in every bud scores of leaves

in every bud scores of leaves
every leaf an entire world
all these places unfurling
so millions and millions of worlds
teeming waving taking sun and shade
adding to my own little world

i find myself singing out
laughing wanting to run or play
how can i bide with ideas like
if i should go or not or be restrained
when mother nature abounds
with such wonderful multiplicity

go!
play!


_____

Minnetonka
April 30 2018

i've been thinking about / my life now ... a poem that took 27 years to write

... ..... me at 23:

i've been thinking about
my life now and
wondering if it is
worth living --
not thinking of suicide
but just thinking on
the alternatives one has
besides suicide

what can i do/ or could do
to change the changes

i wish i could think
about my life seriously
like it was some precious
mineral
or think about my life
considering it
like one might contemplate
something holy

i don't mind to say
that great holiness is
not a thing i see as
all important to a good life
holiness has
always framed up external
barriers bridges and
avenues

i can see them but
i know they are
not for me -- i am
not for them
yet we get along alright

i could have overlooked
something dangerous
that will be popping up
out of the smoke
i'm not immune nor fixated
on pain
and at the same time
i don't want to say
that i ate slept and
breathed myself into
a coffin

 ... .... me continuing at 50:

i believe
we should live well
specially
in being happy
and tell others how we did it
and if they want
do what we did
and it is good for them
then that is
the whole point

-----

for latif harris
for robert funge
for lama tharchin
for dudjom rinpoche
for my own father

some of my own notes
written in about 1990
found in a book
about Jack Kerouac
"Jack's Book"
two days after my father died

on sunday morning come soon

on sunday morning come soon
his breathing is slow and light
his eyes are open and he is composed
after two days of toil
after two days of work

the body lessening grip on a soul
or unwinding like a tight coil
a bright spring that ran
as a someone being a man
letting nature go bit
by bit as if out of a cage
out of a box out of an envelope
loose from the flesh

morning noon evening
deep into the last night
speaking sounds
with some inflection
that we could comprehend
meaning 'going out'
'going soon' 'hearing all'
with exhaustion we sleep
he works on works on

then sunday morning come soon
his breathing is slow and light
his nails are gently blue
his eyes open and he is composed
laying in the bed
that was his grandfather's
at home home home

some breeze
fluttering the blinds
and then still free bright


**

For my father
Robert Werth Evans
4.22.18
Napa CA

fully involved

now in age 50 fully involved
seeing a vision like a fire
burning down a physical self
thoughts center around aging again

cycles turning spinning a regime
of meditations as if like an athlete
i must be in prime shape for time's assault
that will never stop until i am stopped

plans are made but seldom go
unplaced into motion plans expire
despite the game of thinking on
thinking thinking

feeling helpless and on edge
yet suddenly sometimes entering
another zone of having all the time
in the world like i always acted like i had

just as quickly now i see i do not
by witness of my parents
passing friends in a world that
came before me and thus owes me nothing

but i will be valiant in poems
and not give up happiness
because it is happiness
because i am happy

not think about things i should not
arrive at any conclusion of

or have any right to


----

for Robert Funge

at four pm

a snowflake
as a bird
or see a flower
as a mountain

all together
in one afternoon
at four pm
me thinking



**

i am asleep/ do you know me

i am asleep
do you know me
recognize me
then you too are asleep

we wear
these bodies
wear the
outerness

12345 main street
anytown anywhere
like bragging
bluster

farther out
there is wind there
is weather and
events

people places
things as nested
gears in a
mechanism

meticulously
arraigned shining
layers oh
so fine

crafted wound by
delirious clock
maker mind
architect

while the
present moment
is empty and
resependant

lumious
naked awreess
emptiness the
light

and this light
mistaken
for a trillion
thngs

silly silly
silly how can you
not be laughing
smiling

at a generous
pantomime
with the best
of intentions

innocent play
of a mind without
an ounce of
malice

lighter
than a sunbeam


____


for Jñana

a new snow / on this white spring

a new snow
on this white spring

i am grateful
for the slush and for the flakes

light or heavy
as it falls interrupts anything dull

shows the universe
is full and more is being created

more blessings
more over everything



**