he is alone
on the beach
with a selfie-stick
going through the motions
digging in the sand
frolicking in the waves
sending pictures perhaps
to a woman far away
in halting
pantomime he moves
pacing out and redoing
one shot or another
getting the splat of a wave
against him how fun
how refreshing it is
see you soon
the choreography
becomes painful
the sun is hot for his dog
so he decides he has enough
with the phantom beguilement
he has spun
walks up the cliff
limping just a bit
when he is gone
i don’t know
if i should be angry
amused or afraid
the sun is the same
and so are the waves
his staggering dance
just holes in the sand
O
Monday, October 05, 2015
Friday, October 02, 2015
Poem - to break free of time through architecture (we arrive and depart unexpectedly)
we were beautiful and lived in the future
but the past caught up with us
like with everyone else who tries
to break free of time through architecture
because death is in every straight line
invested in every curve and plane
only apparent when time takes its toll
on the euclidean environments we erect
there is no rampart real or imaginary
bubble however perfect that will exclude
the gradual corrosion then final rush
into dissolution of all sensation and feeling
walls are like bookends and inside
the contents of life a story is bedded
any number of people are there to be seen
to grow up live love and die
who is watching and seeing some say God
others say the abyss no sight
the spaces heroically go up then decay
we arrive and depart unexpectedly
when we are not here there is a hush
like in a dream you might come back
look and say yes here was my table and chair
there was my window with the view
the moon or star rose and i was enthralled
*
but the past caught up with us
like with everyone else who tries
to break free of time through architecture
because death is in every straight line
invested in every curve and plane
only apparent when time takes its toll
on the euclidean environments we erect
there is no rampart real or imaginary
bubble however perfect that will exclude
the gradual corrosion then final rush
into dissolution of all sensation and feeling
walls are like bookends and inside
the contents of life a story is bedded
any number of people are there to be seen
to grow up live love and die
who is watching and seeing some say God
others say the abyss no sight
the spaces heroically go up then decay
we arrive and depart unexpectedly
when we are not here there is a hush
like in a dream you might come back
look and say yes here was my table and chair
there was my window with the view
the moon or star rose and i was enthralled
*
Monday, September 28, 2015
Going Back to The Tomb of the HMO
I think, if a tomb is designed right, people will come by and see it and be your friend -- even though they never met you.
I go to the cemetery where there is a tomb that looks like a small office building. The guy who built it was the in business of HMOs. He perfected the concept, promoted it, was joyful in it. His tomb is made of grey marble, and there is a glass door to a small office, with two chairs and a television hooked to a DVD player. It looks like there has been no presentation for a long time. There are a few signed art prints on the wall, under glass, done in a tasteful LA style from the late 1990s, they are very expensive. Opposite the office there is a glass wall and a marble room with two stone covered protrusions that remind me of boobs or a pair of photon torpedo tubes from a science fiction movie.
This is where the caskets are implied -- one end of the casket, hanging about a foot and a half over a slate colored stone floor for all eternity. The other 75% of the casket is set into a slanting wall. I wonder if it is their feet or their heads, poking out of the wall. Part of me says 'feet' and the other part of me says 'heads'. No way of knowing, unless you want to get in there and crack open those torpedo tubes of eternity to see.
Everytime I see the tomb, I always leave feeling Death and Business are spectacular. When you combine the two realities in a tomb, I feel so morbid, I am amazed. I look at the architecture, and I want to work there, and cry at the same time. I am like a ghoul with a resume. I see my own death in a very nice silver suit, made in Italy. And I look good. That is what has got me coming back to The Tomb of the HMO.
The view is pretty good too -- you can see Catalina Island on a clear day.
*
Pacific View Cemetery
Newport Beach, CA
I go to the cemetery where there is a tomb that looks like a small office building. The guy who built it was the in business of HMOs. He perfected the concept, promoted it, was joyful in it. His tomb is made of grey marble, and there is a glass door to a small office, with two chairs and a television hooked to a DVD player. It looks like there has been no presentation for a long time. There are a few signed art prints on the wall, under glass, done in a tasteful LA style from the late 1990s, they are very expensive. Opposite the office there is a glass wall and a marble room with two stone covered protrusions that remind me of boobs or a pair of photon torpedo tubes from a science fiction movie.
This is where the caskets are implied -- one end of the casket, hanging about a foot and a half over a slate colored stone floor for all eternity. The other 75% of the casket is set into a slanting wall. I wonder if it is their feet or their heads, poking out of the wall. Part of me says 'feet' and the other part of me says 'heads'. No way of knowing, unless you want to get in there and crack open those torpedo tubes of eternity to see.
