out of the ordinary

after masturbating,

the meditating monk’s

mind melted on

a monday

in may.

his imagination

exploded in his lap.

his que sera, sera nature

disappeared like smoke.

his breathing

was enumerated,

and preserved with salt.

the chimes

of utopia started

singing in the wind.

the pierced flesh

of sebastian

was healed.

his rapturous pain erased.

there was no longer

anything specific

to say or do.

he was eyewitness

to the extreme

and nothing

he saw

made it more

than it seemed.

he knows what

god knows,

even before god

can dream it.

his hollow-eyed

portrait has been

erased by a

rush hour rain.

he has found

his enlightenment

at a flick of his wrist.

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