Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Finding Bob the Rabbit

It is a very ordinary day in my life. The orange cat on the red couch looks at me like I have a ticking bomb on the top of my head. I boil water, and the cat keeps looking over my head, like something is there. Finally, I put my hands up over my head to where the cat is looking so fixedly. To my surprise, I feel something up there. My hands come down, and I have a small baby rabbit. I decide to name it 'Bob". Later, after I get over my high fever, which turned out be 103, Bob the Rabbit is gone.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Closer and Then Fading Away

Noon. $9,000.00 in blocks of twenties, suddenly handed to him from the teller, the bank full of people. Getting over the fear and the shock, still completely out of his mind -- the weight of all that money oppressing him. Nothing making sense now. He kept his head down, saying "Excuse me!" and "Pardon me! and "Excuse me!" urgently all the way to the glass doors, sunlight dazzling and the outside world beyond shining like Hell. No one stood in his way.

He walked for a long time. When he stopped, he didn't recognize what part of town he was in. He heard a siren coming closer, and then fading away.


Back in the bushes, on his knees, he had the money on the ground in front of his clasped hands, and he actually tried to pray -- to God. He tried to pray sincerely to God, and he said a prayer that he would make this money last forever and ever amen. $9,000.00 would last him forever, because he needed it and he could now make it last. He would. And then he got up, he felt a little better, and scored.


Two days later the money was gone.

Monday, January 28, 2013

He Told This Story a Few Times

He told this story a few times, about answering the question: "What is spirituality?":

"Shoot an arrow into a field, and find it. Paint a bulls-eye around the arrow. That is spirituality."


Canyon Club

Poem as a Note to Self & Padmakara

30000 guru yoga
earnestly i seek thee

slipping in the clutch
appreciating little things


to PK
jan 13

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Chung Tzu Points

"I feel like sometimes saying, 'I can't go on.'" I say to Chung Tzu.

Chung Tzu looks up at me and smiles a knowing smile, like it was a joke.

Bill Shakespeare comes in, papers and books sliding out of his arms and going all over the couch and the floor. He leaves everything askew and he sits on the couch, his feet on the coffee table.

"Need an idea quick on a new drama I gotta write."

"Ask him!" says Chung Tzu, pointing.


Jan 2013

New York Poem

small bits of ice
off the twigs of a tree

in the snow
by your feet

marked the meter
and style of 37th street

proves to me
the city is alive

and writes
in every weather

for beautiful women
like you


Monday, January 14, 2013

Gently Snowing all the Things in My Life

I was never angry at the rain, or when it snowed. But I was wrapped up with other things that happened in my life, that I had no control over. I want to turn over a 'new leaf', but you can't do it by wanting it, or saying you'll do this. So I think about it raining hard, and then turning to gently, gently snowing everything -- all the things in my life. In each memory of feeling, a snowflake falls without any noise, in glittery fine perfect flakes, forming a perfect carpet of impeccable white.

Sunday, January 13, 2013


I washed laundry, I sorted laundry, I tried to make sense of it. Laundry kept showing up all over the place. Under things, piled up. I kept washing it, drying it, I ruined it. I was ruining your life, like I was ruining the laundry. I didn't mean to ruin the laundry, or your life. Hospitals. Photoshoots. Fear. Almost making it to detox. There is a problem. Now no problem. I feel radioactive.

I aim to get better at everything, which is the whole problem -- unrealistic goals. I fold laundry, just my own laundry, and understand why people loathe me. They hate me because of my grasping, and how I can't stop.


For Rachel

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Procrastination on Evil

"An evil man, who thinks his actions are good. Isn't that the very definition of 'Evil'?" I ask.

"Fancypats talk for 'Procrastination'." says Padmakara.


January 2013

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Mt. Saddleback Has No Snow

"I know what I'll write!" I say.

"Yeah?" says Chung Tzu. "Mt. Saddleback has no snow."


Winter 2013

Saturday, January 05, 2013

Just Out of Sight

George was having a good morning sipping coffee and going through email, when a few things happened related to other people. Then he felt he was Dead, in a Prison of the Self. A bit much, so he reined this in and settled with being a bit 'blue', probably 'under the weather'.


Looking at his reflection in the window, George wonders, "What would the King of France do?" The waitress gets his order wrong, on purpose, at the Kozy Mug Cafe, next to the historical post office on Lake Street.

Still looking at his reflection -- with a separate motion of the object perceived. He realizes with a shock he is not looking at his reflection, but an actual person, whose outwardly expressed fruitlessness matches his own.

Gosh gee whiz, what a crack up.


At the pet store, George looks at fish in a tank. They know nothing of being observed, and don't care or know to care. To the viewer, with the glass reflections, there could be double the amount of fish in the tank, even triple. There's no way of knowing how many fish you could see, or fundamentally what one's own reality is, if you couldn't change your point of reference.

"God help me be able to see things the way they are, and not how I want them to be!" says George devoutly, loudly, accidentally.

The shop girl out of sight just around the corner hears him, she smiles inwardly and pretends not to have heard anything special.

This Day a Pirate of Paper Crane

This day a Pirate, or a Paper Crane, he catches himself thinking. Spaghetti for breakfast with his six year old son, who methodically forces other race cars off the track in a video game.

"I'm being a bad guy when I play the bad car." his son says cheerfully. "It's okay. Sorry, Dad."


Janruary Irvine

Thursday, January 03, 2013

Where Did You Go Road by Road?

I got here some time ago, but I'm still getting here, if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I am talking about, you'll be coming along to where I am soon, and you'll know all about it. In any case, all is well. Take this day for instance, what more could you want from it? All kidding aside -- all random wants that we think we take seriously, and we say they are not random and flightless. No? Ok -- If you want something or someone, go get it. Go get them. But later if they are not here, or it is not here, why not? And where did you go road by road? Do you think you'd be extra happy with extra? Why not be happy right now?

World Peace and Good Will Towards All People

Laguna Beach canyon. God, in passing, goes by in a red convertible with a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat. God gives me a wave of his hand.


Buddha is in the tree. Or I think he is in the tree. No -- not that tree, the other one.


Escondido, Rock Springs Road. I pick up St. Francis of Assisi, walking down a country road. The way is dangerous, too many cars. He does not seem to mind, looking over to the fields and the happy birds as he plods along singing a Psalm.


Buddha in another tree. No -- not that tree. The other one. See?


God is five rows over during Sunday 10 AM mass in Napa. He doesn't take communion.

I sidle over. "Why didn't you take communion?"

"Ha! You didn't, either."

"Who was the blonde?"

God looks at me over his reading glasses. "I've seen you all over the place. Laguna canyon, Napa, Irvine, Escondido. You certainly get around."

I decide to pray for world peace and good will towards all people.

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

The Spirit Makes Giddy the Imagination

I've become a walking mortuary with a bright bird floating above, a bird so bright in the upper window, you can't look at it very steadily. I have a new white Range Rover that is white like the bird, I can see it in the parking-lot, over my shoulder. God save me, I become more aware of my breathing. This is not even meditation, but clothed in the form of introduction. The Spirit moves in with my breath and out with my breath.


Hear the roar of the freeway with me, can you hear it? It is here. See the cold sunlight on the blinds, can you see it? It is here. I write a note in black ink on my wrist, to not forget, now forgotten. Do you remember? The world is big enough to remember and to forget. Awareness is bigger than words like 'mortuary', 'death', or 'God'. The white Range Rover is a vehicle, and so is the concept of the world. The Spirit sharpens the pencil, breaks the heart, flies the bird, makes giddy the imagination.


Jan 2