http://www.bodhitreemonasteryofart.com/the-flow-of-heaviness
Heaviness
When did my body become hotel furniture?
luggage, baggage, backpacks slightly mildewed?
My life is my neighbor's futon,
uncertain washed,
scrofulous of lint,
balustrades ungainly, heavy, hippo legs.
The air tastes like a cardboard menu from Baja Fresh,
combining spice and chilies with cellulose.
Sun round as gramma's ottoman,
old cockaigne quilts
with preposterous scenes:
calico cats and polyester dogs pant!
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