New Years Eve 2006

The artist’s studio was rather blasé.
Just another day for starving artists.
I got my painting and ordered another…
Went home to eat, drink and be merry
If possible. Just another night for a
Homeless Buddhist. Practice evens things,
Shaves the hair off my ego…though it
Always seems to grow back quick enough.

There will be bombs at midnight...
Celebration bombs of delight.

Here in the cockpit in front of the
Keyboard…all the instruments are
Glowing green…it’s a go, at least
for now. I’ll never find anyone to
love me as much as she does…she
gets me like no one does. My
daughter gets me too…we’ve come
to an understanding of each other’s
lives that leaves room for love.

There will be bombs at midnight…
Bombs of flowers and delight.

Another year, another day, another life.
Time is a relative we
Can’t forget for a moment. That’s why
There are so many occasions…to parcel
Out infinity in digestible increments.
If Monday never came, we couldn’t look
Forward to Friday…and what would that
Do to Saturday? Time would train wreck.

There will be bombs at midnight….
Bombs of wonder, bombs of fear.

There is no beginning so there can’t be
A conclusion. The womb is really a
Swinging door. The writer runs out of gas,
The canvass is filled with color. The limits
Are artificial, relative, not to be trusted.
We shouldn’t be cows that think barbed
Wire is metaphysical.

There will be bombs at midnight….
Bombs of “I am here! Believe it!”
`
Tomorrow I’ll wake up, go out having
Eaten everything in the house. It will
Be a new day of small challenges. I’ll
Get coffee somewhere, talk to the one
Artist who got up again as usual… not
That that was his plan. I can’t tell how
I’ll feel at that time. That’s the mystery
Of the ages… like finding panties on
The windshield of your car.

There will be bombs at midnight…
Going nowhere…just exploding.