Vintage Stew

When you have the right

ingredients and time to prepare

and know what you are doing.

It’s not just about food.

It’s about teaching, fighting,

creating art or science…

Whatever humans are capable 

of. The Buddhists call it auspicious

coincidence when flour meets eggs

and milk in insight to create pancakes.

We even take flying into space for 

granted.  It’s all part of the bubbling

of the human stew.

When You Create The Mandelbrote

Meaning, essentially, when you’re born.

Infinite genes perform their esoteric

functions so you are you…stupid you

smart you. The processes involved

have no opinion.

Clitter Clutter

Twitter me and I quiver…

Clitter me and I flutter….

Brand me with a spoon.

Racism And The Brave New World

The way things are going, soon human

development will be handled in the lab

as in Huxley’s novel. It will be understood

that judging humans on superficial 

attributes such as the color of their skin is

superstion and unproductive. What replaces

it, which it did in the USA for a while, is the

measure of intelligence…and, humans will

be, (are already) graded on the basis of that,

but in the future…meaning now….It will is

the template for the future/now ordering of

society.

What Is The Nature Of Mind?

About five of us students asked

that question to our teacher, 

Chogyam Trungpa in an intimate 

setting. He said   “I’ll show you.”

“Now, pay close attention.” He

picked up a wooden kitchen match,

and said  “Now I’m going to light the

match.”  There was a moment of 

intense pause.  “That’s it.” he said,

as he put down the unlit match.

Let’s See What’s Happening In The Rest of Nowhere

Well, the rest of the universe is 

having a great giggle watching

humans grope for the obvious

conclusion that it’s teeming with

life. And after they realized that

the ape man had invented the 

Ape Bomb, they got more involved,

took samples for their zoos and

genetic research…what scientists

do as their experiments evolve.

In this part of nowhere, called earth,

the smart humans of yore, having

predicted this time, this age, look

pretty on the money…even to the

blindness of ignorance that has

ripened in humanity…well, just 

look around. if you still have some 

common sense you can see what’s

happening…but part of the meaning

of “dark age” is that it’s dark…

meaning, you don’t want to see…

life seems to be discouraging….

the Hopis said one sign of these times

was that people would lose the will 

to live. I’m not the bearer of bad news.

The first antidote to a trap is knowing

of its existence.

Sweet Spot

Anymore I’m awake, in the

having a body sense, as 

infrequently as possible…

I get up, go out, have coffee,

gather necessary concomitants,

go home, and get ready for bed

the rest of the day…part of this

entails a certain amount of self

medication…intoxication…

because my body is surprsingly 

healthy, in spite of how I treat it.

So, there is a sweet spot, a Xanidu,

where I vision the pleasure dome

in maturity…but, it fades as all 

pleasure domes do. So, why do they

exist at all?  Because everything

you can imagine exists somewhere,

whether it be temporal, temporary,

or, terminal….you can’t take immediacy

of change out of the equasion…ever.

This was the sweet spot…if you’re

wondering.

Plumbing Poem, The Last Sewer I Ever Unstopped

It was a house in Fort Collins, Colorado…a young 

couple lived there…the sewer went out the back,

the main in an alley about 150 feet back…close to

the limit of my machine. I got it unstopped. When I

pulled the cable out, it was infested with condoms 

and cotex. Philip Glass was a plumber before he

became a musician…a friend of mine was his

apprentice for a while. He told me that Philip Glass 

never wanted anyone to ever know he had been a 

plumber.

The Point

Groove, they call it "sweet spot" in sports....

that's why we create....can't help ourselves,,

really, I mean, when you have to......

shit, piss, vomit, it's the same thing....

It's realizing the intuitive, and, letting it

grow.

Tooth (for Thomas)

I just have a missing cap...

you have a missing immune system....

I like my chances, feeling this out...

I remember your tooth problems...

It won't come to that....

you are the template

I put up against my death....

I can see now how it can happen...

