Zen and the Art

Here's a brief poem for today. Use it well. It might keep the flurries from your head.

Bones of Art

any young mammal
picks up a dark instrument
marks and marks and marks

build high, sink deep, starry priests
call down sharp tongued gods
with immense skins

in the wild landscape city
paint-stained tribes
stagger under brains, eye-crazy

first awareness not apples
but skin template razor deep
cicatrix and shaped teeth

every tracker tracks
the pink glitter mask reader
brain quivering coffee queen of planets