A Meditation

weakness never goes out of the body, we only learn how to use it.


death is built into us, it’s better that way:

we already have enough debt to repay.


what we really want is touch,

although, for mankind, it will never be enough


Cafe Life

coffee cups cream-purling with a swirl.


walls, milkweed-green and gray-naked against the dull-burnt blaze. a capped chap in a raincoat; tongue-rough.

some spots on the jotted carte; flecks on a wet-cedar bough.


from some youthful corner:

a radiation of red and a blueprint-blue tint shooting from screens.


against the pane-brace:

bristlecone sprigs scrapping themselves square: The world still asking us to watch.

there is faith here, too: a thing of gunk-strung feathers. this cafe life is life itself:

the host of hope and loss.


C. Dylan Bassett is a poet and artist from Las Vegas, NV.

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