i was the sunday night date
last in line and i knew it

after we said goodbye
she sat in her car and texted

she was in contact with the
someone who she really loved

but i understood i needed
to get out even for a sunday date

she didn't matter and i didn't either

Henry Ford Who

"Nobody likes him! Why should they?" says Henry Ford, looking up from the newspaper. "He's a horrible person!"

Chung Tzu hums and looks out the window at bunny tracks in the snow.

"Who is?" I ask.

"Who?" says Henry Ford.

"WHO IS?"

"I don't know!" says Henry Ford.



-----

Florida St
St Louis Park

Leaches and Drinking

I look up from the book I was reading. "Wow! Did you know a leach has a three-jawed mouth, two hearts, two circulatory systems, five pairs of eyes, 32 brains, and 10 stomachs?"

Chung Tzu sits there, to let it all sink in.

"Amazing! And you thought you were special!" says Stove Parts.

***

I meet Broken Pot in a tavern. Broken Pot gets drunk.

"You have the ability to be a drunk, how can you stop drinking?" says Broken Pot.

We walk to the highest hill. It is cold and late, the moon is high above us. The wind blows through us so our teeth chatter.

"By discarding all thinking. By discarding all ideas of good or bad towards drinking."

We walk back to the tavern. By the time we get back, Broken Pot is sober.

peace peace peace peace

i'm sleeping there's no dream
the mind like a flashing light

with the absence of thoughts
and unencumbered from ego

there is peace peace peace peace
in each peace was happily ever after

wakening to a morning with
a quarter inch of new snow



**

did anything else matter / after you saw those few snow flakes

did anything else matter
after you saw those few snow flakes

did you see them
widely scattered and wandering

each one appearing as if

with no purpose
each one with no aim


____

Evening
St Louis Park

Chung Tzu Asks Do You have a Fire in Your Head?

"I can use my negative thinking to out-think my negative thinking!" I exclaim.

"Hmmm. Let me see. What is fire? Can fire burn water?" wonders Chung Tzu, "Can fire burn fire? Or fire burn air? Or earth? Oh my!"

"Fire burns wood!"

"Just like the thoughts seem to burn in your mind. But do you have a fire in your head?" asks Chung Tzu.


-----

1.18.20

bodhicitta shining / like a light on the light shining

bodhicitta shining
like a light on the light shining

scripture or non scripture
each cherished

every action out and in
in and out

coming around in a great circle
in endless circles



***

Chung Tzu: Oh my brother. Don't deceive yourself.

"I'm not entirely certain I ever had that. Or even wanted something like that."

"Oh my brother. Don't deceive yourself." says Chung Tzu coming into the kitchen, from the tiny pantry. "You certainly did."

"Well now it is now stuck in my head. Just like a song. Just like an exception to the rule."

Chung Tzu points to a melting icicle, warming in the sun. "Would you like for me to come up with a nursery rhyme to remember this?"


*****

Winter
Florida Street South

Seven O'Clock

There's a middle-aged black woman ahead in line at the grocery store, when another middle-aged black lady inserts her trolley between me and the checkout clerk.

She waits about 5 seconds before slowly looking my way.

"Oh. I got in front of you." she says. "I'm in your place."

"Yes you did." I say, because it is true. She did cut in front of me. "It is okay. Go ahead, take my place."

She stares at me, seeing if I am high or drunk. Then she looks at me like I have horns growing out of my head.

I don't tell her she could be anyone! A Buddha, and angel, a heavenly being in disguise in a grocery store, cutting in line. Or a middle-aged African American woman. Teaching patience, about letting go, living life as it is. Not needing to fight, or protect your turn in line.

As the line moves slowly, she stares at the woman in front to her. I don't know how God or the Universe works. I don't know why we are tested, or when I am being tested, or when I am not being tested. So I believe it can be at any time, with anyone, and I keep living that way the best I can.

