Poem - everything is full

everything is full
with no room
or just a bit of room
for anything new

but for a few things
please no more
of a day that is sad
or ideas of nobody

we don't need
space for end of
or gonna or was
never or could


[

Poem - they carved out / this place that we fly in and out of

the water mirrored the sky
indirectly it influenced every mood

when i cross the bridge
i look for the stumps of the landing

it is long gone
but it is where orange county began

back bay
keeps telling me the story

of spanish pirates
and the schooners of lumber

missionaries
and farmers and banditos

the dying
cattle and zealots

they carved out
this place that we fly in and out of


**

Back Bay
Just Before Summer
Orange County CA

Poem - you get close / like a light (it plays / on my mind)

you get close
like a light

then recede
without touching anything

just like a
lost boat or plane

that decides
not to make landing

enveloped
in darkness and doubt

choosing
nothing over certainty


*

it plays
on my mind


***

6.8.15
HB

A Poem for Ruben: or cry much over this but i have

“And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.”
― Pablo Neruda



i never expected to find out you were dead
i expected to hear you were a christian pastor
who played rock n roll in his own church
in tie dye and hippy graciousness

then

i expected you to be old and have 15 grand kids
27 great grand kids while you never slowed down
with a guitar in one hand and a book in the other

long snow white hair and bald on top
knowing cezanne, miro, randy rhoads, and queen

you

would always be here as long as i was
not here in the rooms i occupy but spicing up life
for those around you who were lucky enough to know you

when

i saw your last picture you had that same smile
and a fire in your eyes like it would never end
the world and the universe and all of us in it too

but

there is no end nor beginning nor middle nor
any point whatsoever as one turns towards omega point
and we will all be united past all cares

yet

knowing all this i miss you dearly
our time is so short so fleeting
you would forbid me to be angry

or cry much over this but i have
the final gift in memory now a smile


-------

For Ruben Lovato, Jr.

Poem - i had a dream about being high up on a terrace

i had a dream about being high up on a terrace
looking over a long blue plain
where the clouds scattered over it
like they did in barbados
over the sugarcane feilds

you were not there but everywhere
in the sky and in the chair
and the table i looked over
in the dream lunch remains
i had eaten

then i forgot you existed
and kept looking at the clouds
how they sent shadows down
the darkness wedded
with the light green
on the earth



*

Poem - he put a poem on twitter

he put a poem on twitter
it ran away like a little animal
and had fun

\

Poem - in little gilded cages

i was very excited to read they were making
small suns out of onions

i looked a bit closer and it seems they are not
making small suns out of onions

but now i think why shouldn't we figure out how
so this next winter

everyone will have a few suns at home probably
in little gilded cages


5.14.15

Poem - and the grass has grown a mile high it seems

i had a dream
that suggested i be sanely useful in this life

like clear water is
for thirst or food for an empty stomach

but i am easily angered
or my attitude is completed baffling

on one hand i am generous
then a few seconds later i am irritable and selfish

then i realize
wrangling with any idea of attitude is unworkable

because attitude is a construct
working or not working with it is a construct

a construct is a construct
only by letting go can i let go of anything


then inevitably things are simpler
and the grass has grown a mile high it seems




 to Jñana

Come up with the concept of a higher principal that is powerful enough, more powerful than me -- and it is not spiritually deaf to me.

Poem - just out of sight

i wait for it to start raining
i write an email to someone

always something new to learn or do
every single day in this place

i heard an old man say this arising
it is like watching an airplane

some get farther and farther away
while some appear closer and closer

if you can't see the flight
it does not mean it is gone

like a ghost
it is just out of sight


---

for 
Robert Holbrook Smith

Poem - i make friends with crows

i make friends with crows
people say they are the bird of death
but we get along just fine

in the sunshine over snacks
they tell me jokes about the sky
i tell them jokes about what i think


*

Poem - getting ever higher and brighter and happier and faster and higher

i had everything and then my life started being destroyed by my success
but because it looked so good from the outside no one felt anything
as i began to crack my co-workers feigned indifference
and my opponents celebrated with a party

so i celebrated as well to outdo them
insane through laughing and the debts and highs
getting ever higher and brighter and happier and faster and higher
and we all were laughing and partying and excelling and being the 1%

i blacked out
i woke up in a graveyard

i broke the fixtures
in a hotel in las vegas

i drove a bently
into a river

my ca house
burned down

attorneys
pr

2 boxes

nothing

home-
less

not understanding what i am seeing over the top of a wall
it could be palm trees but i don't know in what town
i am this and i don't know where i am
i have this coat and paper

they stole from me down there
took a book and a switchblade and note pad and pens
besides the oil stained creator by the dumpster on the corner
i have always been here i will always be here hello they stole from me


