the second Koan

[Kailashana]

foggy cities
port-a-pottys lined up in straight rows
sand dunes like perky breasts in
Papua New Guinea,
abstract paintings that are puzzled
over, taken apart and put back on lonely walls,
cracks in the sidewalk,
like serpents breathing in and breathing out,
complementary colours in opposing thumbs,
a blizzard of musical notes
suspended in mid-air,
narrow streets in even
narrower viewpoints,
nothing is sacred
in the satiable hunger

penciled waves in the art of Zenga
images in windows reflecting
desires across the street
mottled vibrancy in a desert sun,
virgin forests, zigzagging tree-lined mountains
with blue ice.
city lights reflecting in the river
and drowning with grassthatched societies.
driving on asphalt superhighways
faster than the speed of light--

and I have reached the descent,
I have reached the station,
I know the sunrise.
I wear many hats though I am headless
with golden leaves in the circle of life.


~A


(This poem entirely inspired by the Studio 8 banners, yesterday's events and this morning's weather.)