Ours Is the Age of Pre-Post-Hope
Tonight’s the night to spin a world
that does not reproduce the now,
like the inventor of the Vegetebrella,
who thought the beauty of the simulacrum
of a butter lettuce head
and levered silver pole could live as one.
This Kindle is jealous
of that dulcimer, and even these specks
of tension make me feel
rag-edged as a contorted filbert.
Consider, if you will, the following:
Cities should try to sell umbrellas
only in slim numbers,
forcing strangers in twos
to rub arm hairs together.
Padmasambhava is said to have said
the basis for realizing enlightenment
is the human body. Understand.
These pairs of persons
wouldn’t even have to talk,
looking over each other’s shoulders
at the town’s shins—
broad umbel shadowing
the earth between them,
carving raw closeness
with the lights of their ribs.
From Human Directional (Etruscan Press, 2016). Copyright © 2016 by Diane Raptosh. Used with the permission of the author.