*

Hollywood
2015

Poem - i heard about how you cry at night when you go to sleep

i heard about how you cry at night when you go to sleep
how it all catches up there in the dark
loneliness

it amazes how lonely we all can feel when there are people
all around us who love and want to be loved
we deny them

i do not understand fully nor will i ever know
the inside of a sun or the tide of a new world
or even you

i am handed what i have to make more from nothing
and when i act in faith and courage
everything changed

to be human is to pine of impossible things at times
a preferred moment to never end

or an earthly love
be forever



*

4.1.15

Dream of Laser Vsion

I had a dream where I had laser vision. At will, I could shoot red hot beams from my eyes and wield almost anything together, instantly.

I found this ability to be incredibly useful, and I enjoyed offering to help people with it. I never though just how great it is to have the ability to fuse metal with your eyes. I was all over the town, being of service -- fixing cracked lamp-posts, unlocking broken doors, rescuing trapped motorists, thwarting crimes, or opening jammed time-lock safes.

But then in the dream I decided to live a life of crime, because of my super-power, and I ended up stealing large public sculptures. When I became a villain, I also gained super strength, and I met this pretty girl who had super strength too.

We joined forces and ravaged the city, both of us ridiculously strong & in love, with my melting vision, and no one could stop us.


**

4.01.15

Poem - here i'll distract you with a poem that is hopeful

here i'll distract you with a poem that is hopeful
look out the window do you see that bird

what a nice nest she has with chicks that she feeds
you can see how happy they are and so is she

is it not wonderful that in the heart of this world
new life is always barging in as soon as some goes out

all i need to do is look around with a steady gaze
and not hold on too tight when the day starts or ends



*

3.27.15

Poem - memorization is the calisthenics of the mind

then i saw your boyfriend
or someone who acted like it
and i drove home and started a new painting

even bigger than the last one
to keep me occupied and not thinking
about anything

and i started memorizing
the midnight ride of paul revere by longfellow
because memorization is the calisthenics of the mind

because my mind must be lazy
for me to feel this way

my activity is selfish and
infected with bad motives

or middle age is a desert i cross
and after this is fucking death



*

How to Climb a Rainbow

If you're going to climb a rainbow, you need feather shoes. I prefer goose down shoes -- but any small feathers made into shoes will do.

Ideally look for the cool kind of rainbow that happens as early in the morning. Without any residual heat or glare from a whole day interfering with your climb, it should be simple to go up the side.

Handle the rainbow carefully, don't crimp or put dents in it as you go, or you could get lightening or scattering that makes the rainbow go away.

You can stop at the top, enjoy the view, then slide down either side.

I heard that some folks ride the top of the rainbow as it moves through the sky. I have not tried that yet, because I need to get more confident in my climbing technique and having that feeling on how long the rainbow will be around.

HB\
2013
3 25

Poem - i wrote anotehr poem'a the end of march

i wrote anotehr poem'a the end of march
typed wrong
i didn't fix it

i keep reading joyce's ulysses
slowly and as i go
i start to comprehense

and i am shocked how easily
deadilus gave up the key
amd two pence



+

M 24
2015

Poem - i am the oldest clown in peru / not him

i am the oldest clown in peru
not him

he is a liar
never even attended clown school




*

Poem - nothing vanishes in to thin air

nothing vanishes in to thin air
whatever it was is still before us
in plain sights

for whatever reason
we simply refuse to see it


*

Poem - i have been out with the stars

i have been out with the stars
and i ate with them

they told me we are small
stars

that talk so much


*

poem - time halted and became one / i saw william blake at the window

tranquilly we relit the stars
and they burned brighter than before
seized by our imagination

passing between one or the other
as if in a field full of flowers
bejeweled in feeback of ions

time halted and became one
from the womb of space
i saw william blake at the window



*

Poem - i would think about all the moody things i thought

i would think about all the moody things i thought
then go through old juvenilia until i started throwing it away

because i'm no rimbaud or later even a wallace stevens
and so here i am throwing away all these lines

loosed full of hope on a page when life was a big unknown
and now consigned to ashes in a box labeled BURN

but the moon is a crescent over the bay tonight
and a fire down on the beach would be a prefect thing

i'll burn the old with the new and nothing else need to happen
the perfection of what is burned written or said

i can write it later and burn it again after this
even unevenness arises evenly in this flawed human being

praying to god or the literary angels to be spiffier
with a little light on the beach under the stars



