I Dream of a Celestial Realm

I have a dream I'm in a Celestial Realm, everything seems to be made out of crystal. It is a place of palaces, and exquisite gardens: petals seem to be falling from the sky. I'm minding my own business, when a tall beautiful woman, like an angel, bumps into me and I bang my head into her boobs. I get very shy. She laughs because she sees how innocent I can be.


-

Doing Errands in My Dream with the Red Bull of Death in the Passenger Seat

I have a dream that Death and I are driving around in my white Land Rover, in Corona Del Mar. In the dream, Death is personified as a small red bull. He sits in the passenger seat, because he is tired and does not want to drive. Death wants to relax and look out the window as I do my errands.

The first place we go is to drop some books off at the new Library. The Newport Beach Main Library is very nice. Everyone likes going there, even to just have a cup of coffee. The sun is shining and you can see Catalina Island.

Later, when I'm done going about my business, I drop Death off at his house. He is very happy that we got to drive around and see things, and we had a nice time together.

-----

Irvine
4.27.14

I wish I had a ON/ OFF switch

Going into a universe without switches and buttons, I miss those. I have a screen activated phone (yeah we all do now) and the phone is constantly ending up in "silent" mode. I wish I had a ON/ OFF SOUND switch on the body of the phone. Then I could set it ON or OFF and know if the phone was going to be audible when I need it to ring, and silent when I want it to be silent. Because right now about 90% of the time it seems to be in "silent" mode no matter what I do.

>

Notes

The patient says that he believes he has had contact with himself in the future, where in some undetermined year, he has discovered the secret to time travel.

Correction: The patient says that he has been given the secret to time traveling.

The patient says that it is not time traveling, it is leveraged quantum movement. Mental?

The patient says we are only able to do this if a future self decides to share this information in any one of the innumerable universes that exist along side with one another.

Every dog has his day.

Patient is constantly taking notes as to what time things are happening, significant things -- to attempt to leave a trail of documentation for his future self to find.

Patient requests that these sessions be documented as much as possible, with as many copies as possible being distributed out in the widest geological area possible.

Poem - Hearing Children Playing

I listen to imaginative children
at play

they quarrel and yell at each other
easily cry

or just as soon change their minds
and are joyful

*

Adults are exactly the same
but we hold it in


*

for Jñana

Poem - with a smile forward

with a smile forward
everything comes into the day

people are not strange
because everyone is welcome

nothing seems awkward
or regrettable because it is embraced

as soon as it happens
room is made for it -- no issues

in this way tension
can't coil up or be cold & bright

and anger can't be
luxurious with memories

instead the outcomes
keep getting interrupted

and you're on your toes
going with the flow with a smile


**

Poem - The Child Who Lives a Life as a Man in a Dream

I dream of Dudjom Rinpoche
who I never met in life
which is interesting

He tells me many things
and I cannot remember them *

But I remember he told me
of a lively story he wrote
"..written by a child who
lives a life of a man in a dream..."

I bowed to him 3 times
and woke up 5 30 AM

for Jñana
4/5/2014



* I think he said we make errors in our mind like children at play, as innocent and enthusiastically as this, with no malice

Poem - when it rains I imagine amataba

when it rains I imagine amataba
crying with a hundred thousand eyes

when the wind blows I imagine amataba
waving with a hundred thousand arms


+

Poem - death can be the end / of a mighty dream

death can be the end
of a mighty dream
put into a small box

but there from there
who can say for sure
if the dreamer stops

just imagining now
in a different guise
as a drop in a cloud

becomes a snowflake
ghostly vapor
or a single tear



**

misread from the internet

Poem - he plays the guitar with his feet

for Mark


he plays the guitar with his feet
hammering out a song or strumming a ballad

and later the young girls who are drunk
laugh like it is christmas morning
sophistication forgotten and they dance

their boyfriends
get really pissed at the guy
who can play a guitar with his feet

crescent moon in the sky blues slide guitar
more drunk people enthralled
at his strumming that instrument
just with his toes

*

end of evening
bags in the car and amp in the back
he's off to santa monica tomorrow
but he might come back
in a month


--


http://www.markgoffeney.com/index.htm

LB
4.3.14

Yahoo, Facebook -- You're Nasty and Gross (and Racist!)

It is getting more difficult to live a non-disgusting life online. I guess proposing to the living of any kind of "life" online, I'm primed for the punishment I deserve. But I'm tired of the ambushing, antagonistic themes from the advertising leading portals like Yahoo and Facebook approve.

It might even be inevitable, being outright repulsive was the way things would go for the advertisements clogging the navigation sidebars. If you're going to get something less than a penny per click, you're going to need to do something provocative to make $$$ from millions of eyeballs.

But it would be nice at least to have an experience online that is free of multiple ads that promise to increase my penis length, or to have an affair.

Or have a online life that isn't sprinkled with super-disgusting close up pictures of fruit and nuts that will enhance my libido.

Or have ads that display in a pulsing visual way, gaping seniors with no teeth, dancing trailer-park trash, or people looking suicidal with charts in the background. It starts to feel like I'm participating in a sinister psychological evaluation.

I'm also not interested in keeping up with the news, and this is a double (even triple) challenge -- because advertisers hoping to sell shit online like to combine gross images, with the news, and then twist it with some kind of latent sexual innuendo.

Yahoo, Facebook -- you're nasty. You're gross.

(..and Racist! Yeah! I know the president of the United States is Black and so is the first lady. Thanks for the tea-party hit ads / conspiracy garbage too.)


