The rules for a contented life // The rules for a discontented life

The rules for a contented life

7 everything is connected to everything
6 everyone can do the right things
5 every action and attitude matters
4 the world is full of beauty
3 you know how to trust in others, deep relationships
2 you are the steward of your property
1 you are grateful for what you have
0 life is neither good nor bad
1 what you have is not enough
2 what you do have is under threat and must be protected
3 people can’t be trusted , shallow relationships
4 the world is a horrible place
5 whatever you do is justified
6 bad things must be done
7 nothing matters anyways

The rules for a discontented life

no sounds to express truth

no sounds to express truth
though i did try to find it words
i did try to force it into speech

what a great disservice
to such beautiful truth
but the truth keeps coming back

like the moon over a lake
not having anything to say
a mirror to you and me

the moving water below
so deep so dark so full
containing all we know

silhouettes of the trees
over the ghost of a beach
night creatures hunted or free

stars reflected in the eyes
clear night air with something
will stay but also not remain

you will not tame it
but it will never go away
it will drive you to heartbreak

or to hope

***

eat better

eat better

i drip fried chicken for blood
and have candybar thoughts

by 10:03

i've saved then lost then saved
myself thought me

suddenly in sharp focus
the thinker

like a robber
caught in light

a bit of a monster

but wanting to be nice


*

there's a place where the factories end

there's a place where the factories end
then if you worried they start again
after a pause just a small gap

down in that place you'd meet
a few untouched trees and a portion sized
natural world where buildings
like factories and their
dominating stamp are unreal

these small reminders of
formerly
overwhelming natural wonder
will someday eat us all

because nature never stops dreaming
but we do


*

i see the mississippi river

i see the mississippi river
i think muffins i think garbage
houses that look like old shoes

steam comes up from the factories
pressing wood pressing grain sacrificing junk
sacrificing the pitted terrain of oranges
seen in a microscope

always hope though
alas pure unadulterated energy
from suns from kisses from buggy whips
from racing one thing into another

falling away from the center
when you eventually assume ruin
eventually you assume ending
but find the dreamy center


*

poet checks their poetry

poet checks their poetry
like someone else checks pulse
might even be breathing like
exerted as if exercising
how the brain races heart beats
fixating over a turn of phrase
or an older poet regards
it all like white painted walls




*

i am going

i am going

there is nowhere to go


there is no place to stay



speaking

no words to speak


no thoughts to form





all in

intention



all in the doing

i am going/ there is nowhere to go

i am going

there is nowhere to go

i am staying

there is no place to stay

speaking

no words to speak

thinking 

no thoughts to form

all in 

intention

all in the doing

of intent

888

making art out of inferior aims

In a sense, we're homesick for our true nature. 
— Mingyur Rinpoche 


making art out of inferior aims
if i am reduced to this let it be so

surrounded by beauty always
you see it as such essence

on a day that will never be repeated
a song one can make up from this



**

baba georges invents everything

baba georges invents everything
at the kitchen table where steam
from the mugs become clouds and
the egg are mountains and syrup seas
to the craggy shores of potato cakes
and every tiny thing became a story
of pirates and journeys though pogroms
to this sunlit patch of house where
everyone is everything tattoos blurring

baba georges tilts head like a sunflower
admiring other sunflowers if no other flower
then my face like baba georges face
just so much younger that baba reaches out for
smooths my hair and pats my cheek
and tells the dark funny stories studded with light
of bells of carts of endless fields of wheat
snow barbed wire and deep harbors
to this sunlit patch of house where
everyone is everything tattoos blurring

dissolving chewing fusing
people who had faces like houses
or bodies like villages and towns
some strong some hollowed out
violent burning as rivers flow
the earth holding while the sky
had clouds with all the tracery infinitely high
like lace like angles wryly looking down
and responsible for lucky breaks
baba georges squints and smiles

sighs and sighs and says and says
the arm back under a sweater
smooths my hair and pats my cheek
and tells the dark funny stories studded with light
of bells of carts of endless fields of wheat
and how can you keep seeing everything
the same way over and over again
when everything is a message
of bliss and a challenge at the same time
to choose dark or light

***

can you tell someone politely to shut up

can you tell someone politely to shut up
then you are a philosopher
or this is not possible without humor

looking deep down inside for the humility
to mislead others with genuine feeling
is the goal of ages



**

they are coming for us

they are coming for us

to read us bad poetry

we can't get away from it

it is our own poetry

*

they are coming for us

to put us all in prison

there is no escape

from making bad art

*