Smell

The Six Senses In Dreamland

Smell

The wind carries the dusts of the dances of seasons.

Dogs know.  Dog nose.

They know death and sickness, food and rot, fear and

     aggression.

Cigarettes and choking perfume. Toxic Air.

A fresh warm breeze and a moment of comfort.

Transient. Rest is a lie but one that is ever there and true.

Incense in the Temple. Inhale the yogas of bhakti and kriya.

Breath and scent conjoined. Cinnamon clove apple subtlety.

Unhook from meanings and conversations.

Enter the nests of beings and observe by nose.

Comfort smells and porta-jons. Flesh dinner nausea.

Stale mind degrading. New makes old. Vitamin pee.

Women hiding smelly reality with smellier facades.

I remember the land of cockroach pee.  Mold. Mint. Mindfulness.

Intoxicating flowers and captivating  butt air.

Gagging. Cedar. Opium. Jasmine. Gardenia. Rose. Sandalwood.

Fresh cut grass. Ozone. Locker Room. Curry. Melanin. Chlorine.

Woodsy kitty.  Inhaling  doggy kiss.  Cuddlescent. Onion Cry.

Amish farms. Rendering plants. Roadkill. Dumpster juice. Sulfur.

Hydrocarbons. Vinegar. Menstrual Blood. Pit odor on kitty head.

Burnt rubber.  Wood smoke. Diesel. Alcohol. Nasal Alchemy.

Doobies. Old people smell.  A bowl of ripe plums. Coconut moon.

Scathing skank of foremost rank.  Ah stinky pinky. Wellspring.

Animals cover their presence and humans cover their awkward moments.

The philosopher declared, “I stink therefore I am.”

Morning. Morning.  Donning masks of perfume.

Composition implies decomposition. Solve Et Coagula.

Subtle and gross woven in moments of stupor and awareness.

Discernment fades to unborn impartial olfactory Wisdom.

By scent alone does a faraway Buddha teach bodhidevas.