after slipping several times, i’ve learned to step cautiously into the floating morning

today maybe it is
Buddha i disappoint.
i am well-versed in
Jesus’ mild exasperation,
my inability to
properly prostrate,
the joyful noises that
do not come.

i was for so long
so unafraid of
total annihilation.
now, i am afraid
of a cup
of caffeinated coffee.

Buddha encourages me
to keep myself from
that chemical excitement,
though probably i
have that wrong.

terrified, i stare
at my coffee grinder.
in frozen despair
i look at
Hawaiian coffee beans,
a gift
from another’s vacation.

the sky turns to
pink in the east
and what feels like
the south.
i have never been
good with directions.
the sun, just
beyond the limits
of my horizon.

my camera,
its battery dies
just as the sky tears
the pale from its eyes,
reveals itself
ever more erotically,
in an open-throated orange.

a cup of
caffeinated coffee
waits for me,
back in the small
pocket of warmth
of my current inhabitance.
Buddha is in there,
Jesus too.
both of them
change from pale
pink to blood
orange. i have never
been good with directions,
do not know where
they come from,
and certainly have
no idea where i
will go.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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