Everytime I see the tomb, I always leave feeling Death and Business are spectacular. When you combine the two realities in a tomb, I feel so morbid, I am amazed. I look at the architecture, and I want to work there, and cry at the same time. I am like a ghoul with a resume. I see my own death in a very nice silver suit, made in Italy. And I look good. That is what has got me coming back to The Tomb of the HMO.
The view is pretty good too -- you can see Catalina Island on a clear day.
*
Pacific View Cemetery
Newport Beach, CA
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Poem - 3 AM
there is nobody here
but us and the freeway
the diner never closes
the flies never sleep
no local food no sleep
tables being disintegrated
one meal at a time
we've got to get to LA
or vegas right away
like you'll die trying
but which town
should we go to
we flip a coin
*
but us and the freeway
the diner never closes
the flies never sleep
no local food no sleep
tables being disintegrated
one meal at a time
we've got to get to LA
or vegas right away
like you'll die trying
but which town
should we go to
we flip a coin
*
Poem - tooto hytho aliang trumo
to hide what i meant
i wrote in code
i wrote of love
i wrote of insecurities
this was a year or so ago
i have lost the key
all i have is the cryptography
and no meaning
the notes saying like
queto meego beeto tryug
sheddo skapso filgo eum
hyrida zeeto soggum palo
eenugo ummins chan so fa
and
tooto hytho aliang trumo
saang whythe erago turmpin
meeps frang tragral solom
baatch egrim tentro glama
i keep the papers
and someday i might make sense
of why i had to hide
me from anything
*
i wrote in code
i wrote of love
i wrote of insecurities
this was a year or so ago
i have lost the key
all i have is the cryptography
and no meaning
the notes saying like
queto meego beeto tryug
sheddo skapso filgo eum
hyrida zeeto soggum palo
eenugo ummins chan so fa
and
tooto hytho aliang trumo
saang whythe erago turmpin
meeps frang tragral solom
baatch egrim tentro glama
i keep the papers
and someday i might make sense
of why i had to hide
me from anything
*
Poem - ( i take the picture anyways )
i can't take 'a selfie'
because when i see myself
i immediately suspect my own face
as that of a character
a criminal or suspect
not of anything heinous
but yet complacent of
abetting the most stupid of things
capable of threadbare excuses
and yawning laziness
transmitted through
words
(i take the picture
anyways)
because when i see myself
i immediately suspect my own face
as that of a character
a criminal or suspect
not of anything heinous
but yet complacent of
abetting the most stupid of things
capable of threadbare excuses
and yawning laziness
transmitted through
words
(i take the picture
anyways)
Poem - let me make you / something / to eat
when a child cries
in the middle of the night
i get up first
this is how i am
cooking and washing dishes
doing the laundry
a kind of monster
i suppose
what happens when men
become gracious or helpful
the whole world
could end
or when women
no longer have to figure
a way out so as
not to impose
nor be a slave
*
but back to now
are you hungry or tired
let me make you
something
to eat
**
in the middle of the night
i get up first
this is how i am
cooking and washing dishes
doing the laundry
a kind of monster
i suppose
what happens when men
become gracious or helpful
the whole world
could end
or when women
no longer have to figure
a way out so as
not to impose
nor be a slave
*
but back to now
are you hungry or tired
let me make you
something
to eat
**
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Sir Francis Drake and the Spanish Galleon Chorizo
In Bodega Bay, on a bright summer morning, I take my son Danny treasure hunting. Along the way I am able to teach him a few things.
1) Treasure can be ANYWHERE, you never know where it might by laying, and how!
2) Pirates were hiding treasure all over the place because of leaky boats and navigational errors in the swashbuckling days before GPS and iPhones.
3) When treasure hunting for buccaneer spoils, you must shout “AH HA!” and point dramatically from time to time. This is to keep all treasure hunters on their toes, and show places that could be significant — like a clue.
With these things explained, we are well underway, going down the road to the beach. Neat vacation houses give way to breezy vistas, hills going gently down where you can see Bodega Bay and the water glittering in the sun.
“Dad, what is sawshuckling?” asks Danny.
“Swashbuckling? That is a fancy word for dancing — pirates love to dance like maniacs before they attack.” I tell him, and I show him a few of their moves.
“It looks like karate.”
“Sure — Pirate Karate!”
We are passing the last part of the golf couse before we start on the trail down the bluffs.
“AH HA!” I shout and pick up a rock.
“What is it!”
“This rock is exactly the size and shape of the Star of Peru!”
“It is?”
“The Star of Peru is a fabulous diamond that drove sultans and emperors mad!”
“It is?”