I can see now the problems that will come up...

my tooth is just a test because, because of you

I know what I'm in for.

Aphorism

 If the illusion fits, intuit.

Americans

Chickens in their coops

not ready to be harvested, 

but, on hold, still with their

Kentucky Fried in hand, game

on the tube, even the failures

imagine they can still get jobs.

It’s almost over…I mean, 

America is already gone.

We’re just waiting for a coke

machine to release a stick of

dynamite.

Aphorism

No one has discovered the ineffable

except those who were themselves

ineffable.

Seinfeld Rant (for R.A.B.)

What is this thing about Ice?

What? water gets hard and you can hit your head against it`?

not only that, but, it can warm us or cook our food as steam....

I want to know this....What does water want from us?

Al Capp, creator of Li'l Abner, (Whom I saw in Union

Oyster House in Boston, circa 1970, hitchhiking from Chicago to

Boston with a black woman I picked up. Al had a wooden leg,

and food all over his clothes.) Had a character called the Schmoo.

The Schmoo was there to serve man. It would die and instantly

become whatever food was desired....Its skin was fine leather...

its whiskers were toothpicks.  So I equate water with Schmoo....

not that water has intelligence...or, does it?

It's a rant, like a storm, not over until it's over...unlike a storm,

it can be deleted.  Kinda cute...I have a storm here now, in front

of me......I call it John...no, really rain...it's a bit early, but, my rent

just went up.

In Tribute Tom Ryken

Tom Ryken

You and your brother, Willie,

American samurai

in the down home meaning

of common sense. It was a

pleasure to have known you,

though, not well, but some people

you can just be around and

their sanity orders the environment.

Just a real person, made in America,

but, that's why Rinpoche had such

faith in us.

Guest poet Eusebio Sandoval

Shape Poem

Like a Cocoon

Flicker…

Hoping, Fearing

Provoking Past and Future

Did I do my best? Will it be enough to…

Overlook an abyss, cliff to my back, a foothold?

Imagine vertigo eyes of a color unseen,

Unbearable sadness of unheard siren songs,

Seductive golden blossoms of an alien scent.

Relish cool juice of plump fruit never tasted,

Or satisfying opulence of untouched curves.

Think a thought no one ever thought before.

In solitary cinema we reminisce and project

Reflections of every becoming moment.

Mysterious faces mirrored on

Circular watch crystal;

Spinning hands

Endlessly

Dance

Red Light Traffic

Would it kill us if we laughed?

Kicked a pile of dead leaves, scattered ourselves

Flower petals to the wind from the demigods of rose.

On virgin snow field, under cloudless dusky skies,

Jump naked off a cliff into red light traffic,

Alone together exposed.

A Requiem

Memory is the echo

Of disappeared experience

The sweetness of truffles

When they’re gone, the feeling

Remember delicate shell crumpling soft

Inside, dark spiced aromas and liquor

Drowning trifles in silky dreams

You don’t want to end

And even if the mood doesn’t break

It’s easy to find takers, they won’t linger long

But for the echo, how sad, and yet

Melancholy can be a requiem

For beauty

Bardo

Shedding defenses — transition between

Feeling revulsion and finding fruition.

Breathing the power to throw off the end —

Identity dying — the urge to begin.

Fresh

Vista, venue, point

of view…how do you 

tally that? What do you

see? Oh, no, we’re not

done here yet..you are 

still there, reading, blood

pumping through the veins,

like me, writing malarky,

because I never thought

you were for real. 

Paperback Writer

It’s a Beatle’s song….

I was driving back from

Janice Clark’s home in

Wisconsin, where she

wanted me to be a man,

but, I was too young, so…

I just drove back from there

in my Dad’s Buick Electra

90 miles an hour testosteronized

listening to this song…passing

everyone there insane for a while,

but….and I know you won’t believe 

me, but I can look back at that

and realize now…

I nailed it.

