A Meditation
weakness never goes out of the body, we only learn how to use it.
*
death is built into us, it’s better that way:
we already have enough debt to repay.
*
what we really want is touch,
although, for mankind, it will never be enough
Cafe Life
coffee cups cream-purling with a swirl.
walls, milkweed-green and gray-naked against the dull-burnt blaze. a capped chap in a raincoat; tongue-rough.
some spots on the jotted carte; flecks on a wet-cedar bough.
from some youthful corner:
a radiation of red and a blueprint-blue tint shooting from screens.
against the pane-brace:
bristlecone sprigs scrapping themselves square: The world still asking us to watch.
there is faith here, too: a thing of gunk-strung feathers. this cafe life is life itself:
the host of hope and loss.
–C. Dylan Bassett is a poet and artist from Las Vegas, NV.
