Speed

When I was in the rat race,

(I don’t know what it’s

called now…the lemming

maneuver?)  I had to keep up

with the pace, so, no wonder

Twitter, Facebook, ect…would

outpace me now….speed is the

distraction, the sleight of hand,

the curtain that keeps us from

seeing what’s going on….or even

caring what’s happening….fear

driven speed.

Living Every Day As If It Were The Last

Becomes easier as you get older

because things start falling off,

for example, or, you’re not quite

sure which part of your body is

going to dislocate next.

If one has a sense of humor, it

can be a bit like playing Bingo,

but you probably wouldn’t

enjoy it if you’re not ready….

…it’s an acquired taste, like

life itself….and…if you don’t

know how to live, you won’t

know how to die.

THE BUBBLE

It’s fermentation in a closed container.

It’s every layer of the cake of American

society: political, economic, artistic,

demographic….fermentation in a closed

container.

Like Fukushima, America is ready to blow.

When it does, will there be any place to go?

No one really knows…the pundits, the intellects,

the people in control…what is happening now…

now: with information increasing exponentially,

population exploding, dwindling resources and food,

humanity running rampant like yeast in sugar…..

no better than any other beast.

So, some of us, who read or write this poem…

what can we hope for?

Don’t hope. Increase awareness.

That’s what you will always take with you.

The Least Interesting Person In The World

So uninteresting,  people hardly know he’s there…

people  constantly bumping into him….

always being ignored…

doesn’t have much to say…

The least interesting person in the world

smiled…. such peace surrounded him…

so far from importance…like dust,

part of the environment….

The least interesting person in the world

was the latest freed man, beyond description

of to be*,  interested in everything but himself,

no reference point, a nameless child, not lost.

In the world, but not of it….part of it, not

separate from it…constantly changing

within kaleidoscopic perception…his

nickname was “Dead by the side of the road.”

At least, that was what the Native Americans
called him.

*from Wallace Stevens, “The Latest Freed Man”

Japan

a bell rings in an empty sky

it’s time for the new tea, the

first tea of the season

the bazaar at the temple

strangely absent of sellers

I remember the Mikosan’s*

dance…like seeing something

hundreds of years old, yet fresh….

…the 400 years old restaurant

with giant koy pond…the one

the shogun ate at, with the aromatic

herb found nowhere else.

…sitting in the sento,  bath house,

watching sumo on T.V., a ratty

looking yakusa, body tattooed,

missing a little finger….

…the food! Mongolian barbecue,

sukiyaki with Kobe beef, sitting

in the main room, fire in the middle,

cooking pot hanging from a hook

ornamented by a carved fish…Jack

putting items in the simmering broth,

pulling them out and eating them…

Fukushima, Nagasaki….

the bazaar at the temple

strangely absent of sellers.

 * Mikosan: an apprentice Gesha

A Buddhist Teaching: How The Reality Tunnel Maintains Itself

The Five Skandas

“Skanda” is a Buddhist term, which,

in translation, means “heap”, like,

agglomeration.  It is a model of how mind

recreates it’s reality tunnel constantly…

moment to moment.

There are five skandas. They work in sequence.

Form:  We perceive a shape, a form, real or abstract,

we notice it.

Feeling:  Like the Terminator, we sort our records

and try to identify the form as something we’ve seen

before, to know if it is a threat or not.

Perception:  We see the form clearly. It may be

something  we’ve seen  before or not.  If we have,

our feelings about it gain validity.

Concept:  If we haven’t seen the form before,

if we can’t pigeon hole it,  mind uses what skills

it has acquired over it’s development to come up

with an explanation.

Consciousness:  The original perception has either

been digested into the whologram of the landscape,
meaning the faith or acceptance of the reality tunnel,

or dismissed as irrelevant or threatening.

This process happens constantly in our minds....

many times a second..

I'm not sure why they're called "heaps".
My guess is it's hard for the mind to
keep up with all this crap.

Jesus Was A Wino

Not only was one of his sacred rituals,

in part, drinking wine, but he also turned

water into wine….well…who would call

that a miracle EXCEPT a wino?