A bhikkhuni
of around 40 years,
but the solemnity
of 1,000
inside refuge of
the Triple Gem—
happened unseen
across the daring
genus
of Phiddipus Audax.
The spider's
pincers were
blue like
the 4 Noble Truths:
(cause, end, path, cessation)
hidden beneath her heel.
He was squashed
making tiny screams of
trivial sati,
screams loud enough to
stop the nun
(noble)
in the 8-fold Path,
that of the 4th noble truth.
The spider's last whispers to her
were:
Right understanding.
Right thinking.
Right speech.
Right attitude.
Henny's fascination with tabloid jounalism was only surpassed by the comfort she felt from a dry twist of Western Family cotton swabs; her unadmittable obsession with her neighbor's sex life, and the smell of unwashed feet (particularly nestled and somewhat sticky in the clutches of a black sandal).
Everyone's business
made comforting twists & turns
leaving only blind truth.
A mongoloid Bodhi
with a vicious migraine
asked his pupils if they had
never noticed
his accentuated brow muscles,
his crooked teeth,
the irrefutably horrible
case of
existential strabismus—
(his left eye facing west,
his right eye staring
at 20 men he once knew,
begging and purging their
karmic stains below
in isolated narakas
of their own design).
One stepped forward
and asked to answer
the question with another,
to which the Bodhi
complied.
"Have you ever heard the
story of a man with 20 names
meeting the man with one?"
The young boy asked.
"No." replied the Bodhi.
The student summed up
the parable with one sentence.
"The man with 20 names, changed his face
400 times during the conversation,
whereas the man with one, never altered his expression."
Frankie Metro believes in the countless applications of basic principles involving equilateral triangles and Serpinski Gaskets. He is Leading Chemist at The Meth Lab and his book, The Anarchist's Blac Book of Poetry, is now available via Crisis Chronicles Press.
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