Dorji Dhatsenpa

Contributor

midnight pulse of Amygdala
against a warm August spacious backyard.
ghost of kids and we live next to a monastery
carving out our siren song
fragile minds, we yearned for the earth
(the brain is the echo
of the memories that burglarise you)
for a house of plenty
for minds full of Heaven and illness

i saw them in a Zyprexa epileptic episode 
in the midnight pulse of Amygdala
against the papier mache walls
of my Parc-Ex apartment
in a nonchalant parade mocking hurt
“bang, bang, kiss, kiss”
invincible. beacons. is this house really haunted?

i go to bed at 8pm
have an anxious cry 
and dogwhistle the angels of Love.