*\

HB
2015.2.17

Poem - they said my ego is a joke / stop laughing this is serious

they said my ego is a joke
but pay attention to it
and you'll always have
something to laugh about

i go back and read
about the shortened lives
of those who loved and wrote

for one
after a lingering
yet graceful death
gloriously he was burned
in a an iron machine on a shore
as a great storm came in

my burning heart
will never be snatched from the flames

instead
i will write this poem
at the mall stop laughing
this is serious



*

Poem: when the revolution started \ they killed him \ he was a poet

when the revolution started
they killed him
he was a poet

you must kill
all the poets and writers
when a revolution starts

we don't always know
where the poet's and writer's
sensibilities lie

they shot a lot
on the side of a road
it is simple to do you see

after he was dead
all sides mourned him

we persecuted
the commander

who had him shot

*

on the road between
alfacar and the village of víznar
the day was splendid

hearts beating faster
a humming bird flashed by
stomach full of nectar

humans loved by god
slowed to the roadblock

the hummingbird loved by god
over the ridge to a tree
and rested

*

how big is the mind of god

---


for
Lorca

Poem - but i will always be willing to come back

i keep realizing i am in nowhere
then i am walking back in my mind
to the present moment

when i get there it is like breaking
a glass window the whole thing shatters
with my head

i stick around for however long
and then my heart or my imagination
whirls me back out to wherever

but i will always be willing to come back
it seems to be important to be here
in this batting cage or battle


*

Poem - not knowing / all i know

not knowing
the exact name for something
proves you have not
destroyed the purity
of what it might be

then going
more into not knowing
to some a void
or waste to be avoided
says ego

all i know
is the sun is like a hot balloon
and this grass is splendid
with you


*

Poem - i live in a city of words

i live in a city of words
in a so so neighborhood
of one of the small paragraphs
you should have read it
before i got here

i am the citizen of a work
that is full of magical-realism
and won't be published

it will be buried
in my body and my mind when i go
to the library in the sky

we are all short stories
and poems and collections of verse
walking and talking and dreaming

some are lists and others
diatribes rant or manifestos

but we all have work to do here
and that is to narrate
to help make sense
when the plot turns

or a chapter begins
or ends



 - - - -

Poem - even unto death

brother of st francis to the center
of a town that hated him
to be humiliated

the citizens freely and enjoyed
abusing the man and beat him
screamed and spat

the brother went back day after day
for more abuse from the people
how easily did he fare

for in all of us are crimes and deeds
we have done to ourselves
and we have inflicted

we acting out of self-admiration
with spite or amusement
even relish

even unto death

a juniper tree bends under a storm
is greener and is thankful
for such punishment

indirectly shields weaker things
by being upright and easy
giving but not breaking


___

for Fra Ginepro

Poem - conquered by any simple act

when i read about the sad thoughts
a russian astronaut had when he beheld the earth
pollution and inequality
technological corruption

i see a hummingbird flash up to my window
and i realize i must go get a feeder
to feed all them in the neighborhood

conception in the world seen from space
or seen from my seat or in our minds
conquered by any simple act



*

Poem - go to any lengths so get the message through

i want to tell you something
i want to know you again
find you

go to any lengths to get the message through

but it was just a dream and at 2.45 am
i turned into a old indian
who had a hat


*

Poem - every sunrise shows / the world is new

i rouse
get going

i must see

every sunrise shows
the world is new

i arise
to see it

then praise
the day

i spent
years

forgetting
how the day

was new




*

HB
Jan 2015

Poem - and she can arise from any place

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

i found a tiger striped shell
as it was getting darker

the side scalloped like where
a miniature venus began life

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

the goddess of love from the sea

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

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


*

Sunset Beach
Jan 2015

Gozo Wonders Who is the Divine Educator?

Gozo wonders who is the Divine Educator?

He asks Ellen.

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

Gozo does so.

"Is it rotten?" asks Ellen.

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

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


*

Oak Park, IL

Poem - and it is just that

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

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

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

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

*

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

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


*

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

and i am in the dark

children do not
turn off the light
like a grownup

this other me
i face every night
can be quarrelsome

can be vain

can be angry

can be lonely

and has opinions

is happy

is inspired

even courageous

can be quarrelsome
i face every night
this other me

like a grownup

turn off the light

children do not 

and i am in the dark

*

To the Machines: I Find My Complaints Are Going Away

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

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

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

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


*

In Any Direction I Wanted To Go

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

*

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

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

*


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

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



**

So See Everyone Including Yourself

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


*

Chung Tzu and the Invisible Man

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

Chung Tzu comes in.

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

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

**

HB BC
Jan 2015

Chung Tzu Smiles and Claps His Hands

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

"Hello there sparrow!" says Chung Tzu.

"Hello there!" I reply.

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

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

"And why is that?"

