You Bet!

I bring a banana peel to the meeting and I deliberately throw it on the ground in front of someone. They see it, and they step on it as hard as they can. They end up slipping. I save them in the nick of time from a nasty spill.

"Geeze!" they say.

"I have a bag of them in the car." I lie. "I'm using them to ward off those who would do me harm."

"I feel sorry, whoever they are! Banana peels are very slippery!"

"You bet! Don't try this at home, kids!"

We laugh like idiots, and several people look over and wonder what just happened.

Poem - i mourn

i mourn ' my selfish monologue
not measuring ' to my experiences

o dreadful ' selfish wrapped up woe
when virgin day ' is above me unspoiled

----

3.25.2013

Poem - 3 years not a drop/ of the stuff

3 years not a drop
of the stuff

so many come
and say they want to
need to
have to
must
stop

you could go into shock
or turn away and say
this is a
problem
i should
not see

through my worry
about me i get close
to you
through
seeing you
i can start
to see

--

March 23 2013

Marginali

Ex favilla novam vitam

Summa votorum attigi

From the ashes new life

I have reached the summit of my desires

---

3.12.13

Irvine

Wanting to Know

We have a minor earthquake today, not a big one -- just enough to shake the monitors in my office. I joke, what would it be like to be in an earthquake, while it was snowing? Has it ever happened?

I find a video of a blizzard in Japan, while an earthquake tosses fishing boats around in the water like toys. The water is ominous and dark, while debris from the hills flow into the harbor like blood. Why do I want to know the things I want to know? 

Writing - Accepted

He can't get his password to be accepted, so he hugs his computer and says, "You're the best computer in the whole world. Really! The fastest, nicest, greatest computer ever." He tries to get into his mail again, and can't. "I love you so much." he says to his computer. Still, he can't get into his email. "Computers are one of the best things in all the whole wide world!" he exclaims, and is still locked out.

He pauses, and decides to sing the computer a long melodious song. He tries his password again, and it is accepted.

Poem - (for today)

the flashlight is love
and it works as long as we keep loving

so if you are in the dark
and feel like cursing or asking why

love a bit & see what happens

Only More Questions/ I Still Dream of Books

I miss wondering about things for years, and never being sure if I'd ever have the answer to what I was wondering about. Those were the days of 'pre-internet' -- where to find out about something you had to go to a library, and dig through microfilm, or old back issues of technical journals, periodicals, or newspapers. There was an element of chance, availability, of luck --you'd have to scour the shelves, or probably you'd heard of a book that enlarged in great detail what you wanted to know, but it was out of print, but someone saw it on a bookshelf in an apartment in San Francisco in 1966. Or if they had the book, you could only borrow it for an hour.

Before the WWW, I had dreams about books! Mysterious books. Elusive ones. A book seen out of the corner of the eye, a book that was supposed to be hidden. Books that were out of print, or lost, or ones that I saw once and never again. Now I can find out about anything, right away. But despite all the information, there are only more questions. I still dream of books.

Crows in the Trees

I move through the night in dreams. In there, everything is strange, yet perfect, if you accept what is going on. In the morning, I awake to a world that I wanted to fix, but it is broken, it cannot be fixed. I have so many things I wanted to be different, it wouldn't be that hard to have them be different, or people to be just a bit different? How could it hurt someone to change just a fraction, from their locked-in anger and hurt?

But I see. Out here, everything is strange, yet perfect, if I accept what is going on. I think in the dark. I turn on an electric candle.

**

Bang! Daytime. I see crows in the trees.


-----

Irvine
Mid February
2013

(No Title)

the moon shone on the ocean
like a cheap thrill

that is what i can do and ruin
all is see




.

Poem - OK

He is sick again.
The cat crosses his path, boom! Trip.

He sleeps.
He dreams all of Italy is plaid.

He dreams.
Christopher Columbus invented the ball-point pen.

He wakes up.
What is the difference of history here, or there?

What things appear double, triple, multiple, but are just funny reflections of an ideal that does not exist, beyond just being an ideal?

But then loving, truly, because it is a good thing to do.

Because stars don't. They just exist.

Because money does not. It just is here.

Because the sea does not.

Because there is no outward reward.

Doing the right thing, and never having it tracked or recorded.