“Of course! Didn’t you know Sir Francis Drake came here — he had three captured Spanish galleons groaning with treasure raided from the Spanish Empire? One was the galleon Chorizo — it was leaky and damaged from a storm Sir Francis Drake weathered, escaping from the Spanish warships sent from Cuba to intercept him.”
“He did?”
“Yes! Sir Francis Drake made landfall, and decided to unload the leaking Chorizo and bury silver plate and pieces of eight, gems and silk and pirate gold, somewhere around the beach and bluffs!”
“Wow!”
“And it has lain here waiting to be found, because Sir Francis Drake never returned!”
“AH HA!” shouts Danny.
“You bet! Keep your eyes open!”
We walk on the beach, drag seaweed on the sand and climb rocks. Danny finds a great stick that is a sword. Dogs run by, we explore tide pools.
“We must be getting close!” I yell.
“How do you know, Dad?”
“We are treasure hunting! When you are treasure hunting, you have hunches. I can feel it!”
AH HA! In a remote section of the beach, we find a cave, blackened by smoke from campfires. It is just big enough for a few people to sit in it. Danny and I see how far it goes back — back far enough where you have to crawl, and have a flashlight. We sit inside the cave, and look out.
“Do you think Sir Francis Drake found this cave?” ask Danny, very seriously.
“Of course he did.” I say. “But he didn’t bury the treasure here.”
“Why?”
“This cave too small!”
We exit the cave and I tell Danny about the adventures of Sir Francis Drake, and how he circumnavigated the globe. After building a sand castle, we get hungry and decide to go back to the house.
“Did you have fun looking for treasure?” I ask Danny.
“AH HA!” shouts Danny.
On the first day of third grade, Danny brought the rock we found that is just like the Star of Peru, and shared what he did during summer vacation. Now his classmates are interested in searching for pirate treasure in Corona Del Mar.
Because when you are looking for treasure, you can find it just about anywhere.
1) Treasure can be ANYWHERE, you never know where it might by laying, and how!
2) Pirates were hiding treasure all over the place because of leaky boats and navigational errors in the swashbuckling days before GPS and iPhones.
3) When treasure hunting for buccaneer spoils, you must shout “AH HA!” and point dramatically from time to time. This is to keep all treasure hunters on their toes, and show places that could be significant — like a clue.
With these things explained, we are well underway, going down the road to the beach. Neat vacation houses give way to breezy vistas, hills going gently down where you can see Bodega Bay and the water glittering in the sun.
“Dad, what is sawshuckling?” asks Danny.
“Swashbuckling? That is a fancy word for dancing — pirates love to dance like maniacs before they attack.” I tell him, and I show him a few of their moves.
“It looks like karate.”
“Sure — Pirate Karate!”
We are passing the last part of the golf couse before we start on the trail down the bluffs.
“AH HA!” I shout and pick up a rock.
“What is it!”
“This rock is exactly the size and shape of the Star of Peru!”
“It is?”
“The Star of Peru is a fabulous diamond that drove sultans and emperors mad!”
“It is?”
“Of course! Didn’t you know Sir Francis Drake came here — he had three captured Spanish galleons groaning with treasure raided from the Spanish Empire? One was the galleon Chorizo — it was leaky and damaged from a storm Sir Francis Drake weathered, escaping from the Spanish warships sent from Cuba to intercept him.”
“He did?”
“Yes! Sir Francis Drake made landfall, and decided to unload the leaking Chorizo and bury silver plate and pieces of eight, gems and silk and pirate gold, somewhere around the beach and bluffs!”
“Wow!”
“And it has lain here waiting to be found, because Sir Francis Drake never returned!”
“AH HA!” shouts Danny.
“You bet! Keep your eyes open!”
We walk on the beach, drag seaweed on the sand and climb rocks. Danny finds a great stick that is a sword. Dogs run by, we explore tide pools.
“We must be getting close!” I yell.
“How do you know, Dad?”
“We are treasure hunting! When you are treasure hunting, you have hunches. I can feel it!”
AH HA! In a remote section of the beach, we find a cave, blackened by smoke from campfires. It is just big enough for a few people to sit in it. Danny and I see how far it goes back — back far enough where you have to crawl, and have a flashlight. We sit inside the cave, and look out.
“Do you think Sir Francis Drake found this cave?” ask Danny, very seriously.
“Of course he did.” I say. “But he didn’t bury the treasure here.”
“Why?”
“This cave too small!”
We exit the cave and I tell Danny about the adventures of Sir Francis Drake, and how he circumnavigated the globe. After building a sand castle, we get hungry and decide to go back to the house.
“Did you have fun looking for treasure?” I ask Danny.
“AH HA!” shouts Danny.
On the first day of third grade, Danny brought the rock we found that is just like the Star of Peru, and shared what he did during summer vacation. Now his classmates are interested in searching for pirate treasure in Corona Del Mar.