*

Poem - Hokusai

son of a mirror maker
to a shogun

changed his name
at least 30 times whatever
he was working in

one name new
like a fresh kimono

carved prints of
lakes mountains whores
and actors wind waterfalls
and sex and fires in the snow
mt. Fuji and a sea
that would kill
ghosts

the outlines
of cranes in autumn

pieces of paper
blown over
to the moon

then back
to the earth


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hokusai


*

Quail Meadow
Spring 2014

Poem - Unplugged

I stopped watching the news
reading the newspaper
listening to the radio

It was too hard, plus
my culture was out to get me
or drive me crazy with lust
or worry

And I don't condemn my
surroundings and I don't condemn
lust or worry nor my
culture

I don't have to pay attention
if I don't want to


a.

I can actually see my surroundings
and know what time of the day it is now

b.

Now, often when people speak
their words sound like poetry




*

Poem - is it possible

is it possible
to be as silly as the moon
or as unserious as a star



***

Poem - A Man Wanting to Be Alone

at first unaware of me
he drags a stick on the trail
creating a line

he'll wack at the weeds too
and wave at the air
like fencing with ghosts

at the top of the second hill
he stands by the path
waiting for me to pass

he has a half smile
on his face looking into
the distance like it was a joke

and i know if i
were him i'd wish i wasn't here


---

Dusk
Quail Canyon Loop Trail
March 2014

Poem - while he played the guitar

these astonishing stars appeared
like music -- hundreds of them with no strings
attached

while he played the guitar

and people walked by and didn't stop because
you need to be on time

but we had nowhere
to have to get to because it was time for
guitar music played just then

even if it was just a bit cold
who cared?


----

3.27.14
outside of Cherry Moon and Mystic Arts
Laguna Beach

Poem - when you forget / you don't remember

when you forget
you don't remember

but i'll remember you
for a long time

like a knife in the back
or a pet that died


*

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

Poem - we ride our lonely memories / like trusted steeds

we ride our lonely memories
like trusted steeds
until one day we see where they take us

so on this day I hope
you celebrate one year solidly
afoot


----

from the canyon club
3.26.14

Any Buddha Can Be Like a Flame

"Cultivating Buddha, or enlightenment, think about cultivating something like fire. With the right circumstances of action and mind-set, fire, or enlightenment, can appear. Both are manifestations inherent to reality, but enlightenment transcends reality. As with a state of firelessness, it may seem that Buddha is not here, but any Buddha can suddenly appear as readily as a flame."

       --  Charles-Paul Straube

*

Poem - Reprise

i dreamed of the damned
ignorant they are in hell
accepted the suffering

and in these conditions
even hell-beings
dreamt about love


_


i der Verdammten geträumt
ignorant sie in der Hölle sind
akzeptiert das Leiden


und unter diesen Bedingungen
auch hell-Wesen
über die Liebe geträumt

Poem - she cries / her relationship is ending

she cries
her relationship is ending
and why why?

it is everything
in the world to her everything
and more

what can you say
buck up what doesn't kill
makes you strong?

some people
fall down and never
get back up


*

i dreamed that being in hell
you don't think you are in hell

you accept the suffering
like it is normal

and even hell-beings
dream about love

Poem - in the middle of the night / i look up the word 'knowledge'

in the middle of the night
i look up the word 'knowledge'

i translate it
into three or four languages

latin german
spanish

the screen on the phone
is very bright

it hurts my eyes





**

Spring
Quail Meadow
Irvine 2014

300 point Smiley

Here is a 300 point smiley at 72 dpi. Enjoy.

"I don't listen much to what I think...."

"I don't listen much to what I think -- it is like investing in a business that I know is bankrupt, run by a CEO that I know is a liar."

        -- Charles-Paul Straube


____

FREE POETRY THURSDAY - LAGUNA BEACH

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

poem - walk at dusk / on the hill

walk at dusk
on the hill

a moon rises
window lighted

the sky kept going
higher and higher

into stars without end
into memory

*

for Alexandra
3.13.14

Moop Frog and Chung Tzu

I saw a frog and I listened to it.

It said, "MOOP."

"You should be croaking." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

"CROAK." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

I made a note to tell someone what I have seen and heard, if I saw a certain person (or persons).

*

Later I saw Chung Tzu, dragging an old chicken bone down the path on the end of a dirty string.

"I found a frog that goes "MOOP"!" I yelled out when I saw him.

"Indeed!" said Chung Tzu. We sat down on the side of the trail in the shade.

"What's with the chicken bone on the string?"

"Oh, that? Ha ha ha ha." Chung Tzu laughed. "You noticed it? I've been dragging that thing around for at least a year."

"You have not, I would have noticed."

"Really?" laughed Chung Tzu.

*

Walking back, Chung Tzu is dragging the repulsive chicken bone on the string down the trail, enjoying himself. People are tripping over the string and getting mad at us.

"That chicken bone on the string is disgusting and a hazard to others!" I said. Chung Tzu laughs.

We come to the place where the frog is, and we listen.

"MOOP." says the frog.

"MOOP." says Chung Tzu.

"MOOP!" says the frog.

"MOOP!" says Chung Tzu. "OK -- here's a rotten chicken bone on a string."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"The frog insists!"

"Since when did you let frogs tell you what to do?"

"MOOP" says the frog.

"I don't know what it is about him, but that frog is totally persuasive!"

Then before either of us can react, a great white heron swoops down, and spears the frog through the body and flies away. We both wordlessly watch it fly off into the distance.

Chung Tzu winds up the chicken bone on the greasy dirty string.

He gives it to me.

"Sometimes if you go MOOP too much, even if its is right --  you can get carried away."