She ignores me until she is checked out, and even after that she keeps her eye on me. I pretend to not notice her. I bag my groceries, and as I walk through the dark slushy parking lot, I hear someone like her in the background behind me, and she could be cursing someone out or spontaneously singing a hymn loudly to Jesus.

It all happens so fast sometime, when I turn and look, it must have been my imagination. Cars keep driving, people are smiling or frowning, at seven o'clock.


-----

Cub
Hopkins at Highway 7

I see Chung Tzu down the street. Happy New Year.

I see Chung Tzu down the street, he has a wet tree branch.

"Happy New Year! I told Joe about you, out in Corcoran. But I saw you over there anyways."

"Uh huh!" says Chung Tzu.

"Do you want an introduction?"

"Hah! HIM? We already got to know each other all summer. He's been introducing ME to YOU."

I give Chung Tzu a deep bow. He nods, and hoists the stick.


***


if you're missing the Tao as soon 
as you stop yearning there it is
don't pity your own selfishness
if you think you can't find it

when you see it to forget yourself
if you're not looking for the Tao
it will surely find you because it is 
mother of ten thousand things 

***

Jan 2020
St Louis Park

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

The rules for a contented life

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

The rules for a discontented life

no sounds to express truth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or to hope

***

eat better

eat better

i drip fried chicken for blood
and have candybar thoughts

by 10:03

i've saved then lost then saved
myself thought me

suddenly in sharp focus
the thinker

like a robber
caught in light

a bit of a monster

but wanting to be nice


*

there's a place where the factories end

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

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

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

because nature never stops dreaming
but we do


*

i see the mississippi river

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

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

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

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


*

poet checks their poetry

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




*

i am going

i am going

there is nowhere to go


there is no place to stay



speaking

no words to speak


no thoughts to form





all in

intention



all in the doing

i am going/ there is nowhere to go

i am going

there is nowhere to go

i am staying

there is no place to stay

speaking

no words to speak

thinking 

no thoughts to form

all in 

intention

all in the doing

of intent

888

making art out of inferior aims

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


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

surrounded by beauty always
you see it as such essence

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



**

baba georges invents everything

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

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

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

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

***

can you tell someone politely to shut up

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

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



**

they are coming for us

they are coming for us

to read us bad poetry

we can't get away from it

it is our own poetry

*

they are coming for us

to put us all in prison

there is no escape

from making bad art

*

as if the sky / was coming out of

as if the sky
was coming out of
the apartment

from the
second story
painted blue

inside
the upper rooms
clouds rest

on chairs
call them
for rain or thunder



***



malta

the link to the page is broken / but the error is the point

the link to the page is broken
but the error is the point

just like the finger points
blocks the full moon

message broken we fall silent
mind settles and is now




****

every morning / i awake

every morning
i awake
encased in flesh
bone and grist
when earlier
as a child
i sprang forth
from bed
without even
a second
thought beyond
joy

but every morning
i am so happy
to be alive
this joy
gets stronger
and younger
every
morning

as ageless
as the
light past
the drapes
and as
exultant

----

Florida Street
St Louis Park

the spring pushes out

the bright still winter day
has no aspirations barely moves

yet stuns us into silence
borne from natural admiration

steady shining light
simplicity and stark beauty

devoid of exaggeration

glittering snow
is glittering snow

trees in a line down
to the frozen brook

were a black patch shines
a small bird dances

the spring pushes out


---------------





the bright still winter day
has no aspirations and barely moves
yet stuns us into silence and
ego-less contemplation of awareness

borne from a natural admiration
of simplicity and stark beauty
devoid of exaggeration through
the steady shining light

glittering snow is glittering snow
trees in a line down to the frozen brook
were a black patch shines a small bird
dances the spring pushes out



____

Joe's Place
Corcoran

some people are still wondering

some people are still wondering
if animals dream when life for us all
is a dream and many of these creatures
have better ones than ours

