Room 262

Is this hence life, owning rooms, a “four piece”
Waking up in the gold of ripe morgens
A gentle exit, hot shower, coffee
Getting hold of things with no trauma
Unhook the dream of the spider & snake
With pacified ease, thinking about lunch
The fridge & shelves full of commodities
Yet more than something is amiss, you ting
The world, outside these white cubes, is all code
Will unfold & swirl as you perceive it
A parody of the pure idea
Heckled harmonies abound, & glitches
As above, so below: that was some joke
But love set you going like a fat gold watch
Or at least that’s how you did get grounded
Now you barely remember who owns that
Empty pillow there: a cuckoo, a man,
woman, ghost, tulpa, a host of bhootas,
or nothing. A far sea moves in your ears.

Room 261

Now she’s in a room, that’s for sure
Some sort of kitchen, neat pristine
But something is amiss, she tings
There are four sinks, no, five, shiny
Each different from the others
With different tiles behind too
Books on a shelf: all the same book
A A A A A A A A
So, which one you like best?, he asks.
Who’s this fool now? What, how come, when..?