Doing the kind thing, even if it heads you into oblivion

Right motivation, wherever it takes you.

OK

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

I go to the dentist and I get my front teeth fixed. They are astonishingly beautiful. It is like having Christmas, Hanukkah, New Years, my birthday, and the 4th of July attached to my gums. I smile at the receptionists on the way out, they cheer. I smile at the birds, the sky, the buildings, the road, the cars, people on bicycles, the clock, telephone poles, streetlamps, parks, trees, and semi-trucks, all the way home. Some folks stop and wave at me, I am sure of it! Hurrah! Back at the apartment, I smile at the cat, he does not seem to notice. I give him extra food, he rejoices as much as I rejoice. Hurrah! Hurrah! Fixed teeth!

Waking Up

My son is sleeping, I am silent as if in a silent movie. I make exaggerated movements to be quiet, and I wake him up. "Go to sleep!" I order. He rubs his eyes, then agrees, and goes back to sleep. The covers are heaped up, looking like a crumpled animal. I think about the dream I had, how the Earth was invaded, and extraterrestrial were milking humanity for grease. I wonder if my son will ever have the strange dreams I have.

All is Well

I wake up at 5.20 AM, in the dark -- I turn on an electric candle. The light flickers over Buddha's face, looking at me serenely, with a secret smile. Meditatively, I sit on the cushion for a few minutes, then I get up with inspiration and calm. All is well. Then I bang my foot on a toy truck and fall to the carpet, grasping my foot in agony. I take a shower in a seething disgusted mood.

*

After the shower I have calm again. I go outside on the balcony, the sky has a hint of the rose dawn, increasing. I feel, and then the sleeping dog on the balcony above me, unseen, begins to retch. He retches and retches, and then vomits a long glistening stalactite of snot and bubbles, that hangs gossamer-like in the clear dawn air. All is well.

----

Quail Meadow
02.03.12

Hole in One

I had a dream that God and Buddha were playing golf at Pelican Hill. They played with one bag, and I was the caddy.

Every time Buddha hit the ball, it would go where Buddha wanted it to go. Whenever God would hit the ball, he'd slice or get in a rough lie. God was very upset.

This kept on going for some time. God kept getting more and more upset.

"Why are you so much better than God at golf?" I asked Buddha.

Buddha looked at me, and smiled. "There is  no difference."

"So why is God not playing as well as you?"

"It is your impure vision."

Just then, God made a hole-in-one.

To Get There

He read and wrote challenging poetry as a young man, when he got out of college he didn't change the world with a bohemian free-as-air lifestyle -- he became a stock broker sometimes making 250,000 a month, putting most of it up his nose, with 4 kids and a beautiful wife. Then he burned all his bridges systematically ricocheting down through rehab, each one less nice than the last, divorced from the wife and her new boyfriends, and he missed his kids that he didn't know. Later he was a night clerk in a 7-11 in Laguna Beach, wearing an ugly second-hand Hawaiian shirt. He was looking at his reflection in the glass doors while it was still pitch black outside at about 4 AM, when a drunk came in and he confused the drunk for his reflection, but he was sober.

He knew he was sober then. He felt glad. He had nothing and he was so glad. He also knew he had become one of the epic inexcusable fuckups he always despised, and more. He was a piece of shit; by his hand he had ruined everything. He had no more game. He put his hands on the top of the glass counter and looked out.

Some words came into his head like they did all those years ago, but these were different words, not to impress or change him or anybody anymore. He wrote them down on a paper bag. The writing was terrible.

He could never write. But he could laugh about it. He had arrived in the present moment after taking about 35 years to get there.

"What you laughin about? " asked the drunk bum.

"Thinking." he said.

The sun came up over top-of-the-world.

Dreaming About a Flood in the Thai Jungle in 1975

I has a dream last night, I remember it because it was immediately before the alarm went off. In my dream I was in Thailand, back in about 1975, deep in the bush. It was early in the morning and it had just rained, the river had flooded its banks. There was not a dry place to stand on for miles and miles under swaying trees and deathless jungle. Nearby was some kind of trading post on stilts, blaring out American disco. When I heard that, I turned and saw Andy Gibb wading through the tea colored water with a pretty guide. He was wearing a loose grey scarf and khaki adventure shorts, and he was frankly amazed & amused at the same time, hearing his music being played in the middle of the Thai jungle right after the river had flooded.