***

we are all born crazy/ and not fitting in

we see his place
sparking white stone walls
forged out of talent
out of creative compulsion

he died alone
without his friends or family
every outfit like
the layers of an onion
that had no end to it

there are
intangibles with everyone
when you experience them
you know a little bit more
about who they are

why they are
irreplaceable

some come here like
a bolt of lighting
they are the flash and boom
in things they say and do
what they make

and

we are all born crazy
and not fitting in
and this feeling stays
and we shine painfully
or we quash it


-----

Chanhassen
9/29.19

i hear a train it is far away / you can tell by the sound of the whistle

i hear a train it is far away
you can tell by the sound of the whistle

as it gets closer the rain falls harder
the train blows the horn again and again

i wonder if the train is the rain
as the rain falls harder and the train gets closer

as the train recedes from the horn
the rain starts to slacken off

when i can't hear it at all
the rain stops and the sun comes out

so it might be so
rain train


----


St Louis Park

The clown and I are in a cafe, not a very nice cafe, a Caribou Coffee.

The clown and I are in a cafe, not a very nice cafe, a Caribou Coffee.

The clown is looking at one of my short stories.

"Is it genuine feeling? Or is it just a kind of base sentimentality?" I implore to the clown.

The clown keeps reading the story.

"Does it have rhythm? Is it surprising?"

The clown jumps up and runs out, knocking over things. He returns with a goat in a party hat.

"What!"

The clown rubs his belly and indicates we have reached the promised land. The goat is eating my story.


****

It is about 4 pm on a afternoon turning to rain. He's handing poems printed out on seed packets to most people who don't care at all

It is about 4 pm on a afternoon turning to rain. He's handing poems printed out on seed packets to most people who don't care at all. They'd be the last person who would ever want to look a a poem or consider a story about love or longing. It was his idea of being heroic and reaffirming innocent. He's a little buzzed, but not feeling the darkness that overpowers him towards midnight after he's climbed the hill to a decaying Victorian he lives in with huge damp roses that lean down like sleeping heads towards the filth of the small dirt spaces by the guarded bars of the basement windows where he loved a girl and she moved to Japan.

Later he's recovered his mind by about one AM in his silk bathrobe, landing softly back into a life with heaps of papers, a pipe, and a crazy quilt stacked bed with Japanese haiku circling overhead. He sees Mark Twain in the mirror with a hat that an Indian wore once, a calm sure reinforcement that boosts morale in the gentlest siege of the soul. The gentlest siege through eyes and mind that begs for beauty in a world of gasoline, progress, mashed bottle-caps, boiled food, and disconnected telephones. A few of his seed packets here are at hand, and having no witness there is the joy of scattering joy nonetheless and believing it would kindle a few more who will go deep into their own forests and cities and find then give back.


***

Richard Brautigan would write different short stories, each one would be like a leaf from the most interesting tree you ever did see.

Richard Brautigan would write different short stories, each one would be like a leaf from the most interesting tree you ever did see. He wrote novels that were collections of these leaves, a whole heap and a basket of them with little bits of twigs and scruff and bark bits from his mind. A reader could spill out the bushel of them and rake the stories into whatever piles they liked, all on the living room floor or wherever they were and enjoy the way the writing scrunched. Brautigan would have been happy to know some bugs or worms got in there, the flecks and damp on these leaves endless illuminated space of imagination, leaves staining the vaults of longing, and leaves curling in caves of interconnected green stained-glass telephone booths.


***

September 18
At a nice place to pause in your mind

Lazarus of Bethany

Now, I'm Lazarus, and I'm old. I'm going to be dying a second time. It might next week, or next month, or anytime, though I hope it will be after my great grandkid Ishmael comes here for the summer. My daughter's husband owes me a lot of money, because he's good-for-nothing. Ishmael will work in the vineyards to make up for some of it. The family thinks I'll be a terrible taskmaster for Ishmael, and I pretend it will be a long difficult summer for him. But really he's my favorite great grandson and we sneak off and sit by the river and fish and we take turns telling stories and having a nice time not doing anything.


