Dharma Wheel by Jesse Mitchell
I am a diamond tipped hurricane, tornado filled with shards of glass…and streaks forever of violet, blue and red, neon gas light bending on behind.
I am 100% a part of you, 100% of you; the thick dimpled plastic covering, vinyl bags, a bit of skin, a pinch of leather. Just carrying around loose change. Filled to bursting under these lights. I know it is hot.
I am too fast for dying and too close for breaking…I will not break and I need no shattering, I am too many pieces and far too fast for building. I will not stay together.
I am all this wind, this pregnant breeze. I carry everything: fire, water, disease. I am all these bungalows burning ashes to the ground. Lap lap before the tongues swallow them whole. I am leaking like the sun, irradiated to the ground.
I am dharma dharma dharma dharma and I have outgrown this wisdom and I have outgrown all this wisdom, waving my damaged hands. I am nothing nothing nothing nothing but words. Nothing but these words and dharma dharma dharma dharma wheel.