Poem - every sunrise shows / the world is new

i rouse
get going

i must see

every sunrise shows
the world is new

i arise
to see it

then praise
the day

i spent
years

forgetting
how the day

was new




*

HB
Jan 2015

Poem - and she can arise from any place

the moon looked like a banana
and the star a fleck of foam

i found a tiger striped shell
as it was getting darker

the side scalloped like where
a miniature venus began life

the sand here is mixed with
action figure arms and other plastic

the goddess of love from the sea

i adore her any season
and she can arise from any place

all of my ideas shattered
if i accept for them to be overcome


*

Sunset Beach
Jan 2015

Gozo Wonders Who is the Divine Educator?

Gozo wonders who is the Divine Educator?

He asks Ellen.

"Clean out all the old food from your fridge." she says.

Gozo does so.

"Is it rotten?" asks Ellen.

"Horribly so. Disgusting!" says Gozo. "How did it get that way?"

"It happens. Thus a message from the Divine Educator."


*

Oak Park, IL

Poem - and it is just that

and it is just that
a glass of chardonnay balanced on
the edge of a cheap white wood table

about to fall
in or out of love before
the hat drops because who cares

nothing happened before
any words said before don't exist
people before are just dreams and not real

before before the word
keeps coming up before before
what a horrible feeling now to erase w wine

*

next it is night
and a streetlight is shining through
a window in a bedroom you don't like

you are far away
from someone you don't remember
but they are on your mind


*

Poem: and i am in the dark/ and i am in the dark

and i am in the dark

children do not
turn off the light
like a grownup

this other me
i face every night
can be quarrelsome

can be vain

can be angry

can be lonely

and has opinions

is happy

is inspired

even courageous

can be quarrelsome
i face every night
this other me

like a grownup

turn off the light

children do not 

and i am in the dark

*

To the Machines: I Find My Complaints Are Going Away

What was shocking: I did not expect to get a real person on the other end of the phone. When a real person answered, my objections were erased. I realized, after hanging up, that I prefer to complain to machines.

I thought about everything I was unhappy with, or had any complaint about. I had told a machine about it. I sought them, their mailboxes, their blind email lists, the message servers twirling out there in vast computing cloud spaces.

So now when I have any complaint, I write it on my shoe and walk on it until it is worn away. Or I take it down on a piece of paper, and burn it. Or I tape it to a dollar bill, and spend it. Or I sing a song, and make it rhyme.

I find my complaints are going away. The ones that remain, are just enough to keep me going. What a remarkable and strange place to be. And why the second surprise? Do we all live our lives assuming to know one's self, often to the point of contempt -- but quite frankly, we live with a stranger?


*

In Any Direction I Wanted To Go

When I fell in love with you, it happened quickly. By the time I was all the way in love, in a way that would hurt me keenly for several years, it was like I had taken a new book off the bookshelf of my head and said this looks like a nice story to read.

*

I heard the story of a woman who had a Zen teacher, and she confided in him how a recent breakup had hurt her heart to the core. He gave her some specific practices to do, like a short mantra to say, and a way to meditate on impermanence, and suffering in others,

He left and came back in a year, and when she saw him, she said she was still hurt over the ending of the relationship. He slapped her in the face, and said "Too long! Let go!"

*


Far from my home and my bed, the freeway was shut down last night, without any detours. I drove in neighborhoods and towns I barely knew, down long avenues without any traffic, seeing rows and rows of bright lights as far as my eyes could see.

Under the black sky, everything looked clean and golden, and the traffic-signals were always green, in any direction I wanted to go.



**

So See Everyone Including Yourself

I see that we are used by what we think of others and of ourselves. So see everyone, including yourself, as being made out of ice-cream and cookies, or flowers.


*

Chung Tzu and the Invisible Man

I'm feeling invisible, today it feels alright to be invisible.

Chung Tzu comes in.

I sit very quietly. Chung Tzu looks around the room, he hums to himself, he picks up this and that, he sits on the couch and he reads part of a book. I am invisible. Like a statue, with no movement.

"Not bad!" says Ching Tzu, and he gets up to leave. "But since you are still thinking, you might as well get back to work!"

**

HB BC
Jan 2015

Chung Tzu Smiles and Claps His Hands

I am sitting on the roof, singing, when Chung Tzu climbs up the ladder.

"Hello there sparrow!" says Chung Tzu.

"Hello there!" I reply.

"Where will you fly today?" asks Chung Tzu.

"I'm going to stay right here and sing!"

"And why is that?"

"Because I can fly all over the place anytime I want!"

Chung Tzu likes that so much, he smiles and claps his hands.