----

Quail Hill
3.10.14

Poem - that money or fame / can't get

i

two boys from new york
in many ways just two ordinary boys

we became superstars
i was destined to be the 'lesser' of the pair

i knew it was going to happen
we talked about it  - thems are the breaks

we were on our way up
whoever was more famous who cared

two kids who saw the same garbage
the same old leaves the same cabs and snow

two guys who made out
with the same kind of girls from a café
or from a coldwater pad

friends envious
bullies too

lemony sky the limit
just like a lemon

ii

but later i hated you
how far you had gone

you have a look in your eye
like you know god better than i

and i know a little less
of who goes about as god now

then fuck you saw me
and you knew

iii

we stood aside out of the glaring lights
separated from the shoving screaming fans

you looked at me enviously
in my oily sweater

my freedom of
anonymity

than money or fame
can't get

iv

we parted
i walked
home

you can't

home is
gone


-----

Meaning? Then?

More Zen stories:

Once here were two brothers who decided to become monks. The older brother was the smart one and the younger brother wasn't as quick, and he had only one eye. They started a little monastery high in the mountains where they grew up.

They were doing ok, but it wasn't always easy to have enough to eat. Plus there was always a wall to fix, or a roof to patch, and the temple was rickety and the wind blew through the walls in the winter. Then times began to be especially tough -- there was a famine, and a war had started.

One night, after a very long day of taking care of things, a wandering monk dressed in rags knocked on the door of the monastery.

"I'd like to have an interview with the abbot of the monastery," says the shabby monk.

When the older brother heard this, he was depressed because in his mind they were having a tough time feeding the other monks at the monastery, and this monk dressed in rags would just be another worry for him. If a wandering monk could to defeat the abbot of a monastery in debate on Buddhism, they could stay.

"Tell him to wait in the vestibule of the Temple, and I will be down to see him." said the older brother. Then he turned to his less-smart younger brother, missing an eye.

"I'm too tired to debate this wandering monk, so you'll go in my place. Do your best, and because you aren't as smart as me -- tell the monk you want to do the debate in silence. I'll wait in the courtyard."

The younger brother agreed, and he walked down to the Vestibule where the raggedy monk was waiting. The older brother sighed and figured it was a lost cause, his younger brother wasn't a debater and they'd have to find a place for the monk to sleep.

By the time the older monk got to the courtyard, the monk in rags was already there and bowed to him.

"Well, I'll be on my way. Your brother monk has a deep and sublime understanding of the Dharma -- he is really quite amazing!"

"Please tell me what happened!" said the astonished older brother.

"When your brother monk appeared in the Vestibule, he motioned that he wished to do the debate in silence, and so I agreed. I started the debate by holding up one finger -- there is one truth, the holy Dharma."

"And then?"

"Your bother quickly held up two fingers!" laughed the wandering monk. "The second truth -- there is the Dharma AND the Sangha. You can't have the teachings without the community of people that practice it."

"Then what?"

"I of course held out three fingers! There is the Dharma, the Sangha, and the Buddha. We cannot have the first two without the addition of the one who taught -- this is the third truth."

"Then?"

The raggedy monk laughed. "Brother monk instantly held up his fist to me -- in my face -- he is really quite good! There are the three truths --  the teachings, the people who follow the teachings, and the sublime teacher -- and they are undeniably, primordially ONE! At that point the debate was conceded. Brother monk had won. I got up and left, and so I will be on my way now. Thank you for the sublime fortune to have such a wonderful elucidation of the Way."

After the monk had gone out the main temple gate, the older brother re-entered the courtyard. There he ran into his younger brother, who was clearly quite agitated.

"Where is that wandering monk! Where did he go!"

"What do you mean?" asked the older brother.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of him!"

"You won the debate!" said the older brother. "He's gone!"

"What debate? There was never any debate!"

"Please tell me what happened!" said the astonished older brother.

"Fine! What can I say? So I go down to see this monk and when I get to the vestibule I don't like the look of him -- he looks like a criminal or a common thief in those rags, but the rules are the rules -- and we'll have our debate. I bow and he understands the debate will be without words. Then he starts off being totally insulting!"

"How so?" asked the older brother.

"He holds up one finger. The nerve! He's saying I have only one eye. So I immediately hold up two fingers."

"Meaning?"

"I'm saying, see the good circumstances for him to have two eyes. I am not so fortunate. Then the bastard goes and holds up three fingers! Three! And I know what he's getting at: Between you and me, we only have THREE eyes."

"Then?"

"I was ready to punch him -- then he suddenly bowed and ran away!"
---

Written from recollection from a collection of Zen stories from Paul Reps

Noises

One night, I’m having a hard time sleeping. I toss and I turn.

In the middle of the night, I hear a scratching noise. I get up and open the door of my bedroom.

“Was that you?” I ask Chung Tzu, who is in the living room, sitting on the couch.

“Not really.” says Chung Tzu.

I close the door, and I lay back down. When I am just about asleep, I hear another noise.

I open the door, and Chung Tzu is there, sitting on the couch.

“Did you hear that noise?” I ask Chung Tzu.

“Not really.” says Chung Tzu.

So I go lay back down in the dark back room, and I stare at the ceiling and my back hurts and I’m tired and frustrated and confused at all these noises I think I am hearing.

Then, sure enough, right as I forget everything and I fall asleep, I get woken up again – it is maddening!

I storm into the living room, Chung Tzu sits unruffled on the couch.

“Why are you here right now?” I yell at him.

“Thank Goodness! I thought you’d never ask!” laughs Chung Tzu.

