Are We There Yet?

The most difficult poem

I could ever write…because,

I’m looking back, from the front

seat, at all sentient beings, my

children, and, what do I say?

“No, we are not close to being 

there, not in a million Kalpas, so,

hold it, because we’re not stopping soon.”

Directions An Embelishment.

We say we give latitude to a situation,

meaning, we give it some space.

We never say we give longitude to

a situation…we should…it’s about time…

giving time to a situation. The norm seems

to be we’ve already run out of time.

Fruition is a nanosecond away from

planting the seed, at least, that’s the cart

we put before the horse that it runs after.

Those that know space know how to

take time. It’s not like we’re going to get

anywhere anyway.

For R. A. B.

You’re not a mystery to me because we’ve 

known each other all our lives…a bit of an

enigma, like a marriage that worked because

we didn’t spend too much time together, and

provided space for re-creation.

When and the way our minds click is unique 

in my life. It’s rare to find someone you can

do yourself with. I’d better say this now, before

another one of us dies.

The Angina Monologue

I know my heart is going to give out

at any moment, which is why this piece,

if you will , has so much poignance…death

is not a subject we, as humans, are likely to

embrace. I know the fear, but, I’ve learned

not to fear it…the consequence is, I’m ready.

Which transposes to life while I’m still here….

 I’m already ready for what’s left in store for me.

Am I looking forward? You wanna talk about it?

Do I know what’s going to happen?

Yes, death…which my whole life has been in

preperation for.

Someone Else's Life

A gang member in a prison in Oakland,

The guard that is watching them.

A nature photographer in Australia.

A politican, everyone with their eyes upon  them.

A child monk, smiling, asleep against a pillar.

A twelve year old in an Indonisian prison.

Your friend who just died.

The jaded public servant you have to deal with.

All the bosses you always hated.

All the people you always loved.

We think we are separate from them,

except for the part we cannot help but share.

Kantemplation

I’m going over there….

I already knew that.

Blade Runner

All my life I’ve been on the edge,

a bit on edge, afraid to slip into the 

mainstream. I mainlined Buddhism,

which is like allowing space to seep

into your veins….no tools required.

My teacher had this analogy of

licking honey from a razor blade,

reminds me of Colonel Kurtz in

“Apocalypse Now” describing 

watching a snail crawl across a 

straight razor. My grandpa was

a barber in Chicago….had a few 

straight razor jokes…he told me

one. It wasn’t funny.

Blessed With Health

That I constantly abuse

because, I have to.

You wouldn’t understand

because you don’t have to…

you can just read and see

what health is there or not.

If I’m kidding myself,

why do some say they like

reading me? Are they kidding 

me?

Actually, i wouldn’t continue 

this function if I didn’t get

something out of it…which

is, obviously, not based on

what others think.

In fact, the only hope I have,

is that my writing, somehow,

stops your mind in it’s tracks.

It’s the only reason why I enjoy 

it, for myself.

Aphorism

Ask not what your country can do for you…

ask what your country can do to you.

Beethoven

I wouldn’t be a poet 

if I never wrote an ode

to Beethoven.

Yesterday, waiting for a friend,

I heard a Mexican orchestra

rehearsing the last movement

of the fifth symphony…the flute

part and the horn part. I so wanted

them, with all my heart, to get it right.

Lead poisoned. mad and deaf,

he didn’t seem to mind…bulled

his music into creation with

extraordinary passion and love.

Beethoven is one of the few that

automatically breaks my heart.

Here is non verbal communication

that rings clear hundreds of years.

Maybe Nietsche could hold a candle

to his mind….maybe Whitehead….

maybe Buddha, when he was on

a drunk.

Bliss Emptiness (for Keith Dowman)

Bliss emptiness, drunk, stoned,

what difference does it make?

Hungover, waiting for the mail,

what difference does it make?

Waking constantly into the light,

into the discrepancy of foregone

conclusions that we should have

abandoned long ago.

Waking ino the awareness of

what we don’t know we wll know

once we get over the hangover.

“Will The Real Anybody Please Stand Up”

I do everythiing by the book, anymore…

of the book and for the book…even though

I’m off the books…invisible bookwise…

I have a certain look which is off the books…

halfway between Robby The Robot and

Malcom X, or something…I mean, if I’m not 

being too vague, while meaning the opposite.

“anyone lived in a pretty how town, with up so

floating many bells down”   (eecummings)

This is so fun, because I have no idea where

I’m going, and, it’s my mind. “If I had not made

myself perfectly clear, it would always, 

everywhere have been not my fault”  

(eecummings)

BUT, NO! THERE’S MORE….(and the Moors 

that took over part of Spain for a 

time…but, we don’t have to get involved with 

that discussion now)

Will the real anybody stand up? Not a bad 

question really….happens a trillion 

times a day if you add up everybodys’ lives. 

It’s not the overwhelming question,

but…….(I think I just wrote myself into a corner 

here…having to come up with the final trope..and 

you are the only human that could understand that)

I just did.

Aphorism

"The universe is creative uncertainty"

Robert Arnold  Burghardt

Timely Death

Because his death helps us see who we are...

Because his death comes at the time when

we are thinking about the same thing....

at the time when we wonder about our lives, the choices we

made....what we did, are doing about the whole thing.

Let's think about the blessing he gave us..you and me.

Let's think about the question he left us with....you and me.

It's the overwhelming question, to be, or, not to be.

None of us, you, John, me measured out our lives

with coffee spoons.....so, no, John's death is not

a tragedy.....not a comedy...is there anything in between?

No.

We only realize John is dead because he lived.

We only even realize we're alive once in a while.......it's sad

Thank you, John, for living 'till now, 'till you made me 

realize I was still alive..

For John #2

This is the last Dear John letter I’ll 
ever write you. It may take a while to 
get to you, It’s already gotten to

me, but maybe, no, surely, you’re
so raw in the now  now that you are
hearing me, Dear John. You’re dead.

We all go this way. All that know
you will not forget you, so, we don’t
have to deal in past tense. Just because
we didn’t spend a lot of time together

didn’t mean that I forgot you were there.
Just because you are gone now doesn’t
mean that I feel you not there. 

I’m not sure why I loved you. I think it
might be the same for all of us, ever
in our lives, we love because we can’t 

help ourselves. That’s the best…always
a surprise. We know why we hate…
because we have a good reason.

We are not sure why we love….
why? What the heck is that?

No, John, we love because that is,
was, shall be the only

reason for our lives.

Mirage (For John Zielinski ((a Carl))

You were never there even when you were

in the instance of my life when I needed

just you…I don’t think you even knew

how right you were just then.  

I don’t think you ever knew how right

you were are ever always.

“My first orgasm came as a surprise….”

My first orgasm came as a surprise…

like when I graduated from college

and realized I wasn’t prepared for life…

like when I met my teacher, asked him if

there was an easier way, and, he just

smiled and shook his head….like when

I told my father he was dying…

like when mom put the brakes on

the Rambler and they didn’t work, and

we smashed into the back of a car…

like when I heard Kennedy was shot…

like when my wife told me she was

pregnant, but wasn’t sure who the 

father was…like when I accidentally

walked in on my father and his second

wife having sex…like when I realized

I had no more problems.