1
Drawn into the vortex
Of your life

By a formulaic
'How are you'

Hoarding memories
Like misers
As if identity were
A Thing
A Table, measured
And crafted

2
Or Self-real
When the very
Galaxies with
Dizzying speed

Belie the very
Notion of
Being

Amorphous time
Boxed,
Bagged fog pieced in
Handy seasons

Anniversaries
Of Nothing,
Events
Commemorations,

A drubbing of history
And nullification
Of failure.

3
No lights dim
City life

No Spring
Penetrates the
Screen

Plato sits in his
Cave
Weeping darkly,
Counting
Bodhidharmas
Eyelash
Over and over
Again