I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

because when she was young,

people would ask her

"what superpower,

do you wish for?"

so without any hesitation

she replied "invisibility."

and then,

and then she grew up realising

it came true.

On the third of June, at a minute past two,
where once was a person, a flower now grew.

Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage
in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage.

In a changing room, a lily poses.
At the DMV, rows of roses.

The world was much crueler an hour ago.
I'm glad someone decided to give flowers a go.

She waits. How beautifully she waits.
How impossibly lovely she is
with a thing so passive.

With what weight she waits,
making her bus or boyfriend
(or whatever she waits for)
seem like a first brunch with Christ.

She waits regally, in perfect contrast
to the drooling buffoon describing her.

"Well...,"
              she said, unwell.
"Well... surely...,"
              she continued, unwell, unsure.
"Listen," he said.
              But nothing.
              Just some rain tapping a window out of boredom.

Martha was ugly, like a shaven baboon.
So she wrapped herself up in a curtain cocoon.
One week later, she finally emerged---
She smelled like ****.
What a ******!

Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.