----

Quail Meadow
March 2014

Poem - Weeping in the Garden of Eden

what is tragic is that i think there is tragedy in this world
as if you'd be in the garden of eden and be crying your heart out
because there is too much beauty and not enough ugly

**

was ist tragisch ist, dass ich denke, es ist die tragödie in dieser welt
als hättest du in der garten eden sein und weinen sie ihr herz heraus
weil es zu viel schönheit und nicht genug hässlich

Poem - Zippertop Clone Shoe

you strike a pose
the world is dying behind you
wrapped in lights


----

Zippertop Clone Shoe
2012

Poem - Stupid

a stupid non sequitur
or a joke as you go out the door

i have nothing for you
it is over

like i'm back in high school
or junior high

bending backwards into nothing
saying it is okay

is it because i lack
courage or character

yes to even suggest so
means it is so

but also not at all

*

you can look at a closed door
for a long time

look at it for a few years
and be saying the whole time

what a stupid fuck
to be looking at this door

Poem - resolved/ important/ critical

resolved not to think of anyone not in front of oneself move to someplace where the weather is more interesting

important to not write run on sentences and to use punctuation to sleep like a lion and to be as strong as a lamb

critical to have a good heart thus to move mountains higher or lower and to occupy the summit of ones desires joyfully for once


-----

Duly Noted

Quail Meadow
3.06.14

On Top of the Refrigerator

I've been thinking about this one a lot lately. I try to remember things that happened a long time ago, when I was little. I remember one time, my mother had to go do an important errand, something that had to be done right away. I think I was about 4 years old. She had never left me alone, so this was exciting for me, and a little bit frightening. But I was more exhilarated than scared. When she was gone for about 15 minutes, I managed to break a soda bottle in the garage -- it just fell over when I walked by it and broke! It has a mind of it's own! Then I got onto the top of the refrigerator in the garage so she could see me when she drove in, so she'd be so proud of how dependable I was. I waved at her as she pulled in, and she saw me, but she didn't wave back.

-----

On Top of the Refrigerator
San Diego
1973

Birdhouse

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a birdhouse. He gets some wood that he finds in the backyard and beats it with nails and a hammer. Ella sees it.

*

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a -- nevermind. Fuck Ella.


*

Gozo dreams of being a birdhouse.

                              > Gozo träumt davon, ein Vogelhaus.


*

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a birdhouse. He gets some wood that he finds in the backyard and beats it with nails and a hammer. Ella sees it.

*

Gozo lays under several broken looking birdhouses. The grass is cool, and moisture starts to seep though his pants.

Several birds have been interested in his birdhouses. One little finch is living in the smallest, most broken looking one.

*

Gozo goes to the hardware store to buy seed. Ella spies on him at the hardware store by the booms.

----

Oak Park
2014

Poem - to be an illusion/ that can help

in the night
i wake up in acceptance

no sleep
i listen to mozart

serenade in B flat
the horn

i hear it
transform the melody

the room
becomes mysterious

scale of things
big or small all the same

i sense
how we are here

stokes of
sundering lightening

mirages
of fantastic cities

or bubbles
colliding together

*

what a blessing
to be a illusion
that can help


----

Quail Meadow
2014

Poem - i can feel the happiness of others

i feel angry
it settles in

then i see
two little boys
with their father

gosh look
at those kids
they are shouting

they are stamping
in the rain puddles

dad lets them
shout excitedly and splash

they are so happy
and excited to be
jumping in the water
as it is raining

they are alive
and in the moment
and all there is

rain boots and a prefect
afternoon

i've turned my life
into something i don't know

but i can find my way out
of this by seeing things

and being grateful
i can feel the happiness of others

---

Irvine
end of feb 2014

Poem - The Golden Gate Bridge Prayer

make me a channel of thy
golden gate bridge

where there is darkness let me bring
san francisco golden gate bridge

oh master grant that I may never seek
golden gate bridge

and in dying we are born to eternal
san francisco golden gate bridge

or Alcatraz island

---

Poem - The Wish Fufilling Tree

a whole mighty tree that dispenses anything you want was moved in
and then was also simultaneously moved out
with stars twinkling and music being played
and a thousand dancers
with paper lanterns and party favors
snacks drinks lovers raised from the dead
.
.
.
but the time limit was hit
with some strong reverb and feedback
on to other things


----

Winter 2014

Poem - THIS NOW

to love without attachment
and make it possible to have compassion
without being taken up my momentary anger or disappointment

seeing all things as momentary
in transition from one revived (or unperceived thing)
THIS NOW like pops from pop corn or bubbles from a squirt gun

a waterfall of jewels and magic tricks and people and animals
all together in a waterfall of of


----

for Jñana

Poem - Just a Memorable Fancy

it is insane to look for saints in only one house or tree or field
where a saint appeared before and nimbus

angles and mahasiddhas are not herded and when they speak
the virtuous ignore them

so if you want to find the saviors at work this day today
the high ones your grandchildren and their children will pray to

go somewhere that turns your stomach and you feel angry
give your life away to people who seem useless
radically fritter away your promise and your talents
pour your treasure down the toilet for others
slave in the name of  others and have not a grain of thank you
work work work with no imagination of reward
die every day and live again for the next day helping
keep dying by helping others
kill all your ideas by washing dishes mopping slopping
pick yourself to the bone by giving

* * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * *
* * * *
* * *
* *
*

amen
om mani pademe hung
thank you
amen


----

For William Blake

Quail Meadow
Winter 2014

Poem - Buddha or a Bodhisattva in an AA Meeting

i.

he's a buddha
he is upsetting
he stinks

people recoil
disgusted
even angry

if he isn't a buddha
he's a bodhisattva
dirty and laughing

with a backpack and
a odious blanket

he smiles
and sips coffee

out of the rain
in an AA meeting

ii.

then i remember
the stinking gypsies
in venice

on the vaparetto
angels

and the maniac
meditating on
market street

in SF
mahasiddha

i have been
wrong about it all
my vision

my outlook
my seeking comfort

desire for
pleasantness

iii.