----

Irvine
5.30 AM PST
02.01.13

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.

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.

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
2012

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

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.

-------

Irvine
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

------

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.

Laundry

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

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.



-----

Irvine
January 2013

Mt. Saddleback Has No Snow

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

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

-----

Irvine
Winter 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
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.

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.


-----

Irvine
Jan 2

During the Christmas Party

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Christmas Eve Evening

On Christmas Eve evening it is raining. I walk into the apartment, and I close the door. As if someone was watching me, the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"You need to come over an screw me." says Claire on the phone.

"Screw?" I reply, and I look out my window. Claire is standing in the window in her underwear, across the street at the Bella Arms Apartments, with its delicate scroll-work on pastel faded facade. As I look at her curves I notice a lot of other people are looking at her, in the street.

"Come over an fuck me right now." says Claire on the phone, gyrating with special emphasis in the lighted window, for everyone to see.

I hang up, and I go to the bathroom. 

In the middle of my sojourn, I hear a knocking a the door. It is three pissed off policemen.

"Would you please go see the lady across the way?"

"Why?"

"Or we'll arrest her."

It is lightly raining. I go across the way, past the transmitting news-truck and the crowd of people, into the Bella Arms. When I slam the door to Claire's apartment, she wraps her legs around me.

"I'm glad you didn't want them to arrest me." says Claire, nibbling on my earlobe.

The crowd outside roars with approval, and this reminds me everyone on the street can see us. Claire  feels nice. What the hell can you do? I close the blinds.

ING Looking fo IST

ING got up, and felt good. ING decided to go looking for IST. It was such a perfect morning, with things flecked with snow, nice and brisk. The sun was pulling him along. When ING found out at the old apartment that IST had a new boyfriend, and they had gone out of town for the holidays, ING understood. At a cafe ING wrote IST a little text message, wishing her the best and for a Happy New Year, that he was thinking of her. She wrote back right away, and it said "Thanks, what a nice surprise to see your text, and you, too."

Poem - Poem Addressed to December About How I Should Take a Nap

dedicated to Richard Brautigan


december

i should
take a


nap.



-----

Irvine
December
2012

A Short Story About Being Blue and Thinking About Richard Brautigan and How His Mailman Probably Hated Him

When I feel blue, I think about Richard Brautigan, living in Bolinas. He lived there many years, and I'm sure it seemed a long time, with the drinking he was doing. The mailman probably hated him.


----

Irvine
December
2012

A Short Story About the Sky and Hearing a Helicopter

for Richard Brautigan

I hear a helicopter, then it is gone. The sky looks like marble.


-----

Irvine
December
2012

The Hardware Store is One Year Away

The alien spoke: "We all have short lives -- I will live 50,000 years. Over in the blink of an eye. So don't cry, you live on a nice little blue planet, and everything is within easy reach. Imagine if you lived like we do, with things like the hardware store being 1 year away, and a trip to the bathroom takes a month and a half."

Poem - Lorem Ipsum Dolor

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum."

                                                      --- Anonymous


And thus I obsess
I fret
and seek out puzzles that cannot
be known

as if it were
Understandable
or to be Understood
is to Understand

We must
be willing to admit
We'll know nothing
if we have to

in a broken funny
World

Fighting the American Civil War and the Siege of Stalingrad

I realize today that for about 18 consecutive years, I have been fighting the American Civil War in my head, and also participating in the Siege of Stalingrad. This explains my reading material: all about the American Civil War, and Stalingrad. I swore that I was not up to anything, but it was suspicious -- in the recent past I'd purposely read some wildly off-topic books about medieval Japanese origami or environmentally friendly pesticide-free gardening to prove to myself I was not fighting the American Civil War and the Siege of Stalingrad. But luck is in my corner -- I found a 12 step program called Vicariously Historical Anonymous, which is a blend of AA and Al-Anon, and I'll go to my first meeting when I'm done with the Second Battle of Bull Run and the retaking of the Red October Tractor Works.

Press-Conference with the Secretary of the Inferior

The Secretary of the Inferior holds a press-conference. He mumbles under the hot lights, bobbles a stack of notes, drops them on the floor, picks them up out of order. Very uncomfortable in his cheap suit, the reporters harass him. This is the Secretary's second meeting with the press, the first one was an unmitigated disaster, quite off topic -- it rapidly became unprofessional and very personal. This time, gallantly, the Secretary of the Inferior attempts to play along. But he becomes mired in his own words, his head begins to drop, he looks down, he mumbles, ashamed.