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

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


***

HB
Rooftop
1.19.15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

they are barely contained in their
pure excellence and shining


*

Poem - wherever we are

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

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

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

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

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



*

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

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

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

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

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

do you think the sky
remembers or forgets anything

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

meeting each other again
and again in the realm of desire

*

for Tsedrup Tharchin

Poem - i have no complaint

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

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

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

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



*

For Tsedrup Tharchin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

Poem - we did all these things / right or wrong

we did all these things
right or wrong

with mistakes that can be made
and possible delusion

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

for that extra hot day
next summer



*

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

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

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

the lights of the drilling platforms
all uniform yellow and bright

the reflections of them
go straight down

towards the viewer
on the bridge that the highway crosses


**

Seal Beach
Jan 2015

Poem - When

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

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

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


**

Poem - A poem written and posted on the Internet

listless stupid
but at this time in my life

no justification
for suck and drawing air

don't bother to listen
just watch what i do


*

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

being angry with you
is like being unhappy with a graveyard

everything is dead there
but some of the words are interesting



*

Poem - if i keep praying for you

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

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

but for your parents
and family

new lovers
and jobs you might take

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

now i remembered
and i started again

because i hated you
all over again

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

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


i'll hate you
and love you
forever

so here is to
forgetting through prayers


*

Poem - A Short Poem

i do not despair
i write more

i make notes
6662 heil ave

greater poets
captured this life

i bang words
together like pans

musical words
of the greats
keats

bang bang bang
klang klang
me

if i do it 10.000
one may be ok

someone might read
it and then cry

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

i want to give
to you

something that
works


**

HB
2015 Jan

Poem - A POEM FOR ROBERT or Keats was right

he's dead
and his poetry

is going
going going
gone

   'writ on water'
   it all is

   Keats was right

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

have i lived
anywhere

i could have
scooped up
page after page

in my arms
at the time

poems were
common as leaves
in the font room

like leaves
unraked in
the yard

and his
file of
correspondences
impressive
and organized

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

i always felt
hope even
for me
being
accepted

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

even if it
was
infuriating

and you lived
poetry
and it was you

two slim
volumes i have

the rest online

will be going
going
gone


   'writ on water'
   it all is

   Keats was right




***


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

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

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

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

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

one of the guys
holds a nice jar
or bucket

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

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

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

and over there
with a statute
of laocoön
in the garden



---



San Francisco
Legion of Honor
12.31.14

Poem - Cocktail

we took ourselves
to the performance
and saw the latest band

their singer was paranoid
and everyone was drunk

we waded across the room
we moved across the place
a sea of powdered faces
in the dark

there were punks in pink laces
and black leather dominating submissives
and snake skin fellers
who wore their hats on backwards

gesticulating fucks
salivating savants

they were all here
we were all here
in this cocktail

and did you know
the world ended 30 years ago
after this the stage is dark

trouble is god never
told us we were fired
and to pack up and go

but what to do with those
empty pauses and
blank spaces that pass for eyes

guess if were were all smart
there'd be no room for freedom
if it fits
wear it like a shoe

they were all here
we were all here
in this cocktail

the last thing i remember
before we were arrested

i kept on thinking of
corporate art and the cop looked
like my neighbor
who is building high-explosives
in a shed

oh want to do
we were all here
in this cocktail

Here You Go: Try This

a. Superlife Intelligence keeps us alive because we are funny. Multidimensional timeless beings watch us intact with finite time, and a finely previewed Universe like you or I would observe a video game, a show in the theater, or set up a model train set.

b. We are dirt, and we go back to dirt. That is all.

c. Thank you, more please.

d. Let me tell you a joke about an Englishman, a Frenchman, and a 12 foot tall Rabbit.

A Doodler and a Writer of Things Like This

It is getting darker early, and I feel the dark. Like a child, I have to turn on the lights. I hear from my eighty-three year old father in-law that he's got ten more years -- and that is it! He told me, when he was in his forties, he had all the time in the world!

   a. I told him my great-grandfather died when he was 98, but I don't remember exactly how old he was when he died.

   b. I know he was almost 100 when he died.

   c. I know he died alone, of starvation, because he wouldn't eat enough and he lived alone.

Exchanging those for more cheerful thoughts, I look out the window and I think about having fun doing something like playing minecraft with my son. Christ this is what I've become. A doodler and a writer of things like this.

But on the other hand, I've always have been writing about a stray raindrop on the window, how it has a million universes in it. Ten years or forty more is a deathless eternity, for the mind that can make the jump from fear to hope, as free as a funny bug or a twirly snowflake.


* *
*

BLESS US ALL

Cherry Trees and Blossoms in my Heart Will Never Cease

There's a thousand reasons to appreciate the cherry blossoms, but none of them make the blossoms bloom. I can't tell one thought from one single blossom petal. Like love or imagination, the numbers of thoughts and cherry trees and blossoms in my heart will never cease.

