welcome to the real Buddhist retreat
how wrathful it is
equaled to fire changing
freedom without any thing
a driver cutting me off
stuff being stolen
a home vanishing
a humiliated you..
while me
while us
at lost times
no money on the banks any where
while the flood carries us away from ourselves
away from our things
words as thought’s copied
guarded you
pretended me
mutual show
the base of the triangle
which point?
finally a visitor from space
a virus in the air
how disappointed we all were
it did not rescue us
beliefs, property, uniforms
and flags
suits held tight by a neck tie
corpse and capital
confined
that flower does not know our name for it
the drivers license photo does not look like me
it did
but not now
where is now?
she will not save my identity
the future Buddha
spinning wheel on the screen
who is impatient and alive?
a sexing center eats and makes
where’s my phone?
where are my keys?
this wasn’t what I paid for
what kind of retreat is this?
a thought experiment/poetry written by © Mitchell Pluto September 9, 2021