Poem - (no title)

desparate for a smoke
i have a roaring headache
i watch john carter of mars
i hate it but watch it

quitting smoking i can't think
like evel knievel the pain
zooms up the ramp
it won't clear the jump

down down down
i smile and laugh feathers
i am bubbles i am sea foam
i surrender

Humans Are Very Bony

We run a medical-spa, we turn our customers into hot-dogs. Average healthy person makes 200 of them --  highest quality -- tastes like veal. We sell them in China. Only 200, per victim, you ask? Yeah -- humans are very bony.

Poem - the growing clout/ of dreams

the growing clout
of dreams

more sleepers
become rich

and have no
recall on how


-----

to the San Jose Mercury News
11.09.12

Poem -- the farther away you get the slower it seems

you're going away
the farther away you get the slower it seems

new things come between us
the farther away you get the slower it seems

memories fade
keen funny details blunt
every day becomes more normal
more staid

the farther away you get the slower it seems

Poem - the stopping place

the stopping place
on the side of the road
just hidden by a bend

far enough away from town

over there an old mattress
that looks like a huge
shrugged off skin

bottles and toilet paper
spent cartridges bullet holes
and condoms

--------

Inyo
1993

Poem - Dream Bike

in the middle of the night
you wake me up with a call
i was in a dream that i built a long bicycle
and everyone in the dream world
who saw it was frightening
they liked it because the bike
was metallic electric green

we talked and i fell back asleep
but the transportation was lost to me
and i know so are you

Knowing the End of the World

Today I found out the world is ending, and exactly when, and I don't care to tell anyone. I don't care to tell because I'd have to convince them, and besides who cares? If you knew the world was ending, what the hell could you do for all of us, if you really knew the world was going to end?

Poem - Acceptance

i can't seem to do the right thing
this might be what should be happening

when i try to interfere in things
that are none of my business

so i refrain from doing much of anything
not out of fear but out of acceptance

but i'll be goddamned if you ask me
for advice i'll give it

Poem - of the gigantic night

in the darkest concentrated time
of the gigantic night

one kid let out of prison
is dead before morning

in less than two hours
& he was invincible in his mind

Poem - Where the Prisoners are Released

to the jail at orange county
city of orange

at 1 am a half moon rises
in the west

punctuated by
one star

the sounds of drunken
screaming

from the TGI Friday's
across the street

bottles break girls
laugh

you can't see anything
but hear everything

in the black courtyard where
prisoners are released

*

2 am the moon is
higher

the sheriff lets them out
in groups

some with nowhere
to go

others can't
wait

they have elaborate
plans

----

9.08
The City Drive
Orange, CA

Poem - Poem of the Mexican Soap Opera

i have to get out of my mexican soap opera
i can't be the villain or the unrequited lover anymore
because i never believed in the roles anyways

i have to get out of my mexican soap opera
even when i find i am playing along to the script
my byline your byline everybody's byline is on it

but i am the producer of my mexican soap opera
i am the camera man the prop guy the makeup artist
the pimp and the whore who all need something to do

and if i don't show up for the shooting schedule i find me
if i don't know my lines i tell myself 'ad-lib' it will be ok
and everything works out as it should for such a petty drama

--------

Irvine, August
2012

Getting to Know My Neighbor's Names

I am getting to know my neighbor's names. I have never bothered to do this before, and I am enjoying it very much. They might not realize it, but each person is like a Christmas Present, or a Surprise Gift, I get to talk to every day.

