The Buddha and the Banjo
stand at the foot of a hill
and Banjo says; “I’ll race you” -
so Buddha nods; “You will”
With this the banjo frails
some pattern rolls into the air -
racing Buddha’s wind to mountain top
when he is already there.
Hello blue screen friend
Facing me beyond the glass
With eyes like tent peg holes
Hammered but not holding
The molten spent-wax bowls
Capturing final glow of
Night and time deferred
Poised like patient ornaments
That stare into the firmament
And wait for shooting stars
But sleep before they come.
What goes on in Party Room #1?
Up the three-tiered powder coated stairs
Above the standard frippery
Young mums know of attended fun
And tight banister climb to high-window
Ledged behind the plastic green.
Just take your shoe code -
And present it at the door.