__

Blue Evening

The weather people know it will be raining. Coming night is blue -- I've written the twilight is blue before, and it is again. If you write about one particular time of evening enough, you'll use the same words, eventually. It might be raining now, I'll have to go look.

Moon like a yellow ball of cotton, the sky hazy and awakening to stars. I hear the metal fabricators, a half block away. The light from there is white, big warehouse doors open to keep cool, almost all year round.

Then suddenly the ordinary parking-lot could be anywhere -- a field in Napa, or out in the desert by Stovepipe Wells or by a meadow next to redwoods in Northern California. Memory raises the tent of perception and the fence is a hedge and the bare earth planters are full of roses or mint that grew like crazy by the stream.

Faces come and go, like lanterns, or a flash of the beam from a lighthouse. I go back in, the warehouse is larger on the inside, larger and larger until it rains.

----

HB
12.1.14

Today Today

I was in love with you. I think you loved me too, you acted funny, like you loved me when we were together. We may have been so young, we didn't fully comprehend what this connection meant. Or it was just a passing fancy. We are doomed to be separated.

When I first met you, you were driving a old beat-up convertible Porsche. The headlights didn't work, so we couldn't drive around a lot when it got dark. We both lived in the dorms, at the community college.

Now I've looked away, and about 35 years have gone effortlessly by. Well, not completely effortlessly. But you can imagine it was quick, like riding on a Mardi Gras float. Possibly 25 years have gone by. Now I remember the toil. It wasn't all suffering. Life is hilarious.

We've all had relationships like this. They are like fairy tales. Then in the now, today today it might finally rain. And that is good too.



----

It Was Raining in Napa

Before I woke up, it was raining in the morning, in Napa. I could hear it raining in my half sleep, and when I opened my eyes it was blue outside, with mist between the house and the mountain. Whenever it rains and I am waking up in a room, I think about the story Richard Brautigan wrote about the rain, a small room, and a phone. I think he was lonely.

My son was still sleeping under a pile of blankets. I watched my son sleep, like you might watch water run under a bridge, or a watch hand tick. Every parent has done this. The kid wasn't doing much, but it was interesting to look at him.

Then I saw someone in the reflection of the mirror at the foot of the bed, and though I wasn't surprised to see someone looking at me, I had forgotten who I was, how old I was, and that I had a body. Then Danny woke up and we talked about video games, dinosaurs, and Star Wars.


-----

Napa
Day after Thanksgiving 2014

I Am the One That You Left Behind

I am the one you left behind
I am the one you're not thinking of
People think they know the answers
 Because they come to mind
But I am the one that you left behind

I am the one that is deep inside
A measureless truth beyond all size
Journey more than 10,000 miles,
  I'll still be at your side
For I am the one that you left behind

Living through this world of death and lies
You summon up the strength to meet the tide
But the strength it comes from within
 It comes before your pride
I am the one that you left behind

*

The Definition of "Hypocrisy"

So I hear someone claim that the definition of "Hypocrisy" literally means "being of two minds" -- and I liked that -- it was enlightening, it was original. Often we misuse words, we don't honor the shades of meaning they can represent. One should understand the meaning of a word, and this person was helping me.

But when I look it up I see "Hypocrisy" comes from Middle English: from Old French "ypocrisie", via ecclesiastical Latin, from Greek "hupokrisis" ‘acting of a theatrical part,’ from "hupokrinesthai" ‘play a part, pretend,’ from hupo ‘under’ + krinein ‘decide, judge.’ Did you get all that?

Then I wonder if the person who made the statement about "Hypocrisy" is an idiot, like nobody would actually check to see if they are right about what they said. Or possibly they have made up the meaning of this word in their head.

It could be they were acting as a hypocrite, fulfilled literally the definition of the word they claimed they were defining in error.

But mostly I was pissed at the fucking nonsense I head people spout off, and it sounds good, but it is stupid and untrue.



*

Aaron Bur Kills George Washington's Clone

Waking up, I kept thinking about the bizarre situation where a historical institution in the far future has to keep euthanizing the clone of Arron Bur, when Aaron Bur kills George Washington's clone. Because for some reason, the clone of Arron Bur does not get along with the the clone of George Washington.

I thought about this for about an hour, I think.