Poem - so be bright and lovely

now do not forget
you are a radiant being
like a cosmic flower

take responsibilty
and do not grow thorny
or dark or odorous

you choose everything
in your own cultivation
so be bright and lovely

Poem - Building the Phantom House of Desire

i spent months and months
of effort and toil

building an elaborate
exquisite

phantom house of desire

when it rained
the rain fell on me

the roof was not real

when the wind blew
i was cold

the walls could hold nothing

and i wondered to myself
why i was miserable

even though i knew all along

the house was not real
and it could not be ever real

fashioned out of the lumber
of dreams and hopes

then the phantom house burned
and when it was torched

i burned inside my own heart

ending up with ashes and cinders
and imaginary ruin

over time the perceived ruins fade

i pray that i shall never attempt
to build another place again

because desire and want are things
in a dream of a dream of a dream

but the architect is optimistic
and is looking for a new site to build

this is why i pray and try not to forget

Poem - Writing Letters

i write letters to people who are far away
who can't leave where they are
who need hope

  i try to follow all my advice as if i were far away
  as if i can't leave where i am
  and i need hope

the sender and the receiver are not unique
how many broken hearts are in the world

and how many people suffer so
without asking for help

when i write my letters i pray the writer
and the receiver will break
this deadlock

  i try to follow all my advice as if i were far away
  as if i can't leave where i am
  and i need hope

Poem - Goodness Gracious! Me Oh My!

If I do not practice
descrimination with my senses,
then I am lost,
like having a single stray
hair on my cheek but seeing
and believing this is a log.

I know that God will love
me still if I outwit
and defeat unrestrianed
thoughts and craving --

even better it is
to see it is not me doing this,
but the impulse of an
aspiration that has no
beginning nor end:

Awake, alive in the spontaneous
unconstructed intuitive sense of it,
beyond the control
of mine and others blithe
conceptions --

Goodness gracious!
Me oh my!

Poem - to see such/ things

this night
the dusky
crescent moon

was below
and to the right

of a triangle
of stars

a wonderful
triangle of
stars!

no i did not
make this up

then my mind
rested with
you

and how grateful
i was to have
met you

even more
even if i will
never see you again

and i smiled
on how lucky
i really am

to see such
things

----

from Laguna Beach to Irvine
up the canyon
at 8.15 PM
August 20, 2012

We Review the News in 2 Seconds

We review the News in 2 seconds. Time is up. No time to review the News. See you next week!

Poem - uprooted/ all is well

uprooted
all is well
helping others

no longer begging
one mirage
for another dream

not living
in a dream
empire

not saying
one is poor
not having

-----

Everywhere
8.20.12

Only the Lonely

He reads: Ya gotta act like a winner, if you want to be a winner! That is what this helpful book tells him. An damn it, he thinks, I am winner. Winner, I am! I'm cooler than sliced bread! Stronger than John Henry! Bigger than King Kong! Taller than the Eiffel Tower! Faster than greased lightening! Meaner than that kid who beat me up in Church! More inscrutable (and mysterious), than Winston Churchill! Grander than the Grand Canyon! More mousy than a mouse!! Mouse? More a dragon than a mouse! He drinks a big swig from the whiskey bottle. Shivers. Makes him strong as the awful whole shit goes down.

Poem - beholding this new day

absolute blue of the ocean
together with the intensity of a clear sky
fill up my eyes

bad thoughts flee
old feelings cannot remain in the pleasure
in the pleasure of such beauty

even held to a requirement
or want of earthly pleasure vanishes
beholding this new day


-------

Laguna Beach
August 2012

Poem - they sail on!

they sail on
they go past the horizon
into my imagination
into their imagination
aimed at nothing
both me
and them

Poem - The Stand

i just wanted to stay a visitor
on this earth
and not get tangled up

but now though these events
i see it is better
to be gummed up with others

because if you don't split
you can stand
for something with someone

turning doubt into faith

Poem - What Must Be Done

i.

a fly in the apartment
does not have freedom

it faces a death by starvation
trapped in an ordered abyss
so like me in my organized mind

i let the fly out

in this small realization and simple kind act
may i too transcend the bewilderment of suchness

ii.

with no malicious intent
i tried keeping you

you left and are free
i will hold onto
this understanding

wonderful things keep coming
and beautiful things going away

i do not know what happens next

i stay here where i belong
now that i know better how to act
and what must be done

Wanting to Fly a Kite

He was minding his business, when he got sent a pic of a bra-shot with some cleavage on his cell-phone. And he knew who sent it to him, and he was conscious of being horrified, fascinated, tickled, and mildly baffled -- in that order. He suddenly, irresistibly, wanted to go fly a kite. With his socks off. He jumped up, dumping a stack of papers on the floor. He could care less, headed for her office, three floors up, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