****

This story will make no sense at all. I saw a clown on the side of the road.

This story will make no sense at all. I saw a clown on the side of the road. I was about 20 minutes from home, and the clown looked like he was dead. I waited for a car to pass, but no cars drove down the country road.

It took me about ten minutes to decide to see if the clown was really dead. I carefully walked up, half averting my eyes, dreading what I might see. I was trembling head to foot.

The clown was fine. He honked his horn at me.



***

Napa
Foster Road

i have none of the right mindfulness

i have none of the right mindfulness
i have lazarus in my mind waiting the be resurrected
i have a hawk on a chai tea cup with a candle stub
i have plasticated flummoxes with buttons that twirl clockwise

i have arrived finally
here i am no artifice
i confess please help me

when i sit i become more angry
the architect of my own hell

i'll never give up breathing
watching my breath

the only thing i seem to do
that works



***

have you seen the new lego pineapple?

have you seen the new lego pineapple?

the new lego lazarus is holding it,
staring at you accusingly.


***

the streets isolated neat and boring

on vacation
we will fit in though just visiting
walk through the gated community

lacking the stuff so we make do
become mimes with a mime dog we are walking

cold like the fog
the streets isolated neat and boring

if only a ship would wreck
and we could go over the bones


----

Bodega Bay
2015

under a vast lake measured in spoons

it is raining
just like when i woke up
at 3.30 am and heard the rain
and the sound of a clogged gutter
like a miniature waterfall on the deck

at 7.30 i grab a ladder
i clean out the sticks and leaves
everything looks properly wet

we are a reverie
home a gentle genie
under a vast lake measured in spoons





***

entirely strange

you were brilliant
i am still blinded by how bright you shone
how fortunate i am to have known you

you inspired me to tell the truth
taught me how to communicate feelings
i never saw you afraid of anything

still thinking about conversations
laughing at some of the jokes
remembering the musical discoveries

the contradictions
the quirks
force of personality

you had deep flaws that i couldn't see
did anyone know what was deep inside you
i'm sorry if you could never tell us

because of you i sensed larger rooms
bigger moments and deeper relationships
all through deciding to have it and the courage to go

some sprint and others double-down
the marathon of life or stages in the highest climb

you are both in the past and above me in some place
to meet again when it will be like a new day

just like the first day we met not so long ago
you bright happy confident and entirely strange



----

for
r

fall
2019

every star is like a hole

every star is like a hole
pushed through black paper
thoughts made each one



*

locked out of the cabinet of my mind

locked out of the cabinet of my mind
thank you that i have such caution
to be caught this way



*

The captain of the flight says his name is "Cheesy Love Guacamole"

The captain of the flight says his name is "Cheesy Love Guacamole". Other than the name, it is a ordinary flight. We land in Minneapolis 25 minutes early, because of some favorable tail winds.



***

splendid heaven will undress all our statements

splendid heaven will undress all our statements
revealing cloistered grandmothers or miraculous vision




**

it said BILLIONS and LOVE

he lived a small life
like an enchanting dot

but if you looked close
it said BILLIONS and LOVE


***

i'm working hard to stay out/ of the same old thoughts and same old day

i'm working hard to stay out
of the same old thoughts and same old day
because a series of thoughts like that or this regular day
the thoughts and day that keep getting blander and more tired
boring thoughts on a uneventful day
so life starts to curl up and suck a thumb
with an empty type of daydream wholess and vague
why would i want that

even if working hard at it is just the opposite
i'm going to do something


*

the shade was like a jail

the shade was like a jail
grass in the backyard erect

yellow steel sided house
overwrought we do not lose hope

we ask for connections
what is so blue or so green

in fall our pants will be cold
frost like a mouth



***

industrious well-to-do imported pigs are plotting

industrious well-to-do imported pigs are plotting
mean to outdo our local grey squirrels


***

Q: A chicken, tomato, and two slices of bread enter a room. What comes out?