***

HB
Rooftop
1.19.15

Poem - because things are never dark and listless / in the radiance of our minds

spicer wrote words are like furniture
and i agree to invite the ephemera
to have a place or rest here

charming to and fro in my mind
the breath of the wings of reality
just glittering on the surface

or wherever else it calls it
to have a comfy chair
or couch by the window

to get out of the cold or nothing
remind us how wonderful it is
to have the courage to imagine any kind

of ladder or magic carpet or meadow
that will drive boredom away or
even charm indifference into playing

new games and telling the best stories
because things are never dark and listless
in the radiance of our minds

they are barely contained in their
pure excellence and shining


*

Poem - wherever we are

at some point the artist or writer
all you have is your work
and it is not well received
or seen at all

i saw a flat marker one time
in the corner of a burying ground
and i scraped off the mud
and some letters chewed away

JOHN C BAR--TE
APRIL 14 1905 - M -- 1953
WRITER

i imagined all the poems
in shoe-boxes in fleamarts
writers in tiny towns or city
small apartments still giving
it a go

most of their work is bad
but they can't or won't stop
or their work is great
and more is the pity
wherever we are



*

Poem - meeting each other again / in the realm of desire

you were a little man on the path in purple
and i asked you where you were

and you said you were you
because we are all somewhere temporarily

i can't make sense anymore
because i'm looping 100% of the time

or i am not lost at all being very polite
and listening carefully with a mind that is empty like the sky

do you think the sky
remembers or forgets anything

every bird and cloud
and all us beloved on the path below

meeting each other again
and again in the realm of desire

*

for Tsedrup Tharchin

Poem - i have no complaint

my teacher he looked at me
and recognized a reality
of me in me and around me
one i come close to realizing

or i have not come close to realizing
but possibly i could see some day
in the meantime i will walk
along the path like i believe

i know i believe in him
it is the only reason why i do
the results he had i want too
however long it is to attain

i give things up i bow and bow
i bow to you i bow to him
i bow and bow and bow
i have no complaint



*

For Tsedrup Tharchin

Poem - the emptiness is like an open window / or a doorway it leads places

i don't want anything from you anymore
i don't need anything either

life is a hole that i feel in my heart
but it does not need to be filled

the emptiness is like an open window
or a doorway it leads places

if i have a part of me not complete
then i can always go with change

i can get beyond opinion or hope
because these rest on stability

we are not so much doomed to be separated
as to become whole beyond other

**

Poem - we did all these things / right or wrong

we did all these things
right or wrong

with mistakes that can be made
and possible delusion

i'd hope we'd be into
gardening or making shade

for that extra hot day
next summer



*

Poem - towards the viewer / on the bridge that the highway crosses

on the other side of anaheim bay
on the bridge that the highway crosses

all the water is still
dawn not here yet but coming soon

the lights of the drilling platforms
all uniform yellow and bright

the reflections of them
go straight down

towards the viewer
on the bridge that the highway crosses


**

Seal Beach
Jan 2015

Poem - When

when the wind picks up
and i am alone on the way back

my eyes remind me
in what i see of a mustang horse

a running horse in the sky
that can bring my love back to me


**

Poem - A poem written and posted on the Internet

listless stupid
but at this time in my life

no justification
for suck and drawing air

don't bother to listen
just watch what i do


*

Poem - being angry with you / is like being unhappy with a graveyard

being angry with you
is like being unhappy with a graveyard

everything is dead there
but some of the words are interesting



*

Poem - if i keep praying for you

i followed the instructions
i prayed with you in mind
until my head fell off

i prayed for your well-being
i wished you peace of mind and security
i honestly wished you happiness
i said give you safety
and not only for you

but for your parents
and family

new lovers
and jobs you might take

i prayed and prayed and prayed
for months and months
until i forgot to keep doing it

now i remembered
and i started again

because i hated you
all over again

but this time i knew right away
how i live is a horrible self pity
and i'll never get out of it

but if i keep praying for you and others
i just might be redeemable


i'll hate you
and love you
forever

so here is to
forgetting through prayers


*

Poem - A Short Poem

i do not despair
i write more

i make notes
6662 heil ave

greater poets
captured this life

i bang words
together like pans

musical words
of the greats
keats

bang bang bang
klang klang
me

if i do it 10.000
one may be ok

someone might read
it and then cry

if i wrote a poem
and some made it
into your heart

i want to give
to you

something that
works


**

HB
2015 Jan

Poem - A POEM FOR ROBERT or Keats was right

he's dead
and his poetry

is going
going going
gone

   'writ on water'
   it all is

   Keats was right

i lived at his house
for almost two years
or was it there

have i lived
anywhere

i could have
scooped up
page after page

in my arms
at the time

poems were
common as leaves
in the font room

like leaves
unraked in
the yard

and his
file of
correspondences
impressive
and organized

whenever i saw
the organized
sheafs
of what
was in and out

i always felt
hope even
for me
being
accepted

bob i miss you
and how
you could laugh
somehow
at everything

even if it
was
infuriating

and you lived
poetry
and it was you

two slim
volumes i have

the rest online

will be going
going
gone


   'writ on water'
   it all is

   Keats was right




***


For Robert Funge
not well done but
Bob you know how I feel

ON VIEWING A PAINTING OF THE DEATH OF THE VIRGIN MARY BY AN UNKNOWN GERMAN ARTIST FROM SWABIA, 15th CENTURY, OIL ON PANEL, (44.19)

ON VIEWING A PAINTING OF THE DEATH OF THE VIRGIN MARY BY AN UNKNOWN GERMAN ARTIST FROM SWABIA, 15th CENTURY, OIL ON PANEL, (44.19).

the virgin mary
lies in bed and
she appears to
be dying

the room is full of
men -- well it was
a man's world
and the virgin mary
had to die in it

one of the guys
holds a nice jar
or bucket

soon it will
all be over and
everyone
including the
virgin mary
will be relieved

and there
is a bright little
side gallery
hardly anyone
goes into

and you can sit
in nice leather chairs
and be quiet with
the porcelain
wedgeware china
etc

and over there
with a statute
of laocoön
in the garden



---



San Francisco
Legion of Honor
12.31.14