Poem - Appreciation

found after so long
lost in a heartbeat

in the very coming &
going precious

every moment
was savory

Poem - We Do Not Know How Beautiful All This Is

to say it is hopeless
is to say the tree outside is hopeless
or they bright blue sky is hopeless

to say it is a joke
is to say the bird is a joke
or the cars are all jokes

all we are saying
is our opinion on things
we do not know how beautiful all this is

Poem - when i was alseep

i.

when i was asleep the
bad things were good

when i woke up the
bad things were not real

and everything that
influenced me is a blessing

ii.

from all this spouting
self-serving claptrap

in it find something
salvageable lord

let me give whatever is
left to others

---

for Chenrezig

Poem - The Letter

no reply to the letter
the one that should not have been sent

because the author asked for pity when he wanted love
and failed to have the courage to ask

you who watch and say things end see
harmless paper and ink

for the heart that knows it should stop wishing
only the bereaved know this sorrow

Poem - Try Something New

i dream we make out
i dream we eat human bone soup
i don't want to eat the soup
but they say 'it is all we have, plus you've never had it before'
'try something new!"

Poem - Another Poem to Latif

Through the trees
I saw a full moon last night

I thought of you

Like the full moon
In the branches of my mind

---


7.01.12
Irvine

Poem - buddha is the sun/ the day/ the moon/ the night

in my mind
i see
a happy buddha
alone
tramping
through night

skipping
in the shadows

dancing in
the moonlight

he is
not feeling alone
though
unaccompanied

though moving
directionless
he has
purpose

darkness
and this
sleep time
become as aware
as we are
at noon

buddha is the sun
the day
the moon
the night

Poem - no bird/ no color/ no sky

my thoughts
my person
who thinks

like a black crow
flying against
a grey predawn sky

no bird
no color
no sky

------

5.30 AM
Interstate 5, South, at Camp Pendleton
6.29.12

Poem - this beautiful day

this beautiful day
with no targets in mind
to praise or blame or explain
this happiness on

------

Raffiniert ist der Herrgott, aber boshaft ist er nicht.

  Einstein

 
irvine
6.29.12

Poem - Listening to Danny Whistle

before he goes to summer daycamp
on a perfect summer morning
i hear my son in the other room whistling
a kind of tune one makes when
you have your whole life ahead of you
and you don't mind whatever happens
because you know in your bones
it will be good

i like to hear
that kind of whistling

Poem - but never say it is like a razors edge

if i do not feel compassion for the people who hurt me
then when i give compassion to those i love
the entire blessing is half-realized

this is the inescapable path i must negotiate
but never say it is like a razors edge

Going to the Next Town

In Oak Park, Wallace had not been on a "hot date" for over 15 years. In anticipation of one, for even longer. What did he do?

He looked out the window for hours, and then watered the grass with half his face shaved. He saw he forgot the other side of his face when he was dusting a mirror, now uncrooked and lookable. Wallace almost started a letter to his brother, Hank, who liked hearing from Wallace about the weather. ...just the weather, nothing psychological. No need getting personal with your own brother, his brother said, living in Montana, gay. Wallace felt like playing with the squirrels, but they wouldn't let him get close. They only wanted nuts. Wallace ran to the store and got a bag of nuts.

When he got home, he saw he was almost out of time, and he forgot the bag of nuts on the porch, so the squirrels got fed, anyways. Shower done, suit on, down the block to the Bijou with time to spare. But as he got closer and closer, he began to have second thoughts, then third thoughts.

Wallace turned around and started home.

You're a goddamn coward, he thought to himself, as he slowly powerlessly walked the wrong way, watching the scenery go backwards as it shouldn't. He was almost home, walking stiffly and slowly, afraid people were staring at him, when a small yellow car pulled up. Lois was in it, and she rolled down the window, pretended it was the most usual thing in the world, her date being in the wrong place, even headed home.

"Hey Wallace!" Lois said. She smiled and crinkled her eyes.

"Hey Lois." said Wallace.

"I think the movie started. But we can go the next town over, to the Cineplex. They'll have it there, too."

"OK." said Wallace, and got in.