are you
resolved with me
to gain enlightenment

and bend a nail
or be hungry

or even smell
funny




----

Canyon Club
Laguna Beach
2.27.14

Poem - jñana / before it rained

jñana
before it rained
the atmosphere was dark and hovering
all these crows started calling calling calling

then it was bright




---

Quail Meadow
2014

Poem - i wished to/ they said

i wished to

forget and then forget
the forgetting

mind it in dreams
only occasionally

never with regret or
with sorrow

they said

your heartbreak
and remembrances

keep you from
being in endless ignorance

without real courage
or any faith


---

to Jñana
just before it started raining

Poem - so / thank you / i have no complaints

\ when it comes
it seizes me

with gentle hatred
i settle into contemplating

i catch myself

i need to pray
or hate some more

so i choose prayer

will it make a difference
 i don't know

i've been told it does

so

 thank you
i have no complaints



---

for Jñana

Quail Meadow
Irvine

 

 

 

in memory or remembering offhand
or when it comes
.
when i settle into contemplating
with gentle hatred
.
this is when i catch myself
with some regret
.
i need to pray or hate some more
so i choose prayer
.
will it make a difference i don't know
i've been told it does
.
so here i go
thank you i have no complaints
.
.
.
---
.
for Jñana
.
Quail Meadow
Irvine

Poem - blinded by waywardness / by stupidity

blinded by waywardness
by stupidity

but the fool in foolishness
is so holy

when truly a view innocently
spontaneous

---

to Jñana

Poetry 2

"People who think Poetry is a toy, or harmless...these people are also immune to irony, they're unconscious of beauty -- as far as I can tell, they believe they will live forever in the body of a porn star."

    -- CP Straube

Poetry

"Many are motivated to write poems broadly about love and flowers, when the vehicle of poetry can carry anything else -- particular are pointed things, like menace, or fear. Poems can thrill your sense of beauty or the ideal, but also introduce to the reader subtle suggestions of disquiet, horror. The best poems do this double-take at the same time, or introduce to the mind opposing concepts, and you don't know it."

      -- CP Straube

Poem - none lost that wasn't gathered

I am the straining
I am the tears
I am
the inconsequential fears

You are the fading
You are the light
You also
walk inside the night

Like a bird that knows it way
or a word when right to say

Free from separate or together
none lost that wasn't gathered



----

2.25.14

Poem - Higher Up

feet mark the snowy field
you can see where you walked

how you held the gun
where you met the sunlight

how the rays slashed
into the blue shadows

halting from the treeline
and making the ridge stand out

there you opt to cross the fenceline
by bowing under the wire

in white winter sunlight
mixed with a gust of cold air

higher up you look back
to the valley of trees and field

and barely remember
how you got up here in the light


---

Bennett Valley

Poem - where a deer hopped

the river plunging cold
no words

water silver see through
fingers of ice

reflections beautiful and deadly
gem like white snow

black branches mark a spot
where a deer hopped

slipped and drowned



----

Poem - silly to think

there is an urgency in the hush
of a moment before
when the clock ticks or strikes
but it does not as expected

and after that time the mind
wonders will time keep going
or have i died and not know it

you might look and wonder
then the tick happens
or the timepiece chimes

silly to think
you were hearing and dead

but are you


----

Poem - by appearances appearing

universe lampooning itself
by appearances appearing

see a bubble or a house
flitting aimlessly or fully in flames

the moon or a hubcap
shining all night or shining in the light

referring to the referring
in that endless endless in turned way

see the softness of the fury
of each miniature perfect snow flake


-----


to Jñana

poem - flame looking for fire

if you look for it
you will never find it

in looking
it is like a flame

looking for a thing
called fire


---


to Jñana
2.23.14

TONIGHT ONLY - POETRY IN PAPER BOATS

Who does not like a little poem in a nifty paper boat? Especially if it is raining, like it was last night. I passed out all of them last night. Not one left. Now I go fold 15 - 20 more paper boats. Then next week, hand them out, with a poem in each for Free Poetry Night, Laguna Beach.

I Wave at Her

It rains in Laguna Beach. People aren't used to the rain. A lady almost runs me over in a crosswalk, while I am crossing with the walk signal. She is turning left, and she did not look.

She stops in the nick of time. At first I want to be angry, but I see she is so pale with horror, I wave at her. I can't be unkind to a lady like that.


----

Cleo n PCH
LB

Writing: Thank You for Asking

He writes every day.

Some days, someone asks him a question, "How is the writing going?"

He thinks about all the crazy writers out there, who scribble on old napkins or in the library with notebooks. Rooms, cold rooms, over-heated rooms, dark hotel rooms. He thinks about drunk writers in flop-houses and dive-bars, or even a nice bar on the Sunset Strip -- but never with much money. Some bars have a fishtank in them, where you can watch metallic blue and silver fish swimming around decorative multi-colored coral. He thinks about all the writers who never get asked this question. Cold big cities. Alleys. One way streets. Blank sidewalks. He thinks about writers who write, and nobody knows or cares if they write. He gets grateful.

"The writing is going good." he says. "Thank you for asking."



=

Writing - Have a Blessed Korean Day

It was a bit hysterical, getting used to the spell-checker on the new phone. But occasionally you can wish people a 'happy day' or also a 'Korean day', and when you say 'love right back' and it comes out 'love rightly back', doubly true.

And better yet, when he asked his phone, "Will I have a good day?" It didn't say aye, or nay -- instead it directed him to a website that suggested how to have a good day, in 19 steps, with pictures.

Oh wise phone. :  - )


----

Poem - Illusion is Yours

I have more flying dreams
-- the dreams are always the same:

I soar walking or skating on air,
amazing how easy it is.

