& his beard grows whiter to home blood & tears
my father & I in the nettle glow of the TV
breaking news biting lips off the surface under us
cracking with the loss of passage
if I go take a piss it clouds & rains back
even as I'm pissing / what juvenile
violation of space time
if he goes I stay hearing the lighter
spark spark fire in the kitchen / what strange
beast is man cooking
& unaware / his fingers decide on onion rings
sunk in chickpea batter // on the news
the metal hook gropes the surface
of the lake for the drowned car
& all I need to know is look up
the sound of homeless water sparkling anger
look up from
[ subhuti, this scripture shall be known
as the diamond cutter sutra ]
all the talk of [ the other shore]
but I keep walking the words
of chuang chou saying [ be empty, that is all ]
the sound of homeless water
if the rain outside the window wrapped around
a maybe / if the onion pakora golden browning
& all the car companies wish free publicity
body of the car creature lifted up
shelled in human secret but present is the absence
of gene-painted thumbs rubbing ebb & flow
but the eightfold path
is not the mean
of all the checking
salt on upturned palms
& it's nobody we know / as of yet
he's back with pakora on the surface between us
as of yet in
the nested glow of the TV
if it's nobody we know
to be blamed into threads
web & vein a body of water
if the stepping forward of everything else
makes us step backwards
to be tied in passage saying
let's resemble / growing riper to home
~ Ajay
19/5/2020
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
