row row row the boat
I listened at the bankless river
that no longer flows
for the definition of nothing
is it?
everything always at once?
the force that keeps the stars apart?
the moment between inhale exhale?
the time between the lub the dub?
does it reside/not reside?
in the where
before being born?
in the where
after the after
is it as subtle as a head butt?
the daily churn of ordinary comforts?
the cooing of cellphones?
the blinking of alarms?
the brushy touch of a disinterred future?
row row row the boat
gently down the stream
throw the buddha overboard
this is simply a dream
someone’s one hand will always clap
for the dogs with and without buddha nature
who bark in sanskrit while unquantifiable angels
dance (probably the lambada) on heads of pins
merrily
merrily
merrily
merrily
in solitary transit
afloat in the siftings of chance
ballasted by the unanswerable
row row row
row row row
in the nothing there is nowhere to go
by Les Bernstein, author of the newly released book Amid the Din. It is available on Amazon.
