let us simply breathe. . .
breathe in the smell
of rotting leaves
fermented piss
and pizza crusts
breath in the smell
of old coke bottles
filled with rancid water
and cigarette butts
floating in puddles of muck

Rat sangha, rat sangha
my fellow rats
my sister, brother rats
you are awake, indeed
with your beady black eyes
and twitchy noses
with your tiny rat consciousness
you are Buddha, no less
in your precious rat bodies
you have attained
the rat view of the world
and thus,
you understand the true nature
of human beings
you see our kind
from the pavement up
you smell our aggression
in your keen wisdom
you hide in the darkness
from our murderous arrogance

“Ratzinger, Ratzinger”
is what you call us
we, the self-anointed Popes
of self-righteousness
we who barely conceal
our viciousness
in scarlet robes
of religious piety

“Ratzinger, Ratzinger”
is what you call us
we the self-ordained monks
of the unmoving lips
and the vacant stare
you listen for our
ringing bells
and murmuring tongues
for the moment comes
when we open the window
and dump an offering
of holy water
on your breeding grounds below

“Ratzinger, Ratzinger”
is what you call us
we the self-conjuring
gods of this world
who greedily set out
to destroy
nearly everything
in the name of
self-preservation
and leave nothing behind
for all other beings
but the discarded scraps
of our voracious appetites

on these you survive
in your alley way shrine
so let me sit
and let me dine
with you
rat sister, rat brother
let me sit with you
and see what you see
and smell what you smell
while I play on my harmonica
a hymn for you.