Poem - i see i must go inside/ and find the treasure there

in your absence
i see me

i see how i hate my own company
i see how i reject solitude

now for the first time
in my life i do not turn away from this

nor do i embrace it
instead i wait until it becomes clear

i understand that you
have nothing to do with this ache

this ache that drove me
into the arms of women

it existed before i knew
any women

i see that i must go inside
and find the treasure there

a gift i had all along
yet never had the courage to uncover

solitude gives me the time
to decode the identity of the thinker

and see there is no separateness
i am not alone in solitude

because i discover a presence
that is the source of all happiness

free of cause and condtions
free of demands and ultimatums

free of you
free of me

still here
just more
loving to all

and funny
to find this
in the end

without
trying

Poem - i have no/ regret

i.

i see i see
we are twins

we are versions of the
same 

all of the faults i see
are mine too

i cannot be angry with you
because i do love myself

you are a mirror
i see myself in

i do not like
some things i see

see how selfish
these testaments are

   you are a mirror
   i see myself in

   i do not like
   some things i see

ii.

i decided to love you
even if you won't be here

i decided to love you
even if i will never see you again

i decided to love you
like i want to love myself

i will always be
and you will be here in my heart

i have no
regret

Chung Tzu Does Not Look Up

"I see that wanting the Love of Another will not fix my Problems, because I have no Problems to fix. And the only Problem I would have, would be wanting a Love outside of me, to fix anything inside me." I say.

"That's good." says Chung Tzu, barely looking up. "You make very little sense, at all."

"Is that good?"

"Yes. Hopefully your brain will collapse now, and become like a deep stinking pile of shit in the sunshine, mixed with straw and dirt."

"I think it is happening right now. But shit doesn't talk, does it?"

Chung Tzu smiles, and does not look up.


-------

Quail Meadow
Irvine
6.19.12

Poem - can anyone

i  laugh
at how
horrible it is

can anyone
ORDER
someone
to love them?

idiocy
insanity
futility

i resort to
fuck the trees
fuck the sky
fuck off birds
fuck you

i laugh again
i back up

i unfuck
the sky
the birds
the trees
you

but i'm
leaving marks

i'm creating
useless patterns

i play lover
i become hater
and switch back
& forth

like a clown
like a joke

Poem - Really? You do?

i imagine all one love
then i image nothing
i can't help myself

but i always end up
in the big love camp --
who wants to believe
in nothing?

really? you do?

to me it is like
wanting to eat
cold old leftovers
that taste shitty cold

when you could
warm them up

Poem - i figure on painting my whole life brightly/ with this mind

i figure on painting my whole life brightly
with this mind

no dark corners no dullness in texture
you can do it too

whenever one needs a lift
give yourself some good thoughts

i see that there's no limit to the good
i can think up

Chung Tzu and TIE

I write this poem:

-   -  -
-  X  - 
-   -  -

"Nice poem!" yells Chung Tzu, through the window.

0  -  -
-  X  -
-   -  -

"You think so?" I reply, out the window. I can't see where he is.

0  X  -
-   X  -
-   -  -

"Yeah!" he yells.

0  X  -
-   X  -
-   0  -

"Are you joking?" I yell. I still can't see him.

0  X  -
-   X  -
X   0  -

"Yeah!" he yells.

0  X  0
-   X  -
X   0  -

"Are you telling me you're kidding?" I yell. I still can't see him. 

0  X   0
-   X  X
X   0  -

"No!" he yells.

0   X  0
0   X  X
X   0  -

"Then what are you saying?" I yell, looking for him and almost falling out the window.


0   X  0
0   X  X
X   0  X

"TIE!!!" yells Chung Tzu, and hits me in the eye with an old apple.

Poem - But This Too Shall Pass

i mourn for you
i have long conversations as if you were here
i promise myself i will not hold on

but i find myself 
in long conversations with you
promising to not hold on

i look away
i look at a bird wheeling high in the sky
i hear a truck  i burn

i am grieving me
my selfishness by vanity and i smile

i am making excuses
and lying about inventing them

i am untrue
full of self

but this too   shall pass

Poem - of this/ we will/ find/ truth

i see her
i hear her

trying hurting
looking

ask 'what to do?'
or 'how?'