Because when you are looking for treasure, you can find it just about anywhere.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Poem - years ago / you were flying away from me / in a toy spaceship
years ago
you were flying away from me
in a toy spaceship
the ride
we all had one
it would turn us in circles
you were in front
time goes
and you go too
still flying away from me
and time
reminds me of being
like a toy spaceship
each body
going around and around
some go before others after
it is all we can do
free will as real as the
illusion the rockets fly
but then i don't know
time goes
and you go too
still flying away from me
*
you were flying away from me
in a toy spaceship
the ride
we all had one
it would turn us in circles
you were in front
time goes
and you go too
still flying away from me
and time
reminds me of being
like a toy spaceship
each body
going around and around
some go before others after
it is all we can do
free will as real as the
illusion the rockets fly
but then i don't know
time goes
and you go too
still flying away from me
*
I Put Band-Aids Over My Eyes Today
I put band-aids over my eyelids today. They are very comfortable. I listen to Johnny Cash sing a song that goes "As long as the grass shall grow..." The backup singers are very lyrical. He's singing about something horrible, betrayal, but the backup singers sound cheerful.
*
HB
Sept 2015
*
HB
Sept 2015
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Poem - the opposite of faith / is not fear
the opposite for faith
is not fear
it is faithlessness
and we do not have it
cast into a human shape
the form is faith
you can heave great doubt
or fear and still have faith
in fact there is a thing
called 'holy doubt'
it prods me to know
my faith
to discard superstitious
or magical thinking
to find the higher power
as i evolve
because as i revolutionize
the higher power does too
and i must keep re-
finding it
any static god
is not god
i follow what has
barely been touched
by books
i have found it
through action
it is experienced
right now absolutely
deathless
beyond suffering
joyful
and aware
*
is not fear
it is faithlessness
and we do not have it
cast into a human shape
the form is faith
you can heave great doubt
or fear and still have faith
in fact there is a thing
called 'holy doubt'
it prods me to know
my faith
to discard superstitious
or magical thinking
to find the higher power
as i evolve
because as i revolutionize
the higher power does too
and i must keep re-
finding it
any static god
is not god
i follow what has
barely been touched
by books
i have found it
through action
it is experienced
right now absolutely
deathless
beyond suffering
joyful
and aware
*
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Poem - how i wish i could remember / we don't always need to know
i dream of perfect worlds
where there is no sin nor fall from grace
i wake up and they dissolve
how i wish i could hold onto them
but i am conscious now
of how we can create a billion things
i hear myself praying in the dark
dedicating my life and everything too
because i am alive and day is starting
*
9.15.2015
where there is no sin nor fall from grace
i wake up and they dissolve
how i wish i could hold onto them
but i am conscious now
of how we can create a billion things
i hear myself praying in the dark
dedicating my life and everything too
because i am alive and day is starting
*
9.15.2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
Poem - by the same old liar
i wondered about it
then i didn't wonder about it
not thinking was not an answer
it just happened
like noticing particles of dust
in a sunbeam
or realizing you just woke up
to reality
a break from the customary
conversation of moods
now inner babble shown as
false predictions of some future
by the same old liar
*
then i didn't wonder about it
not thinking was not an answer
it just happened
like noticing particles of dust
in a sunbeam
or realizing you just woke up
to reality
a break from the customary
conversation of moods
now inner babble shown as
false predictions of some future
by the same old liar
*
Poem - i don't mark time
i don't mark time
if i exhaust the horror
of possibly dying
i don't get by
if i can really let go
completely
i can be here forever
if i stay centered
in the moment
i will have no fear
if i buff off my own
bullshit
clarity is its own
comfort
dedication
too
**
if i exhaust the horror
of possibly dying
i don't get by
if i can really let go
completely
i can be here forever
if i stay centered
in the moment
i will have no fear
if i buff off my own
bullshit
clarity is its own
comfort
dedication
too
**
Poem - it hurts
they are gone there are no tears
only a dislocation
or something painful
fear or despair
just like that in the heart that loved
so smoothly and
automatically before
it hurts
*
9.14.15
only a dislocation
or something painful
fear or despair
just like that in the heart that loved
so smoothly and
automatically before
it hurts
*
9.14.15
Thursday, September 10, 2015
006. Playing the Anachronistic Social Game with the Director
The Director is here, smiling, nodding.
"Hello men!"
"Hello there."
We wait.
The director looks at the dogeared papers, the battered books, the map, the small lead figures, the small rocks we are using to keep everything from blowing away. "And what are you men doing today here?"
"We are playing a game."
"Oh!"
"Yes, a game from our youth."