*

Poem - i'm starting to avert my eyes / i never did that before

i'm starting to avert my eyes
i never did that before

up till now
i'd look at anything
with the idea i could take it

i'd look at anything
with the concept if it seemed wrong
i could fix it or i could conquer it

everything i let in i imagined somehow
i could get to the point
where i could control whatever it was
in my mind

but now i have a feeling
not to turn away
always be there to help

but i don't need to lock it up
in my head with my eyes



*

Poem - past even memory

      for R, V, J, S, M, etc.

it seems to be a lot of trouble to remember
how this imaginary me got hurt

and what this phantom wanted
or how this dream was going to be satiated

i saw flowers and ladders and tears
i tried to hold onto people

now here i am looking at a white wall
on a bright day in november

all those fellow talkers grabbers
wigglers and strives are off somewhere else

it is amazing how impermanent
struggle and suffering with others are

because one moment they're here forever
next moment they were never here at all

i've decided all you can do is be kind
and not hope at all

filling in holes other people
dug into the ground

or climbing higher not staying
at any summit of any desire

so
if you are reading this and you
are higher up on the path

and
i did anything for you once
that was kind

if
i forget the right way to go
or confuse down with up

shine
a light or make a loud yell
even make me think you're god

.

.

anything to get me to want
to keep going past the summit
of whatever i think

we were all born
to climb

past even memory



*

Poem - i think if i saw a real don quixote

i think if i saw a real don quixote
i'd cry and i would marvel at anyone
who would follow him

as it is i have a paper sculpture
of the man astride his steed
forcefully twisted and upright

vision has a certain glory
and naiveté considerable wisdom
excommunicated from this world


**

Poem - it is hard to remember anyways

if I feel wounded
i have everything
to do with feeling hurt

i arrived to the point
where the pain was beyond
anything you could say or do

with actions or words
you don't bother to remember
living in fragments

if you make a comment
and someone is happy or sad
well there you go that is life

possibly someone is angry
and they think ill of you
it is all just the same

you don't worry
it is hard to remember anyways

this sunk in
and i felt bad at being hurt
and i began to show you charity

by treating everyone
with respect with gentleness
and not asking so much from them

seeing what i can do
for them first and me second
then cruel thoughts have gone away

my suffering i laughed
it is hard to remember anyways


__



For R

Poem - between earth and the sky

if you are filled with thoughts
more thought will not still mentality

as if to douse or smother fire
one adds more kindling and logs

then cut to the root of the matter
whatever you occupy yourself with
dreaming like a sillyheart

it is all and fine but we are kinder
moons in the water or rainbows
between earth and the sky


*

to Dudjom Lingpa

Poem - they know my name

they know my name
i don't know theirs
people have been talking

i never know
what the gossip is about

my fly is undone
my clothes are the same
i write all the time




*

Poem - i don't know if we are we sinners or are just lost / but i know that the path goes on and i'll walk it

i'm searching for something outside of myself
that can only be found on the inside

i am searching for it because i don't trust in god
or whatever i am supposed to trust in

i look of what cannot be found due to faithlessness
in the unfolding process that denies no one

so in writing this i am getting over myself
hopefully helping you if you've been where i am

but if i get stuck and you know what i mean
reaching out to a friend or acquaintance certainly helps

i don't know if we are we sinners or are just lost
but i know that the path goes on and i'll walk it

i'll say in the end it does not matter what we thought
only what we did in devotion towards each other


*

Poem - i laugh at my own jokes

i laugh at my own jokes
i even laugh when i write these lines

i'm not lonely but i'm sitting alone
with a window on the right

i have bookcases and my favorite books
that i can see by the window and i laugh
when i read the books

i have a perfect view
the outside world and the inner one

i should remember to let people in
so we can laugh together



*

Quote: Lenny Bruce - The Role of a Comedian

"The role of a comedian is to make the audience laugh, at a minimum of once every fifteen seconds."

-- Lenny Bruce

Poem - I Know You Can Hear Me

-- to HFC

kitty i know you can hear me
even though you pretend i don't exist

as if you were in deep cosmic meditation
looking down at your curled paws
beyond all concern for food or petting
the clue that betrays your facade:

wherever i move in the room
your ears follow me
never stop tracking me

so i'll give you a can
of food and then a good scratch


---

10.13.14

Poem - in the end i see

in the end i see
we can either get religion
or become blasphemers

i hope that
as the path becomes narrower
the mind becomes broader

i have no idea
how i will feel when i am dying
but neither does a fly know

and a bug
has no worries for this
and lives a very good life as a bug


**

HB
10.10.14

Poem - looking at pictures / from 1999

looking at pictures
from 1999
we were younger then

at the time
it seemed brighter
the backgrounds look dark
like dipped in maple syrup

but this is my eyes
or the paper on the pictures
fossilizing


___

10.10.14

Poem - will sail on in my mind & be everywhere

me realizing i'll never be like others and
then i remember for some reason

my roommate bobby
was cool and he stole one
of my books and he listened to
'the velvet underground' all the time
with his good looking girlfriend anita

