The Zen,
The bloody fingered
Bean cans frozen
On a Brooklyn tip.
The crash pads I never
Really knew,
The dreams we shared
Together as
Lovers of obscurity
I love you,
Oh, I
Love you all the same.
The hooded
Monks who chant
The mantras piercing
The subconscious mind,
The Imitation of Christ
Lies abandoned by
The garden wall- for
What?
The once original
Phrases that have now
Become a bore,
I really want
To say
Them all again.
Mike Mcnamara
Illustration Nick Victor