All you have to do is believe,
and that illusion is yours.


----

Quail Meadow
2014

The First Dream I Remember of 2014

On New Years day, I wake up before dawn. It is 2014.

I realize I had a dream of my teacher who died in July of 2013.

In the dream, we are at the Dharma center in the Santa Cruz mountains, the place my teacher founded. It is just after dawn, the light a bit misty. We are in a field, and there is a line of people waiting to get a blessing from my teacher.

I'm three back, from the front of the line, and off to the side a bit so I can see my teacher.

The first people in line is a couple I know very well, they have given the last 20 years of their life in the service of this teacher.

It seems they want to give my teacher an offering, some mark of special respect, but they don't have what they want to give to him. When I realize they are non-plussed, I go to them and say, here is something you can give our teacher.

I take off my mala, and I give it to them -- I tell them this mala was the last thing I possess from our teacher, that he blessed with his own hands.

Our teacher puts the mala on, and the couple begs him for a blessing.

Our teacher says "Of course -- I have a good one! A special one!" and with a huge smile on his face -- the biggest radiant smile I've ever seen, he grabs the bottom of the mala and rips it downwards and breaks the mala so all the beads on the top fly through the air.

The whole mala is falling to the ground, I dive to the feet of my teacher to grab the beads before they get irretrievably lost. I grabs some beads and I see ringsal is there too, so I have some beads and ringsal.

Then I vividly see my teacher kneel to the ground over me, seizing my wrist. I look at him, and he is about 35 years old, young and strong and smiling. His grip is very strong.

"What are you doing?" he asks kindly, intently.

"Its okay! I'm gathering the beads so your blessings won't be lost for all of us. I've broken this mala before, and I don't want to lose any more beads."

My teacher smiles, happy to hear what I said. He looks up, still kneeling over me, and says "See, all of you -- what an excellent practitioner this boy is."

When he says this, I begin to cry, because I would rather have my teacher back and well and alive -- than have this dream where my teacher says such shocking things.

Movie review of Michael Mann's "The Keep"

Review of "The Keep", a 1980s horror movie written and directed by Michael Mann, who also directed Miami Vice: "A great movie to watch, while sorting mismatched socks."


.

The Italian Monster Truck Racing Association -- Rally at the Vatican, 2014

My son last night attended a monster truck rally in Angel's Stadium in Anaheim, CA. A good time was had by all. Interesting, I found out today that the Italian Monster Truck Racing Association  / Italiana Truck Enorme Fraterna Groupo (ITEFG)), has announced a new monster truck racing series that will be scheduled, tentatively at the Vatican, for later 2014. Scheduled in historic St. Peter's Square, to appear will be the terrifying "La Santa Famiglia" formerly known as "Incitatus", now sponsored exclusively by the Holy See -- thus the new name. Also in the competing, "St. Peter" (formerly known as "Hell Crasher"), "St. Paul" (formerly going by the name "Ravenna Revenge") and a small FIAT monster truck renamed "Lamb of God" will all be appearing for this epic first-ever racing challenge. Details to follow, when they are known.

Writing - Oh, Pamela!

He received an email the other day, from someone he didn't know. From "Pamela Monarrez", the subject was, "Frankly speaking...I WANT YOU!"

Oh, Pamela! Vivid images passed before his eyes -- of palm trees and figs with Pamela with dark eyes, living on sun-kissed beaches, earnestly waiting and lonely. Wearing a bikini and a little cowboy hat.

He clicked on it and followed the links, and he single handedly installed spyware on his computer and all his friends. And he knew what he was doing. He was looking for love in all the wrong places, even with Nigerian scammers.

But what if you did find love that way? Stranger things doubtlessly have happened. He kept clicking away.



.

1.11.14

Writing -- Nearly Identical

I envy my neighbors car, and therefore I hate my neighbor even more so.

He has a Aston Martin, Vanquish Volante -- he just bought it yesterday.

I know he watches what I buy, and he timed it to be right after I brought home my new McLaren 12C.

At 5.30 AM today, after some deliberation, I decided to take a dump on the windshield of the Aston Martin.

Outside it was cold, and foggy.

I got gingerly up onto the hood, and dropped my pants -- and while I was not worried about getting caught, my neighbor came out on the driveway.

"Hi." I heard my voice say calmly.

"Ok." was all he said.

He jumped onto the hood of my McLaren and copied me.

We shit at the same time.

We didn't say anything else as we both closed the front doors to our houses -- each with a near-identical view of a misty pre-dawn ocean.


*

After thinking about it -- I know one thing for certain: We all act like we know what is going to happen next, we act like we certainly know what the possibilities are.

But we have no idea what will happen next, whatsoever.

For all of it.


------

Southern California
Winter 2014

Writing - Rain

It rained a lot, all year round, and he drank to the rain. He'd be drunk, and it would be raining -- he'd sleep and hear the rain falling. The rain fell through things, through moonlight, sunlight, through holes in the eves. Dripping eves made him angry. A drainpipe was clogged with leaves, and the rainwater turned black at the foot of the sinking foundations of the two-story building he rented the apartment at. When it rained especially hard, the wall of the abandoned house next to the apartment would turn the color of tanned skin. Then he'd unsteadily turn on a light that should have shed an amber happy glow to offset this. The light was amber, it cheered him a bit, but then he forgot what he felt and the dreaming would start again. Two closets with curtains instead of doors leered at him, full of old papers and old boxes.


----

Oak Park
Lombard Street
2009

Writing - The Model from Brazil

Then there was the winter evening in the gallery in Laguna Beach, when the drunken Brazilian supermodel came in to look at the art.

"Are you gay?" she asked him, standing very close, looking at him.

"No, I am not." he replied.