Q: A chicken, tomato, and two slices of bread enter a room. Who comes out?

A: A lot of weird stuff I will never understand, unless I let go.


*

Stan and Voltaire

“God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.” — Voltaire

"There is a God out there, maybe you have to be silly every once in awhile to find him." - Stan


**

what if the annoyed island / ate all the tourists?

what if the annoyed island
ate all the tourists?

it might be called
fat bones island.

the trees would be
very green.

the mountains
mysteriously empty.

beaches with
white looking driftwood.



***

the river stole from the gods

the river stole from the gods
and she spoke to him loudly quite often

fall brought everything back taken
fondly she thought of everything that he completed




***

Have You Spoken To Dave?

it is what it is
and that is good
and that is what
it always is



**

Just Profit

another couple 100,000 dollars
is another couple 100,000 dollars
and i get that i get that


**

This Guy Over Here

few people do it
hire an inspector
to check their singing
magic house



*

Reprise

i read at least 15 pages a day
on events that would make you cry
sometime i think i should become
the devil to fight the devil



*

A Strong Storm Today

i read at least 15 pages a day
on events that would make you cry
being strong and wise takes its toll




**

The Right Discussion For That

i'm not overly honest on feast or famine
i don't want to suffer too much
or be frightening everyone all day




*

Manage That Last Relationship

there is unending support of my arguments
for me to win but that is not what i want

begrudgingly admit it is your own fault due to negativity
or sins from some past life's recycling bill



***

when i think of home

when i think of home

white walls and red tile roof
halfway up the hill with deer and quail

i remember the backyard deck
our dalmatians
who escaped if they could
into the christmas tree farm next door

three lawns to mow
the smell of wet hot grass
as i dumped out
the lawnmower bag in the garden

my mother scaring off the dogs
from digging in the corn with mousetraps
she got the snails
with small saucers of beer

the dogs would eat grapes off the vine
they'd sit under the vines
eat in the shade
i was the one that taught them

later friends would come over

i picked my room because i could see them
when they came up the street



***

Click Click

gold plated squirrel traps
don't catch rodents made of gold

but if you go looking
you may find a leak in the roof


**

Well There You Go

nobody has courtesy names
so we don't know who is who
in the office or on the street


**

Bang Around on Every Device

graciously he acted without grace
to prove it could be done

how lovelier the world would be
if we'd stop making fun of fun


**

a season of nothing will be brighter and happier than you will ever be

a season of nothing will be brighter and happier than you will ever be
so why do you say the stems are too long on these flowers
or the endless horizons are too far



***

Is This One

it is joels fault
it is your fault
it is literally my fault




*

I'm Listening and Thinking

thoughts and prayers
powered by hopes and dreams
and intentional cruelty



*

Did You Say 18 Months?

it just seems really strange
if that makes you feel
so much better


*

Uh ... Cat 5!

ha ha ha ha
bam bam bam bam
i'm just gonna say yes



*

Oh Yah

this door could be useful
turns out it blocks
installed the wrong way




*

We are Making Progress

all have various things
we regard not as a sin
to offer to other people



*

5% of Them Were 6 People on a Terrible Job

what dread i feel
on such a gentle level
one accustomed to it



*

The Conversation is Almost Inconceivable

i can find things
but if i do
i am telling lies



*

i dream everything makes sense

i dream everything makes sense
even you being gone
everything i lost

every question i wanted answered
every riddle for solving
plainly laid out

that was great and i thanked god
i thanked buddha and padmakara too
everyone was involved

i woke up and the feeling stayed
nothing is wrong everything in place
just as it should be

i was free of a load i've been carrying
the weight of thinking and knowing worry
understanding you'll find no answers

simple certainty stayed for many days
then slowly fades and i compare raindrops to raindrops

and i get back into hating you
and missing everything i think i lost

which motivates me in the end
to keep dreaming and making sense

dreaming the mountain the camp and the climbers

dreaming the mountain the camp and the climbers
perfect blue sky with no storms for climbing
one peak a shoulder the other my nose
time holds still if i move and proceeds when i'm still