i can still see him and anita curled up
together on the couch drinking beer
reading these poems of r manley
in the first edition bobby asked
if he could peruse through

people come into my life
and then go and i see now that
when i thought someone was staying
they were already gone and when i knew
they were gone they were just showing up

so someday i might see bobby again with or
without the book i loaned him and i hope
i find out what happened to pretty anita
i do know that bobby will be cool
a bit sad now and heroic

and i'll never be cool like this
will sail on in my mind & be everywhere


***

Poem - Living out on Margarine Acres

i lived on a ranch in a rugged valley
i rented a room there

people died on the road all the time
and the owners

they kept loaded guns and shot
at any animal that didn't belong

it was a peaceful existence
they had a coffin pillow in the front room

i could walk for miles and miles
through hills and woods

there were skulls
of wild animals that died in the grass


**

Margarine Acres
"One of the Cheaper Spreads"
Bennett Valley, CA

Poem - and the seas still defy our imagination

on this day in history
columbus found an island in the bahamas

he was sure he had found
the far east he so sorely wished it

when he found cuba
he knew he was close to the island of japan

for the rest of his life
he was convinced he had found the indies

his only regret was
he hadn't enough lifetime to get to the capital

of china and the empire
stuffed with incalculable spices and gold

to be converted or overthrown
in the name of this crossed christian god

seas of time rolled
and the new world was cultivated

converted or overthrown
and the seas still defy our imagination


*

Poem - even smile / living on nothing

i remember you
and your pistol tatoos
in escondido

i hope you
aren't dead or
hurt or in jail

but you
never know

because escondido
was like last stop
before the desert

remarkable
creatures we are

how much
of a beating
we can take

remarkable
how one can
make it look
tolerable

even smile
living on nothing


*

10.07.14

Poem - boëthius was going / to reconcile / faith with reason

boëthius was going
to reconcile
faith and reason

conjungere rationem 
fidemque

they tightened
a rope around
his head

until his eyes
bulged out

and clubbed him
to death

but from 'the consolation
of philosophy'
we get the prayer

  let me accept the things
  i cannot change

  and the courage
  to change the things i can

  and the wisdom to know
  the difference

i can't tell
i know i never will

boëthius is
the moon half risen
i see tonight

wrapped in
sheet of fine linen

or paper that
dissolves in water






+


for Anicius Manlius Severinus Boëthius
 c. 480–524 or 525 AD

Poem - On Hearing of Snow in Chicago

i heard it snowed in chicago
just the other day

snow in october

here in southern california
just a spritz of rain would be welcome

i remember what it was like
when winter was coming to the midwest

one day you'd feel
a breath in the air of cold wind

the coldest wind you'll even meet

and you knew you'd feel
that frigid bright chill in february

but before then the leaves
would turn yellow and red

and you would be swimming in them

the falling leaves now are dusted in snow
glittering like confections at night

kids going to school in the morning

enjoy kicking through them
and the ice cracks like ladyfingers



---

HB
10.05.14

Poem - don't think about loss or gain

don't think about loss or gain
just do and avoid the trap of the old desires

if you are in action you've defied most expectations
even your own limited thinking


*

Quote: Charles Schulz - Winning vs. Losing

Charles Schulz said: "Most of us are much more acquainted with losing than we are with winning. Winning is great, but it isn't funny."



*

Poem - water

i found out that the water on earth
is older than the sun and so is ancient
beyond all estimations born in a sun
that died beyond the limits of whatever
meager time we can hope to manage

made i swim and drink and eat it
like a glint of the embers from the reflection of it
fire in my blood in froth and tide that rose
and fell here and on other worlds now vaporized
renewed thrown down risen up

the star in us each one of us down here
that has a trail that shoots into vast darkness
it could be that god is the star or the stars' star
or even beyond this i will never know
i will only see through a narrow window

not bound by earth or time we will migrate
to heaven to hell or yesterday or to tomorrow
the small view becomes greater through suffering
the view becomes broader with gain or loss
water is unchanged serene and beyond death


8

Poem - was blue just at sunset i'll never know

i'm sure jesus swam a few times in his life
i wonder if he knew when his last swim was swum

these kind of things i think about as i grow older
not much wiser but the mind roams wider and wider

if jesus ever daydreamed about the almighty
i wonder who that abba was and how did it feel

i wonder if jesus liked chocolate or if his favorite cloud
was blue just at sunset i'll never know


----

to Jesus

Poem - but only if given away entirely

why be right about suffering or heartbreak
or be the bearer of bad news

instead why not work in secret
so everyone wakes up to a new brought day

and no one even suspects
how you furnished it and at what expense

they can have it and so can you
but only if given away entirely



*

I Make up Stories

Like you, I make up stories about things than never happened, based off personal experience. But I don't have the discipline, or chutzpah, of a novelist. I should be the hero. I am not.