"Oh. My friend is gay. He drives me everywhere." she said, swaying slightly, as if under water.

"Your friend seems to be a very good friend to you, to help you get around."

"Yes." she said. "Would you like to kiss me?"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Would you like to kiss me?" the model said.

"Of course I would." he replied, and he held her and kissed gently on her cheek, next to her ear for a long time, swaying to a phantom tide.

She left with a few of his books and he never saw her again.



-----

Winter 2013
Laguna Beach, CA

Writing - Ruins

Ruins. Even before I decide if I am right, or wrong, I look inside. I have a junk shop in my mind, a recycling yard, derelict museum. All of the contents are second-hand and used, none of it is original. Everything is cobbled together. Am I angry over my collectables? Disturbed over my ephemera? Am I isolating over tattered refinements? Alone in the ruins.

Writing - Ozymandias Coming or Going to Poor Phil's

At a certain point of his life, devoid of real purpose or thought, he walked at night in Oak Park.

Ah, Oak Park -- home of Hemingway, and Frank Lloyd Wright! There was the time of the year when lights glittered on the houses and fences. With the gracious homes lit and bunted with holly, silver bells, jingles, reindeer, gold balls, festive and whimsy trinkets and whatnot, some people would sit framed by their living room windows, or panoramic dining room windows -- un-shuttered, un-curtained. They imagined they were displaying gala parties and stimulating dinners -- or he imagined they imagined they were imagining gala parties and stimulating dinners.

He stared at their widening smiles, the joviality, the familial bliss. The "I have prospered, because I am humble in the eyes of the Lord, see he has blessed me." Or, "I am Ozymandias, look on my works and despair". He'd heard both statements, or thought he did in what he was seeing.

But he was mostly drunk, carrying a torn paper bag, and walking in the dark like a ghost. Coming, or going to Poor Phil's, the only pub in town.



------

Oak Park IL
December 2010

Writing -- Quiz: The State of Archie McPhee

QUIZ:

Barbara: I'm worried I have not started my Christmas shopping yet. Where should I go in Seattle?

Christo: You don't have to do anything. You live in the state of Archie McPhee. Just go by there and talk to them and they'll give you a trunk load of stuff for free. It is in the agreement, for your area.


TRUE OR FALSE?






A:

True

Writing - Would You Remember

He never had an imaginary friend, but sometimes he would talk to the ceiling at night, in his sleep. He'd also point to where they "got in, through the ceiling". This was upsetting for other people, and they would wake him up and ask him what this was all about. But if you were asleep, and you said you knew things -- like where buried treasure was, or the secret for the elixir of eternal life, and someone woke you up and asked you were it was, would you remember?

In his case, he did remember. He was dreaming of marionettes wielded by unseen persons.

----

Quail Stove Hot
Irbles, CA

Writing - The Meaning of Irvine

What is the meaning of 'Irvine'? It comes from Latin, meaning "Ice-Pick". Alternately, it has been translated as "Shiv", the moniker of an ad-hoc stabbing implement fabricated when incarcerated. Some academics have presumed to infer 'Irvine' comes from the Ancient Norse, 'Irarväe', which means "to pillage by starlight". Or, more literally, "to murder greatly by starlight".

Not to be didactic, but 'Irarväe' really could be translated as "great murdering starlight" or "he who is motivated by starlight to kill". In any case, quote me as a source in your thesis.


-------

Quail Motors
Irvine, CA

Writing - The Creepiest Thing

The creepiest thing that was ever said to him, was nothing at all.


------

Hot Stove Meadows
Irvine

Writing - You Have to Be Alert

"You have to be alert, Linda!" he says striding down the sidewalk alertly. He's a big guy. Linda might be his teenage daughter, trailing behind him...she looks cold. She'll probably be trailing behind him her whole life, and Linda needs to get used to it. I listened to him, and farted.


----

Laguna Beach
Night

Writing - Pirate Retirement Home

The dream of pirates -- a Pirate Retirement Home. Sunny. Plenty of rum. Peace and quiet. Not in the Caribbean. Anywhere, not to remember those deceptively blue tranquil waters. All for the tepid silence and cold, say, of the outskirts of Cleveland.


------

HMS Hot Stove
Quail Meadow

Writing - I Dream of Bamboo

I dream of bamboo, grove after grove of it -- it is a renewable resource, you knew that, right? But in my dreams, bamboo is made out of pure gold.


-------

Bamboo Groves Quail Meadow
Dec 2014

Writing - Fight with the 'New Team'

We brought the "New Team" in for a global solution -- they were very go-to -- meeting with our customers all over the world. Things were looking up, and then someone left the coffee pot on -- the main office burned down. The "New Team" had our only copy of the customer database, and they absconded to Hungaria, or Argentina. Sorry, Hungary. They'll be back! They have to come back to either San Francisco, or Seattle, for Christmas. Then -- fight!


-----

Quail Meadow

Writing - Writing About Guatemala

I have had some visitors from Guatemala, and I know very little about this country. But I will write a few nice things about the country of Guatemala: I imagine the wool from Guatemala is of superior quality, and that the weather in Guatemala is temperate. I'm sure people look out for each other in Guatemala. Probably much more than around here. The more that I speculate about the positive things about Guatemala -- a place I know nothing about -- the more I think I want to go live there. People reading this, who exist in Guatemala, you have no idea how lucky you are.


----

Quail Hot Stove Meadow
Irvine

Writing - Shit bag w/ Options

The ____________ was going great, it was almost done in record time, when he questioned why it could ever be done right with the concept of it being done in "record time". False, untrue, fuckup -- Zen corpse, shit bag. So he stopped writing and turned the heater on, because he was tired of being thrifty and not running the heater. Shit bag.

a) Poetry book
b) Travelogue
c) Memoir
d) Bodice Ripper


-------

Hot Stove
Irvine

Writing - Sometimes All We Want is Two Hellos

The phone rings two times, I answer it.

