like wittenstein in his shack—, i'm enlightened in janitorial
splendor. i'm meditating atop a toolbox—the closest i'll ever
get to mountaintop satori. the nearest i'll come to the transcendental
pipeline. this praying mantic pose comes naturally. forget
about full lotus, full nelson or foolproof. i can't swing a
monkey wrench without hitting some symbol of fulfillment.
that's why my apologies are written out beforehand. i'm
coughing up vows & other worthless artifacts, quasi-spiritual
slugs with no ring whatsoever. how many cracked ribs are
necessary until we're validated or at least hammered to the
surface? think fast on your feet or you might become a
permanent fixture in fellini land. allow yourself a weakness
or two, or you'll wind up constantly compromising your
ideals. there's a fine line between being generous & being
self-possessed, between transformed & transfixed. be careful
what you wipe your hands on & what you wish for—it's all
the same cosmic grease spot. it's a sure thing obscured by
the balance of nature. take those untranslatable ashes & rub
them in good, then talk to me about burning words or perfect
form. take those tinhorn upanishads & see what they'll fetch
on the open market. see how quickly you get laughed out of
town. take those apocryphal fragments & tax-exempt mutterings
then stereotype me a bestseller. take those offhand gestures &
paint your own glittering future. i'm tired of being understood.
unfasten bones with a deliberate twist
with a swiftness i didn't think possible
shifting from left leg to right
to ease the pain of standing my ground
until glory be healing hand sends hallelujahs
shivering down my spine miraculously realigned
years lost in daze of special effects
emanating from saints be with us
blocks from where i'm tapping out missives
to possibly religious partners in crime
holed up in the only building downtown not crumbling
sandblasted clean on a consistent basis
even large stoned city hall seems to be leaning
toward a resolution that doesn't include us
a megaphone blocks away cries out to come
announcing who they're stringing up today
from ancient exposed plumbing badly duct-taped
insulation that runs through entire building
though i've done nothing to warrant punishment
i stiffen up each time i hear sirens
mark hartenach lives along the ohio river in hardcore appalachia.
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