8

desire is like a seed

desire is like a seed
every mind grows beyond it
if the consciousnesses will ever flower

heartbroken over
a saturday night call that was never made
my life just the thread in a cheap detective story





xxxxx

soaring heart/ clashing brain

soaring heart
clashing brain
and a mean little mind
inside called pride
who'd have you
store everything
keep it locked
till you die

so don't



***

some people i never stop thinking about

some people i never stop thinking about
like you & me then one day i forgot to remember
and i was and flew free like dandelion fluff




****

raindrops fall

raindrops fall
every one a worry

before as a child
each was a new joy

how the mind wanders
in a land of nothing

still i'm grateful
for each drop

resolve in this
to happier time

even grace

which is possible
if you decide



+

thoughts are the counterfeit bills of the mind

thoughts are the counterfeit bills of the mind

consciousness passing as much as it thinks

to give weight or credence to every fantasy

attaching valuation to what is brilliant space




**

every language is meant to be forgotten

every language is meant to be forgotten
once true contact is made

from words to inside the moment
on the feelings so fleeting

evening expansive night stars
swaying lanterns lit we are all family

then back to language as we must go
au revoir e saúdinha so long



**

reduce the words

reduce the words
until just the
outline remains
of fleeting memory
so it haunts
the letters


reduce
until the
outline
of memory
haunts
the letters


reduce
until
memory
haunts
letters


****

i am willing to subvert my mind with the deadliest of all poisons

i am willing to subvert my mind with the deadliest of all poisons
 a little bit everyday by reading the news

it does me no good but when you are dying of grasping and aversion
  you come to crave what is excoriating the soul


***

i go outside and meet my neighbor a rabbit

i go outside and meet my neighbor a rabbit
rabbit is rabbit all the time and is here just so
i am human & often other places in my mind

sitting in the grass he regards me as
i lay my hand on the gate and the rabbit is gone
soon i am too for my job down the road

rabbit doesn't have a name and neither do i
rabbit doesn't have a job and neither do i
i see rabbit and rabbit sees me



***

i pray to the flying buddhas

i pray to the flying buddhas

they look like jets

i pray to the jumping buddhas

they look like rabbits

i pray to the buddhas in every 

disguise they take on

even if a buddha answers to be

a bus driver or a bodhisattva

****

endlessly

approaching the second fathers day without my dad
i feel like a house half moved out of now moved out to 2/3

this is all i have i want more so i make more in my head
with planes in the afternoon soaring overhead through beautiful clouds

with sunshine on the clouds and on the planes beautifully shining
i am ignoring far flung gorgeousness with my rigorous denial of possibilities

me focusing on me and on my loss and my story not turning out the way i wanted
and not accepting loss which is not actually loss but is change

loss not being loss but discovery and evidence of the endless regeneration of the universe
that will seemingly bring us together and take us away but will also bring us together again

endlessly


***

Photo by Deborah Carmichael © 2019

go beyond everything

go beyond everything
even mind questioning
but how when
what does that mean?

even beyond this



**

every notion/ and prayer

every notion
and prayer

above us
below us

like sky
into water

reeds into
air

on my knees
i can see

how earth
sky meet



***

how many stars are in me?

how many stars are in me?
one million? a hundred million? a million million?
and i am unhappy about what someone said
or i choose to be pained by this day


**

is heart very far away?

is heart very far away?

no. only so far as me





-----

i'm a jigsaw puzzle / atoms from that star

i'm a jigsaw puzzle
atoms from that star
dust from another
pinch of that quasar
a handful of 1,000 others

god remembers all of them
plus remembers the beings
flora and fauna that basked
in those stars' light
each one every one

i'm built from minute
portions of all best hopes
dreams visions joys
desires that span great
gulfs of time be in me
and in you why we love

eye continues to delight
in new light breath
beneath a sky that seems
inexhaustible as beautiful
as it was before
and will always be

there's nothing common
to anything seen
to anything felt
to anything heard
or anything sacrificed
anything gained

nothing can be lost
everything starts again
each day contains
kaleidoscopes of
every noble urge
ready to be cherished


