yoga glands the secret of voodoo, an ordeal
by hungry ghosts presencing any kind of
sit-down Siddhartha James Boswell might
happen to imagine in the patterns of piss
stains on Jean Jacques Rousseau's caftan.
I confess.
I kunst feste.
I feast on cunning lingusts
wistfully blowing the lid off
some kind of festuary
of jelly frisbee..
feat I Patanjali Johnson
showing only blue thumbs
the rest of the fingers
obscured
in a fist-like seashell
Nagarjuna is cloned
his blue thumbs
like dakini
pop their heads up
from obscure burrows
branching incense
alive,
joking
obsessively
natural
Niiice, Lanny!
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