in the answer
or non-answer

of this
we will

find
truth


------

For Rachel

Poem - About as Long as it Takes

she tried to hurt me
by leaving 'she's not there' on my voicemail
but i ended up
with the who's 'pinball wizard' lodged firmly
in my skull

because sometimes it feels like she stayed around
about as long as it takes
to lose a pinball game

it hurts about as long as it takes i guess


--------

6.11.12
Irvine

Poem - Wishes

i had three wishes

i wished for you to return
you were here 24 hours and left again
this time for good

i have two wishes

i want to wish the geni to hell
but he'd stay only for 24 hours
and come right back

so make the geni stay
and i play 'only the lonely'
all night long

Poem - 3:30 PM

I was joking in the past 3:30 PM was a magic time
and for that one minute per day
if you believed it
miracles would come true
all you had to do was wish a wish
on the dot of 3:30 PM

Saddleback Mountain is Very Big and Beautiful

I'm hurting in my heart, so I go visit Chung Tzu.

Lao Tzu is there, too.

"It is over." I say.

Lao Tzu smiles. I don't feel so bad.

"Well, that is what it seems to you. That's good!" says Chung Tzu, "When you feel something is over, come in, leave the door like it is, and sit down."

I sit down and look out the window. I can see Saddleback Mountain, shimmering in the heat. I don't know if the door is open or closed.

Saddleback Mountain is very big and beautiful.

------

Irvine
5.30.2012

I'll Remember a Little Bit

When we were together, I had a dream about you every night. In these dreams we talked, sitting under an arbor by a mountain, or with pyramids in the distance. Sometimes the Universe gave me suggestions on how to live the next day with you. When you left, it was so sudden -- the dreams continued, but now they are trailing off. Today I find it hard to remember what I was dreaming when you were here -- these experiences were as intricate as being with you. A part of me has gone. Several realities destroyed. I'll remember a little bit:  What the dream arbor by the mountain looked like, and how tall the pyramids were, and far away.

Poem - bad game

bad game
thinking

every phone call i get
not you

every text message i get
not you

while you
are in

every song

every tv show

every poem

Poem - A Dream Come & Gone

thinking does not fix broken thinking
an ache does not heal a broken heart

what is is what is
i take a wisp of your leftover hair

i let it go
and the wind takes it

you float gently away
a dream come & gone

---

for rachel
5.23.12

J Pants Sourpuss

"Says now: 'Snoring can increase cancer risk five-fold!'" I put the paper down.

"If thinking was a disease that killed immediately, you'd be dead." says J Pants.

*

"Lookie here: 'Americans can't wait for a perfect Afghanistan.'" I remark, during a break from the WWW.

"If you were Afghanistan, you'd be in jail." says J Pants.

*

"Just out: 'The Facebook IPO has lost all its friends.'" I mention, after reading a magazine.

"Too bad for them. You never seemed to have any." says J Pants.

*

Later, after J Pants is gone, Chung Tzu drops by.

"J Pants sure has a lot to say about things!' I tell him, as I hand him a cup of tea.

"You bet." says Chung Tzu, blowing on the cup. "He's a real sourpuss!"

Chung Tzu and I Eat Cookies and Drink Milk

I'm saving money, so I buy cheap chocolate chip cookies. Chung Tzu walks in when I open the package.

"These cookies taste like chalk!" I exclaim.

Chung Tzu looks at me.

"Mmmmmm! Delicious chalk cookies!" I exclaim."Wonderful!"

Chung Tzu motions me to give him one. He bites the cookie.

"And don't forget a glass of milk!" I say, 'Wow!'

We drink milk together in the kitchen, with the cookies.

-----

Irvine
5.11.12

Poem - what was the point

what was the point
of eye
of ear
or face

if it did not teach us
to
find
our place

to be in the moment
and satisfied

to laugh at unreal
mind

discover powerlessness
and like it

connected by letting
all go

Superior Shredding

I have two wireless phones in my apartment, both of them are sleeping in the back room. I need one of them, but as I stand, Superior Shredding rolls up in a truck. They knock on my door, I open it, and two guys proceed to shred everything I possess. It takes them no time at all. Superior Shredding wants to make a point on how effective they are in the business of shredding. When they leave, I look for a wireless phone. It has been shredded.

Poem - Everything I Do

everything i do
is like launching little boats
onto the waters of a great ocean
that no one will ever truly know of

the size of it is too big to comprehend
depth unmeasurable
the waves immense
rendering everything recognizable anonymous

but for a short time
look how my little flimsy things
wink on the waves
so delicate before they are snuffed out