------

pick bicycle/ and be happy

pick bicycle
and be happy

ride with
your arms out

laugh ride
fly



----

spring
2019

i was thinking about you the other day

i was thinking about you the other day
how i thought i knew you and appreciated you
but i see that i was just assuming everything
because i miss you so much

your memory is tiny and excruciatingly bright
getting smaller and smaller every time i try
to make it big like a cathedral or a stupa
because i miss you so much

you would forbid me to go on with this
you'd laugh and say 'go make new friends' or 'keep having life'
it is what i would say to you if the roles were reverse
because i miss you so much


&&&

there is nothing like what i do

there is nothing like what i do
if i perform in a way intended
beyond any action or thought
like we admire light in the sky on clouds
or a bright lone star you cannot touch




@@@

noon

then i have no strength
thinking i am an idiot so are you
you can't stop me as well
i can't stop you but simply watch
as you do whatever you do
with hopefully the same compassion
i'd give myself

dazed i am in my ignorance
stunned i am in my presumption
insensible have i become in my views

night is here and
the garden is magnificent every songbird
and cricket and star put me in my place
everything i reasoned before was tired
and tied to whatever regular thinking
i could muster which becomes
totally exhausted

the mania of the mind a ruler broken
but still will resolve to measure a lens
distorted will propose a perfect open survey

finding resolve then
as a knowledgeable fool by
admission of my own plans mislaid
and not escaping identification nor
gathering you and saying you are so
then compassion is complete
the key found


***

i sailed a few times

i sailed a few times
these times have stayed with me
echoing over the rest of my life
goes to show anything i thought i wanted
strove for didn't matter to the guile and beguiling
underconciousness or primeval river


**


april 26

then other times

the time of death
is just a start of a new life

for you and for me
because i believe you are somewhere

like in a pureland
on a very nice tower w/ all your love

seeing me here
below your heart never forgetting

every little thing
and everything is no longer ordinary

*

then other times
the door is ajar the vista is empty

all paths lead up
you are nowhere and so am i

*

spring rain
wide fields and sky

here is my pulse
my eyes

my lasting memories
of you


***

for my father
4.22.19

just seeing

great labor

through the
geography of mind

life valleys
or mountains

climbed or
crossed in the

generating
consciousness

wandering
striving seeking

concluded with
victory of cessation

just seeing


-----

RWE
4.22

Gemma Augustea

to see it was to fill the mind with love
like a moonlit night visit to a garden of the gods and goddesses
or an impression of noon from high above the earth of perfect hue

for all our mural crowns and veils
cornucopia and realms of water floating Gaia worn and even weary
in ceasing struggle we find disposition gracefully through such a contest

at dusk it rained and there was still ice on the lake

at dusk it rained and there was still ice on the lake
a blue mist arose while the frozen water looked like stone
a grey slate

-----

Rice Lake

Behind

I wanted to buy bread and a few grams of milk. They said I was under in my hibernation hours, and the business they are running a strict one, they are saving the planet. I got a lot of nasty stares. I picked up my card and smiled at them.

"If I caught up on my hibernation hours, I'd get behind on my student loan payments."

They kept staring at me.

"Legally I'm required to pay my student loan, so I have to work and not hibernate. My stasis debt adds up. Because of this, I'm punished by not being able to buy food at your store. Then I have to travel to the government center to eat, and that takes time out of working."

"We don't care. You're burdening the roads, electrical infrastructure, and services because you are above your hibernation."

I shrugged.

"Why don't you pull in the same direction?"

I waved at them as I left.