"Really!"
We wait.
"And how is it? How is it done?" asks the Director, blissfully unaware.
“It is a game based of social interactions while playing a persona in an anachronistic period of time, related somewhat to the Middle of the 1200s AD.”
"Hello men!"
"Hello there."
We wait.
The director looks at the dogeared papers, the battered books, the map, the small lead figures, the small rocks we are using to keep everything from blowing away. "And what are you men doing today here?"
"We are playing a game."
"Oh!"
"Yes, a game from our youth."
"Really!"
We wait.
"And how is it? How is it done?" asks the Director, blissfully unaware.
“It is a game based of social interactions while playing a persona in an anachronistic period of time, related somewhat to the Middle of the 1200s AD.”
“Oh! Using papers.”
"Yes."
"And those small things?"
"Metal figures on a map simulation."
"And those things?"
"Dice."
"Manual random number generators!" yells Terry, starting the Director. Nick shushes at him.
"How intriguing!"
"Yes."
"And those small things?"
"Metal figures on a map simulation."
"And those things?"
"Dice."
"Manual random number generators!" yells Terry, starting the Director. Nick shushes at him.
"How intriguing!"
We sit there for minute, but he does not leave. I see Terry is wanting to say something, possibly explode into profanity, but he does not.
“Everyone has their own unique persona, based off a series of statistics.”
“Interesting! In the interest of the community, for understanding, to be connected, I shall participate." the Director sits down.
He remains, smiling, utterly content. Terry is holding back profanity, his face a bit purple.
“Then .... I will assign you a persona!" I shuffle papers. "You will be playing a rouge”
“Oh! How fascinating. What is a “rouge”?”
Nick sighs and looks at the sky.
“A rouge is – never mind.” I look though the old papers. “You will be playing a priest.”
“Priest?”
“Yes a religious authority. Someone who dispenses a religion.”
“Fascinating!”
“Isn’t it!”
"Can I be a monotheist? A monotheistic Priest?
"Absolutely. So now you are in the wilderness.”
"Wait!" says Terry. "I think he has to be a pagan priest."
"Aw." says the Director.
"OK -- we are in the WILDERNESS!" I shout.
"Can I be a monotheist? A monotheistic Priest?
"Absolutely. So now you are in the wilderness.”
"Wait!" says Terry. "I think he has to be a pagan priest."
"Aw." says the Director.
"OK -- we are in the WILDERNESS!" I shout.
“And why are we there?”
“You are part of a party of several adventurers who have traveled many weeks to get to this place.” growls Terry.
“And why are we here?”
“Rumored nearby is a magnificent tomb, filled with treasure, and also peril.”
“And why are we here, exactly?”
“To find the treasure.”
“And whose treasure is this, lawfully?” he gets very serious.
“Nobodies! I mean, the person who this treasure is, is dead. And their family is dead. And the local municipality and governing authorities in the area immediate and adjacent have no interest in it. It is not part of the meta economy, nor the macro algorithmic projections for the “good of all”.”
“So strange!”
“It is a game.”
“Ah!”
“So shall we continue?”
He rubs his hand together, “Please do! I think I am getting the Nag of this.”
“Nag?”
“Getting the Nag, yes.”
“You mean getting the HANG of this. Anyways, your party breaks camp and proceeds down the valley.” I pretend to roll a dice behind the screen. “There you encounter five brigands.”
“Brigands?”
“Socially irresponsible young people who take things from others without permission.” Growls Nick.
“Ah!”
We sit there for a bit, the Director smiling, the sun shining.
“So now you choose to do something, to interact with them.”
“Well! I give them a – a --- a stern lecture!”
I have never seen the Director so excited. He is beside himself, bouncing up and down just a bit, and he plants his elbows on the table. A few of the figures fall over, but he does not notice
“Ok.”
The Director waves his arms in the air. “I lecture them to convince them of the harmfulness to themselves, and others, by using those actions that take things from others without permission! I tell them about the greater social good!”
Terry stares. Even Nick is taken aback.
I pretend to roll a dice again.
“The brigands are moved by your oration and decide to give up their life of crime. They depart.”
I start packing up the board and game pieces.
“Well, that’s it!”
“Really!”
“Oh, yes! You won.”
“Fastest we’ve ever seen!” says Terry.
“All done! Thanks!”
The director gets up, still a bit giddy. “Well, I do have to say, that was very enjoyable.”
“Well done!”
“My, I will have to come back and play the anachronistic social game again some other time.”
“Aw shucks!” says Terry, turning purple.
“Well, then, I will see you later.”
Off the Director goes, sufficed with goodwill and joy to all.
"It's like he just got banged really good for the first time in his life." says Nick.
