why the circle? because all is one inspire me o musical goddess
of the polymorphic the multiform voyage of the man o muse morph into nothing
and morphed the wandering piece by piece there are more things Penelope
first mirror first door of the abode Ulysses who are you?
do you still remember?
memory still tells you the abode is intact you won’t be coming back
there are more things in heaven and on earth and everything is a mask
there are more things that call you won’t be coming back that veil
there are more things that cloud the image of you as a child in the mirror
on which the joke of your adult mask grows
on which the yoke of your adult mask grows
the programming of the labyrinth is wandering what am I I don’t know
revealing you won’t be coming back uprooting of the ancient face from the face
I wander alone oppressed by the mind than are dreamt of in our philosophy
I was agitated by abstract frenzies on the hunt for the hidebehind.
in strips and darts fog hurts the trace of the world
and everything is nothing and gives in to the labyrinth beats the blade beats the blade of the fan
the missing time and I can’t breathe are you awake Ulysses? Being at sea is all I can remember
going alone at sea the imago pietatis in the twists and turns of the flat labyrinth
where everything is nothing every direction the same or at the loom Penelope at the peplum
it appears there’s no hope of reaching the port without the earth hearing
the earth with her ancient voice but to Vashisht slick with hashish
with roaches and business or to Shimla Pushkar Manali or Delhi swarms with animals that are men
that swarm animals and men that are animals swerving through splintering shattering
houses sliding through garbage and feces hanging from sheaves of cables suspended
over open sewers where dead bodies float gnawed by flies and mice it pulses
Penelope the flesh it pulses Penelope the head it pulses Penelope the heart, again?
anguish for time passing anguish for time missing
sub kutch miliga he who rules and designs the ways of chance sub kutch
miliga the blessing beggar to Sarahan sub kutch miliga the prophet
prays the prophet meditates his face irradiates serenity sub kutch
miliga gompa and stupa in Tabo where the Chinese dragon flows sub kutch miliga
the monk devoid of eye is buffalo is bagula is the way of the bodhi tree
anicca dukkha anatta everything that exists is impermanent.