--

HB

I Read Widely

Like you, I read widely, and then I formulate opinions on things I know nothing about. But I have read about them.

_

HB

Poem - when any friend shows up / there is a celebration

your lips move when you read
only the most important things
like poetry or montaigne

you still have imaginary friends
at 47 years old and you are offended
when they don't stop by to play

but like montaigne or blake
they are old friends real or not

when any friend shows up
there is a celebration
in the real world


*

Poem - she said have no hope

she said have no hope
abandon it altogether

then you can be happy
and i see it is true

you can't explain it either
because being happy

with or without hope
is the rarest thing of all


--

HB
2014 .8

dedicated to Jñana

Poem - it is fortunate to be in love

i can write a poem and not tell you
i'll tape it to my sunshade
or inside a drawer and think of you

it is fortunate to be in love
and be totally anonymous

because you're unaffected by my feelings

this is a revolution in my thinking
to love and have no contact

i'm taking the longer view now

we are all doomed
to be separated



+

God Fans out the Cards

God fans out the cards. "Pick a card, any card."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're GOD! You can make those cards do anything you want."

"I won't cheat."

"You're GOD! Omnipotent beings can't cheat."

God sighs, but I can see he is very entertained. "You're not making this very easy. Please."

"OK."

God fans the cards. "Pick a card, any card."

I pick a card.

"Did I ever tell you the time, while I was making the Universe, when we got to the fourth day, and we had to decide how big to make the Sun, Moon and Stars?"

"You did a nice job. I like how big they are."

"Oh, well thanks. I wasn't asking for your approval."

"I was being agreeable."

"When I say the word "happy" -- what is the first thought that comes into your mind?"

"You."

"Good answer!"

"And the second thought?"

"Me."

"Even better! You're on a streak today."


***


9.15.14

1 Act Play: Columbus to the Navigator

NOON: CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS AND CREW IN NEW WORLD



                                        CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

                                 (Pointing to NAVIGATOR)
                    If you say "AH HA!" one more time, when I discover a new island -- I will pack you                           back to Spain in chains.


LATER


                                       LOOKOUT

                    Land ahoy!


                                        NAVIGATOR:

                   AH HA!!!


END

Another short story

When I think of a life hack, I think of someone hacking with a meat cleaver.


__

The captains short story written on a window in felt tip pen

In space I dont have to explain everything. or anything, I am the captain and I can shut off your air while you sleep.


____

USS Cynus
April 2099

Poem - i am broken / like the 3rd blue moon now in one day wane

i am broken
i will disappoint you
i will make you angry

i am broken
i will go out of my way to help you
i will never give up

i am broken
i will invent stories
i will tell the truth

i am broken
i will apologize for things not mine
i will take the blame of others

i am broken
i have great fear and great faith
i have determination and serenity

i am broken
i will feel sorry for you
i will feel sorry for me

i am broken
i will wake up every day like it is new
i will always choose to smile and not frown

*

i am broken
i treat you with respect
i treat my family with respect
i treat my enemies with respect
i treat the bugs with respect
i treat myself with respect


*

for Jñana



like the 3rd blue moon now in one day wane
i am silly i am old i am young i am new
i am foolish i am wise i know nothing i know everything
i am doomed i am perfect

Poem - To Robert Funge - down it goes / with a hundred things or more

bob funge is dead
but he lives in my mind
because there is a part of my consciousness
where there is no time

there will always be a place
in my soul and heart
where it is fine to drink
and a place where bob is working
at his desk on poetry

he'll be at the house
on elm street in san carlos
with the yard gone to hell
and the room where the drapes
gently fell apart

bob didn't care about clothes
or money or property
or dumb stuff like that
he only cared about poetry
correspondences and baseball

he mostly only cared
about poetry

he worried about only
two things
his son and his daughter

daughter couldn't
get clean

so when he couldn't sleep
he'd walk the streets of the town
at night the cops knew
who he was

or when he got angry
he would walk
the streets at night

or when he was worried
he'd walk again
at night

i see him walking
at night and working
on poems

down it goes
with a hundred things
he told me and we laughed about

i can see one of his books
from where i sit now

the ultimate tribute

down it goes
with a hundred things or more
he told me and we laughed about


-----

Dedicated to Robert Funge
Sept. 13, 1931-
Mar. 22, 2013

Poem - and if you do know

don't realize
everything you didn't think about
was thought out
was a message

hotel room
restaurant club
how you cocked your hip
and smiled

and if you do know


>