We wait until he is out of sight. I take the map and the dice out again.
"OK -- where were we?"
"Brigands" says Terry. "I take put my bow and fire two arrows."
"I cast "fireball" at the biggest brigand and back up between the two fighters."
"Men at arms advance." says Montesquieu.
Rengszal Retirement Village
formerly Palo Alto, CA
August, 2055
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Poem - a floating card
a floating card
lit from above
with smoke curling below
behind pitch blackness
the card is the ace
of diamonds while in dreams
it means nothing and everything
*
you die
and your family
who knows no one here
swoop in and claim every bit of you
mementos they
rather not have they throw in the trash
or burn so it is all sealed
*
rage
*
it has always been
this way
_
lit from above
with smoke curling below
behind pitch blackness
the card is the ace
of diamonds while in dreams
it means nothing and everything
*
you die
and your family
who knows no one here
swoop in and claim every bit of you
mementos they
rather not have they throw in the trash
or burn so it is all sealed
*
rage
*
it has always been
this way
_
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
A Poem for Douglas
this was when i lived in a huge house
and you pretended to swallow your arm
as we sat on the patio at night
filming this was your new bride
your video face and shoulders lit brilliant
we had a fire nearby that i kept stoked
animated you are and happy even sly
won over totally by new love
i found the mini DV tape the other day
both of us are divorced and someone else
lives in that house with the pool
and the manicured backyard
i regret some things and not others
more is not seeing you for many years
and how we are friends now separated
and how delightful you were to your new wife
9.01.15
and you pretended to swallow your arm
as we sat on the patio at night
filming this was your new bride
your video face and shoulders lit brilliant
we had a fire nearby that i kept stoked
animated you are and happy even sly
won over totally by new love
i found the mini DV tape the other day
both of us are divorced and someone else
lives in that house with the pool
and the manicured backyard
i regret some things and not others
more is not seeing you for many years
and how we are friends now separated
and how delightful you were to your new wife
9.01.15
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Poem - when i first saw you in the room next door
i
when i first saw you in the room next door
i noticed you looked exactly like the picture i kept seeing of you
as you sat on the small bed i almost was afraid
you were a hologram or dream that would vanish if i made a noise
i wondered if someone was in there -- in you or me
if i was a hologram or a dream that would vanish if you made a noise
i wondered if i would look like a picture of me
if you kept seeing it over and over again in the next room
ii
i gave you a small rock and said
it was a wish fulfilling jewel
a stone of pure dharmakaya
that though ordinary in appearance
was an expression of infinite
purity beyond all compare
you smiled
--- - --
8.23.15
for Bhakha Tulku Rinpoche
when i first saw you in the room next door
i noticed you looked exactly like the picture i kept seeing of you
as you sat on the small bed i almost was afraid
you were a hologram or dream that would vanish if i made a noise
i wondered if someone was in there -- in you or me
if i was a hologram or a dream that would vanish if you made a noise
i wondered if i would look like a picture of me
if you kept seeing it over and over again in the next room
ii
i gave you a small rock and said
it was a wish fulfilling jewel
a stone of pure dharmakaya
that though ordinary in appearance
was an expression of infinite
purity beyond all compare
you smiled
--- - --
8.23.15
for Bhakha Tulku Rinpoche
Sunday, August 09, 2015
Poem - in the room looking at you smiling
moving through the unavoidable tears
we end up at a party surrounded by wonderful balloons
the table is set and all we have to do is enjoy
not go down the back stairs to the sticky payphone
and ask to get picked up and dragged back into the night
that will never be knowable and ever end
thus i steady on the path
not cocky nor afraid but my eyes to here
in the room looking at you smiling
*
we end up at a party surrounded by wonderful balloons
the table is set and all we have to do is enjoy
not go down the back stairs to the sticky payphone
and ask to get picked up and dragged back into the night
that will never be knowable and ever end
thus i steady on the path
not cocky nor afraid but my eyes to here
in the room looking at you smiling
*
Monday, July 20, 2015
Poem - on a martian autumn day / we will play cards
on a martian autumn day
we will play cards
and see how the garden
is doing the trees
imitating the waves of
amber from earth
we will talk about
how the travel has changed us
being reborn through
the long dark journey
before us we look
into the belts of jupiter
we look to the next
star with where to go
*
we will play cards
and see how the garden
is doing the trees
imitating the waves of
amber from earth
we will talk about
how the travel has changed us
being reborn through
the long dark journey
before us we look
into the belts of jupiter
we look to the next
star with where to go
*
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Poem - her name is kuntozangmo / the primeval mother
i met the source
of all time and space
her name is kuntozangmo
the primeval mother
she looked like pamela anderson
and
as she talked
her body would flow in and out
of her own mouth
she reclined on a nice couch
i sat by her
she smiled at me
with some fine wrinkles around her eyes
she showed me
how nothing external has any fixed characteristics
by demonstrating a host of objects
places and things dissolving and changing at great speed
in the sky above us like they were fireworks almost or splendid illusions
i said but people have fixed
characteristics
she said no they don't
even people have no fixed characteristics
she smiled sweetly
and i felt better
___
for Jñana
of all time and space
her name is kuntozangmo
the primeval mother
she looked like pamela anderson
and
as she talked
her body would flow in and out
of her own mouth
she reclined on a nice couch
i sat by her
she smiled at me
with some fine wrinkles around her eyes
she showed me
how nothing external has any fixed characteristics
by demonstrating a host of objects
places and things dissolving and changing at great speed
in the sky above us like they were fireworks almost or splendid illusions
i said but people have fixed
characteristics
she said no they don't
even people have no fixed characteristics
she smiled sweetly
and i felt better
___
for Jñana
Poem - how would i like it to be
we are not required to be kind
or be present to one another
there is no penalty
other than what i deny to you
will be scarcely
rendered to me when i ask
starvation is my curse
for not giving sustenance
when i had it
faithlessness is my lot
when i did not encourage
as others wavered
aimlessness is my path
when i decided to wait
on the way
inescapable fact
there was never a time
i could not give
it only takes effort
to love or hate
how would i like it to be
*