****

Outside, the wind blew. I was cold. I had on a city jumpsuit, made of some kind of cheap duropaper, county shoes, a municipal jacket. The shoes smell, the jacket itches, the suit is a dirty white color with black marks on the elbows and knees. My clothing rental allowance was revoked. Replacement clothing, mandated, free. A felony to edit clothing, repair it, or alter it in any way. City, county, or municipality do not bother to supply underwear. Which is good, I suppose. The padded jacket never stops itching.

My hat is an heirloom, the only piece I posses, the only thing I own in this world. It is a 100 year old New York Yankees baseball cap.

I adjust the cap, and walk back to my hop. I roll up the metal door, showing my sleep niche set into the building wall, there is a fold out toilet, and retractable chair with tabletop and small dust screen. There is also a recessed storage drawer, and a small fridge full of nothing. It all takes up about 3 feet of sidewalk when opened. If you use the toilet, the whole world sees you go. At night you fold everything in, to avoid the wind and dust, and sleep with the vent in the metal door open.

Home sweet hop.

Dear __________,

June 11, 2046
(I think)

Dear __________,

The police know I am writing this, as it happens. They know everything nowadays, and they don't have to do anything to stop me.

They are waiting for me to fall asleep. Then they will come and stun me while I am unconscious, take me away, to whatever cryogenic prison. It may be years before they revive me, and I go on a quick secret trial and be executed.

No need to hide anything, or even confess here. They know when I fall asleep all my crimes will be laid bare, they will simply scan my mind, sift through billions of memories, use AI and algorithms to paint a picture of a thought criminal, having felony asocial attitudes, harboring deliberate creative thoughts with no socially redeeming values. They will measure how often I procrastinated, avoided being surveyed, pretended to fit in, pretended to agree.

I've been awake three days now, and I don't feel over tired for some reason. I may not feel a wall of fatigue because I know what will happen when I do close my eyes, it will be the end. It will be like dying. So I notice the little things, I appreciate my ordinary surroundings.

I rejoice that it is an unusually beautiful late afternoon. I think I've seen birds, or even butterflies playing but this is my imagination. Spring is here, and it might rain next week. I will never see you again. I thought that someday, despite how things are, we would be able to meet. Even if it affected your social score temporarily. But you need work and have so many people depending on you, and I would cost you too many points. We agreed in the past this was the reality. I thought in the end it would not bother me to not see you one last time. But I have been up for many days.

When I do fall asleep, I will dream about when you were born, and how the world was a different place than it is now. I will see hi rises without cameras, blue skies free of drones, and avenues without scanners. No checkpoints, no public humiliation broadcasts, no spontaneous crowd gathering shaming.  No fear of walking to fast, too slow, being too happy, or too sad. I will relive our home where you could lock your front door, own your own clothing, own books, or have pens and paper, and your ID wasn't printed on everything you are authorized to touch.

Crime does not exist anymore, the state made it non existent. People do not exist anymore, just compliant thinking objects. But this has become a diatribe, or a lecture.

**

The sun has set, and I can hear thousands of crickets. It is a timed recording of mine, all the crickets on Earth are extinct, just like every butterfly. I look around this apartment one last time, I bow to the crickets, I bow to the lingering light in the sky, I bow to the memory of you, I bow to the small red lights in the wall that record everything I say and do.

There was so much more I wanted to do for you, and for my life. If only I had acted with more courage, given more love, took more chances for what was right, this would not have happened. I am not certain, but it would not have hurt.

I will dream of you now, and be content with that. I look at what I have written, on this contraband paper, with this ancient pencil, and I see it is inadequate. I think of Pancho Villa who said to his compatriots: "It can't end this way! Tell them I said something!"

If only I had more to say! If only I was more than me in this room. If only there was more than just a feeling of distance and now heartbreak. But I come back to myself, and see we are all adequate. We are all outfitted to get through what is given to us. I am grateful now. I have no more to say. There is nothing to be said.

With anyone suffering or gone, still all was absolutely beautiful. Like this last moment, this night.


Yours,


__________________


****

Record no. 544 - E23// 656
Retrieved from the old internet, 2088
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