life is most of the time intolerable, i said to a friend, while we both laughed and smiled

evening comes
and with it
comes hunger.
it’s easy to think
this hunger
is hunger.
it makes sense
to think
this hunger
is hunger.
hunger;
that the
physical body
needs.

it is rare
where i live
that hunger
is truly a need
for calories.
in other places
people live on
a few hundred calories
a day.
here, where
i live,
people consume
thousands of calories
a day and
still think that
the hunger
they feel
is hunger.

the need
that always comes
back, it
can be distracted,
briefly numbed,
through the intake
of calorie.
this is how we
keep ourselves
hungry.
this is how we
keep ourselves
full.

outside,
the snow is still
miles away.
the clouds are
low and
they are
mutedly glowing
in the artificial light of
fish processing plants.
there is a
lot of money
to be made in
killing
and we are always
hungry
for more money.
the clouds are
low and
they are
mutedly glowing.
the fish processing plants
shriek
with moronic white light.
hungry people
anesthetize themselves
with commerce,
too blinded by
the shrieking white light
to see the snow,
the snow,
still miles and
many minutes
away.

a stray flake falls,
here and there,
blown many miles
on the cold wind.
the clouds still
do not swallow
the surrounding mountain peaks.
if you stop
and look,
if you focus,
you will see
the snow white mountain tops,
riding above the blackness
of evergreen tree,
floating below the
muted glow
of snow-filled cloud.

inside
the moaning gloom
of stupid white artificial light
the snow white mountains
take time to come
into focus.
they take time and
do not care if
you have no time
to give them.
if you are
too hungry
to see.

it is said
an empty mind
is
a peaceful mind;
i have always been
stretched elastic and
ruptured seams.

the clouds are
laden with snow and
they are still miles
and minutes
away.
right now
if you focus
for just a moment,
the snow white mountaintops
float.

the clouds
have not yet
consumed them.
the clouds
have not yet
consumed them.
the clouds
have not yet
consumed them.

i am
not a peaceful
man.

the snow capped bowl of a volcanic mountain rises blue and white in the evening dusk. the ocean in front, the sky above, a muted, moaning, blue.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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