"Hello!" Silence, so I say, "Hello?"

The person hangs up.

Sometimes all we want is two hellos.


-----

Quail Meadow

Writing - Everyone Knows Thier Birthday

Alex: So what day is your birthday?
Chris: (Absent mindedly) I don't know.
Alex: Yes -- you know!
Chris: Oh yeah, July 11. Silly me. Everyone knows their birthday.


---

Quail Meadow
Dec 2013

dream if bashō 30

dream if bashō
says shhhhhh!

but there is nothing

to hear and points

and you see

nothing to see

this flickering sunbeam

 

 

 

 

.

dream if bashō 29

dream if bashō
bows to the soldier
with great respect
to the prostitute
to the highwaymen
to the innkeeper
to cherry blossoms
even to you




.

dream if bashō 28

dream if bashō
at ends fire low
hole in sandal
hat and bag
even raincoat
so when night
is cold he knows it




.

dream if bashō 27

dream if bashō
disappears for
this moment
in a grove
of bamboo
when you find
a shy deer




.

Every world class museum is now safe enough to play baseball in!

My idea to Major League Baseball is almost done. I've been editing it, I have a few slides to add to the PowerPoint presentation. I'd like to start a new MLB franchise that could be very lucrative and interesting, drawing in a new demographic -- a more educated and affluent one. Major League Baseball in Museums. Baseball teams play the Louvre, for instance. The Louvre is huge! The museums could even have their own teams. Imagine, "The Louvre Smashers" -- or "The Hermitage Annihilators", or even, "Smithsonian Institution Shamblers". This could take off. Don't worry about the darn art! It's been getting hit and kicked for years. Most of the stuff is made out of stone and metal. And behind bullet proof glass.

We've entered a new era -- where every world class museum is now safe enough to play baseball in!

The NSA

The NSA burned down Bob's shed. The NSA slapped a kid and took his lunch money, and laughed. The NSA defiled graves, and insulted the groundskeepers at the non denominational cemetery. The NSA crank called Mrs. Ferlahey, who can't see that good, and she has a bad hip. The NSA made Bobby cry. The NSA hit Joanne. The NSA ran through a red light at noon on Cedar Street. The NSA bit Cory, and stole a Christmas tree from the Elks. The NSA got up late and was interested in robbing banks. The NSA threw away recyclable cans, and shot a BB gun in the air.


-----

Written down in a Secret Undisclosed Location
Far from the Prying Eyes of the Internet

dream if bashō 26

dream if bashō
feeling carefully
in mist with
a bendy stick
you see wet
cold ground
trees like trees



--

dream if bashō 25

dream if bashō
before a roaring
stream
things seized torn
churned into it
the water placid
at the edge





--

Wiki-Stub for the Game 'Valley of the Minotaur'

I see that someone has added a stub on Wikipedia for a game I helped co-create way back in the early 1980s -- 'Valley of the Minotaur'. LOL. My friend Nick Van Dyke was a budding programmer, he coded and designed it -- and I provided the map, content, descriptions, and many of the central characters and plot for the text-based game. To Nick's credit, he was a brilliant developer -- he had already created several games using a TSR-80 -- one was a turn based Star-Trek combat simulator which had a Romulan bird-of-prey that could cloak and de-cloak when it attacked!

Later, we collaborated on a second text based adventure project, 'Return to the Valley of the Minotaur', which was finished, but not published.

The writing and concepts were heavily influenced by popular text based exploration games of the day, including 'Microsoft's Adventure', 'Zork I' and 'II', as well as the maps from 'Wizardry'. There are many mythological influences, too -- I was reading Greek Mythology widely at the time. The minotaur 'boss' character came from a creative writing short-story, called 'Revenge of the Minotaur' I had submitted to one of my teachers in English. Other influences were Dungeons & Dragons, and some of the props from Dr. Who -- the Telephone booth in the game VoTM is a reflection of the Tardis.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valley_of_the_Minotaur

Nick and I had a great time making this game. I added to the article -- we'll see how it holds up. I might even have some of the hand written maps and descriptions in my files. I'll have to look and post them.

***

Update 6.27.14

I have the game -- my dad saved it and my mom found it. Thanks dad, thanks mom. New post with artwork.

dream if bashō 24

dream if bashō
is unafraid of a
red moon or
uncounted fields
that seem to hide
threats or
lonely sentinels






-

dream if bashō 23

dream if bashō
by an old hut
stands stock still
before a trembling
leaf and
blossoming
orchard




.

dream if bashō 22

dream if bashō
appearing so solidly

in a virgin field

of new fallen snow

his feet and yours

making tracks

that later will be gone

 

 

x

dream if bashō 21

dream if bashō
motions to the trickling
water so you see
how quickly
it races headlong
down into dust
to become mud




,

dream if bashō 20

dream if bashō
seemingly lost
in unfriendly country
finds undeniable joy
in unknowing
with feet to walk
and a place to be wandering




..

dream if bashō 19

dream if bashō
under the stars
bows to the earth
bows to you
bugs
in the weeds
going to and fro




*

dream if bashō 18

dream if bashō
is mistaken by you
as anything
like a thunderclap
or a ghost
or mud or lice
or even as bashō




_

dream if bashō 17

dream if bashō
sees the woes of
a robber
or the rage
of an innkeeper
blossoms shaken
loose rain down



:
.
_

dream if bashō 16

dream if bashō
regards two giddy
little sparrows
being watched
by a cat
chirping busy
no idea of peril




"