or be present to one another
there is no penalty
other than what i deny to you
will be scarcely
rendered to me when i ask
starvation is my curse
for not giving sustenance
when i had it
faithlessness is my lot
when i did not encourage
as others wavered
aimlessness is my path
when i decided to wait
on the way
inescapable fact
there was never a time
i could not give
it only takes effort
to love or hate
how would i like it to be
*
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Poem - all i have to do / is to look for it
if my heart is as small
i will cry and i will lament
i will find things
causes and conditions
i have done this
i said i live in a ruin
or a joke or a void
i said tomorrow
will be a better day
when all true purity
is only in now
right now
i put my glasses on backwards
and decided i was broken
i did this to me
you have nothing
to do with it
*
i have the key
the solution
to leave misery
it is in my mind
it is in your
mind too
all i have to do
is to look for it
and not stop
---
for e
i will cry and i will lament
i will find things
causes and conditions
i have done this
i said i live in a ruin
or a joke or a void
i said tomorrow
will be a better day
when all true purity
is only in now
right now
i put my glasses on backwards
and decided i was broken
i did this to me
you have nothing
to do with it
*
i have the key
the solution
to leave misery
it is in my mind
it is in your
mind too
all i have to do
is to look for it
and not stop
---
for e
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Poem - i need a frame for your picture
i need a frame for your picture
the portrait it is here on the blanket
that covers part of my desk
red and white stripes
a rustic fabric
like the zen you wore
when i met you and had no idea
anything could ever
separate us
*
For Tesdrup Tharchin
Poem - i face the ocean always on the ocean's terms
i face the ocean always on the ocean's terms
the sea's mood is automatically mine
standing on the sand at lowest tide
before whole day has arisen
looking back the beach rises sharply
i can see just the tops of the houses
mansion and structures the sea will erase
there is no staying here how hard
or for how long you swear you'd like
8
Station 12
Sunset Beach
July 2015
the sea's mood is automatically mine
standing on the sand at lowest tide
before whole day has arisen
looking back the beach rises sharply
i can see just the tops of the houses
mansion and structures the sea will erase
there is no staying here how hard
or for how long you swear you'd like
8
Station 12
Sunset Beach
July 2015
Poem - by those liberated from fury
in deference if i meet you in a dream
i solemnly acknowledge you
awake i pretend i do not worry
or even think how precious you are
this is what i have been taught
by proper cowards
by those consumed by loss
*
change and the arising is constant
of a consciousness that challenges
the dread monotony of assumptions
where even selfish fear has no hold
this is what i have been taught
by proper teachers
by those liberated from fury
--
July 14 2015
i solemnly acknowledge you
awake i pretend i do not worry
or even think how precious you are
this is what i have been taught
by proper cowards
by those consumed by loss
*
change and the arising is constant
of a consciousness that challenges
the dread monotony of assumptions
where even selfish fear has no hold
this is what i have been taught
by proper teachers
by those liberated from fury
--
July 14 2015
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Poem - on the second floor of a rambling victorian house - this means we are family
i had a dream i was sleeping
on the second floor of a rambling victorian house
that was painted white inside with brown carpet
it was gracefully falling apart
due to age and use
the rooms were bright and bare
with the expected scrollwork and wood details
smothered under many layers of paint as to hint
on how crisp the lines of sleeping shells and pearls
and other rambunctious seagifts clustered around ceiling
say where a gas jet chandelier used to hang
yellow gaslight through frosted cups long gone
the dream beds were made of bread
that had just been baked so i poked a hole
in the center of the mattress to get comfortable
and I lay down under a comforter
I looked at the second floor of the house
which creaked from time to time
as the creatures that lived there moved about
half book and half salmon emanations
who had their own culture
and shiny supple sayings
as I thought this one came upstairs and saw me
did a double-take asked who i was
i said we were in a dream and i was part of it
so the creature exclaimed good, as odd as that is
this means we are family
*
on the second floor of a rambling victorian house
that was painted white inside with brown carpet
it was gracefully falling apart
due to age and use
the rooms were bright and bare
with the expected scrollwork and wood details
smothered under many layers of paint as to hint
on how crisp the lines of sleeping shells and pearls
and other rambunctious seagifts clustered around ceiling
say where a gas jet chandelier used to hang
yellow gaslight through frosted cups long gone
the dream beds were made of bread
that had just been baked so i poked a hole
in the center of the mattress to get comfortable
and I lay down under a comforter
I looked at the second floor of the house
which creaked from time to time
as the creatures that lived there moved about
half book and half salmon emanations
who had their own culture
and shiny supple sayings
as I thought this one came upstairs and saw me
did a double-take asked who i was
i said we were in a dream and i was part of it
so the creature exclaimed good, as odd as that is
this means we are family
*
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Poem - i'm only angry if i think i'm someone
i'm only angry if i think i'm someone
who had something to be angry about
and it was happening for real
in a dream
and i was the center of attention in the dream
and whatever happened was important
like a prize of a hundred singing harmonica fish
*
for Eeek
who had something to be angry about
and it was happening for real
in a dream
and i was the center of attention in the dream
and whatever happened was important
like a prize of a hundred singing harmonica fish
*
for Eeek
Poem - i can sometimes watch people
i can sometimes watch people
moving to and fro
over the scenery like patterns
colorful and gliding along
charming
or like leaves suspended in water
or even fish in a tank
or just quirky emanations
like sparks from a stone
or another mythic caesura
*
for Eeek
moving to and fro
over the scenery like patterns
colorful and gliding along
charming
or like leaves suspended in water
or even fish in a tank
or just quirky emanations
like sparks from a stone
or another mythic caesura
*
for Eeek
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
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
[
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
[
Friday, June 19, 2015
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
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
Monday, June 08, 2015
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
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
Friday, May 22, 2015
