Drinking With the Rinpoche
Though it’s possible he never uttered it
aloud, you knew that Trungpa liked
the word neat for whisky. You could almost
hear the undiluted vocable thrumming
his eardrum with every silent sip.
Don’t lament the broken samayas
scattered around his slippered feet.
Pity more the empty glass that
teetered from his hand as he nodded off
in a dining room chair halfway through
breakfast, while everyone kept chattering
as if he’d asked for the condiment tray.
Please pass the salt, I am dying.
Rinpoche’s eyes slid open, meeting
mine as I leaned down to pick up his fork.
Near the end, he sighed, you’ll see
our universal bond of affliction
is not disappointment, it’s expectation—
cruel camel-pack of ambition, hoisted
onto the frailest of spines.
It’s useless. Go outside, watch
the grasses hurl their names
into the dusk. They know
it’s useless, too. That’s why
they are so happy. Have a whisky,
you’ll be a new man for a minute
or two. It’ll feel longer, much longer,
the further you run from your wish.
Run, I tell you, and don’t look back.
Eventually, the wish will get tired
and sit down, watching you disappear.
Sequestrum, December 2019.
Honorable Mention, the 46th New Millennium Awards, 2019
Sections
Drinking With the Rinpoche
Though it’s possible he never uttered it
aloud, you knew that Trungpa liked
the word neat for whisky. You could almost
hear the undiluted vocable thrumming
his eardrum with every silent sip.
Don’t lament the broken samayas
scattered around his slippered feet.
Pity more the empty glass that
teetered from his hand as he nodded off
in a dining room chair halfway through
breakfast, while everyone kept chattering
as if he’d asked for the condiment tray.
Please pass the salt, I am dying.
Rinpoche’s eyes slid open, meeting
mine as I leaned down to pick up his fork.
Near the end, he sighed, you’ll see
our universal bond of affliction
is not disappointment, it’s expectation—
cruel camel-pack of ambition, hoisted
onto the frailest of spines.
It’s useless. Go outside, watch
the grasses hurl their names
into the dusk. They know
it’s useless, too. That’s why
they are so happy. Have a whisky,
you’ll be a new man for a minute
or two. It’ll feel longer, much longer,
the further you run from your wish.
Run, I tell you, and don’t look back.
Eventually, the wish will get tired
and sit down, watching you disappear.
Sequestrum, December 2019.
Honorable Mention, the 46th New Millennium Awards, 2019
Sections