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.
― 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
*
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
*
Monday, May 18, 2015
Poem - he put a poem on twitter
he put a poem on twitter
it ran away like a little animal
and had fun
\
it ran away like a little animal
and had fun
\
Thursday, May 14, 2015
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
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
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
Wednesday, May 06, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
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
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
Thursday, April 02, 2015
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
*
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
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
Wednesday, April 01, 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
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
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
Friday, March 27, 2015
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
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
*
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
*
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
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
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
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
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
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
Monday, March 02, 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
*
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
*
whatever it was is still before us
in plain sights
for whatever reason
we simply refuse to see it
*
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
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
*
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
*
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
*
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
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
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
*
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
*
Thursday, February 12, 2015
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 vÃznar
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
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 vÃznar
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
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
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
*
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
*
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
- - - -
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
- - - -
Thursday, February 05, 2015
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
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
Tuesday, February 03, 2015
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
*
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
*
Monday, February 02, 2015
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
*
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
*
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
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
Tuesday, January 27, 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
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
Monday, January 26, 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
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
*
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
*
Friday, January 23, 2015
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
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?
*
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.
**
*
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.
*
*
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
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 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
Monday, January 19, 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
"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
Thursday, January 15, 2015
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
*
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
*
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
*
Monday, January 12, 2015
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
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
Sunday, January 11, 2015
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
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
**
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
**
Friday, January 09, 2015
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
*
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
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
Wednesday, January 07, 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
**
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
**
Tuesday, January 06, 2015
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
*
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
*
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
*
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
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
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
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
Monday, December 29, 2014
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
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
Friday, December 19, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, December 05, 2014
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
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
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
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.
__
__
Monday, December 01, 2014
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
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.
----
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
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
Tuesday, November 25, 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
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.
*
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.
*
Thursday, November 20, 2014
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.
*
I thought about this for about an hour, I think.
*
Tuesday, November 04, 2014
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
*
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
*
Monday, November 03, 2014
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
*
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
*
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
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
**
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
**
Monday, October 20, 2014
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
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
Friday, October 17, 2014
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
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
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