Pathetic Old Man Poem

Shall I wipe my ass?

take myself to task before

what I hope is the last time

I will ever lay down?

I know…this is like looking

at something you don’t want

to see, which has been the

nature of truth, religion, art,

the voice in your head that

tells you to break on the

highway……instinctively.

Sizable Butt

I left on a shelf 

in my kitchen

aware of my addiction.

I got it now, 

ready to smoke…

what could be the 

punchline for this joke?

It’s a scaleable, sizable butt…

any questions? Even Pee Wee

Herman said  “Everyone’s got 

a big 'But.'”

Late Poem

Ready for bed.

Ready for the world to end.

Ready for the dollar to collapse.

Ready for my kidneys to give out.

Ready to see the next flower

whenever I next get up.

How Much Of That Doggie Do You Want In The Window?

Almost a title that is the poem….

wait, let’s see…let me put the music on…

Did you ever look into a department store

window and contemplate your reflection

looking at merchandise?

Did you not realize, at that point, you were

nothing but?   I did…which is why I haven’t

watched T.V. for over ten years…(except for

the Broncos….gives a human touch….)

I should have applied to Stanford….the top

student in the class before me got in there…

I would have been dead thirty years earlier.

How much of your doggie do you want in the

window…in view…public….seen…I guess

not much 

“The leeche’s kiss, the squid’s embrace,

the prurient ape’s defiling touch….and do

you like the human race?  No, not much.” 

exactly, to quote Aldous Huxley…. do your

homework…get interested, children…time 

is not on your or our side….and, if you are

not an adult by now, you are still children…..

well, sorry, but, ( and I’m in I love you here

mode.)…..gotta start getting the jokes, and,

even Seinfeld is more powerful than Kant

right now. Because the comedians and the

politicians are the ones of people that at least

breathe that, (besides superficial illusionists

like Derren Brown, whom I adore) try to connect

to real people….like Paul Mcartney, whom I never

loved before, but after Father Death  Blues with

Ginsberg and Scrambled Eggs with Fallon,

just love for him. And, I’m in Mexico…this is 

gonna sound wierd…waiting for the present to

pass into the future…..It’s not a stock market thing

thorn thong……..well, why the fuck are you

reading this anyway?

Derren Brown Addendum

I was having a conversation with

my dear friend, a teacher, musician,

composer. He told me how he taught

young kids…interestingly. After many 

years of doing this, and, it  only worked
with about thirty percent of the students,
about the same percentage of people
susceptible to Mr Brown's techniques,
he found a switch that turned on, what
he calls “Knowledge soul.” so that the
child  could be able to absorb
the particular information. Finding the
switch depended in part on the empathy
he felt with the student.

I have an inkling of what my friend meant
based on my own experience. I was a
plumber for more than thirty years. Many a
Monday morning I would wake up with
the thought . "I don't know how to be a
plumber". But, invariably, when I got to
the job and looked at the work, I would
just start working automatically....as if
the skill had become subconscious.

My friend had other information from
teaching and sales. You don’t go past
the third negative reaction. Up to twenty
five and  after sixty are the susceptible
years…those are the group you pick
from. You need to recognize a high I.Q.
that will react quickly in a situation.
Darren  Brown reads people very quickly.

Derren Brown Artful Dodger

Derren Brown Tricks Uncovered

In the scene where he is taken to a location 

unknown to him, and draws a picture of a 

building after  looking at it for 10 seconds, 

he is seeing the reflection of the building 

in eyes of  the person in front of him

In Seance, where the group of students 

pick a polaroid out of a large 

number of photos, the majority pick the 

one Derren wants, because

it is the only photo where the subject 

stares (rather intently) directly into 

the camera.

"The Great Art Heist" only stole the audience's
intelligence. Most of the program focusing
on the preparation of the pensioners was mis-
direction, so that when the  heist took
place, the audience would be paying attention
to the ruse as if it was the actual plan. But,
what about the caterers? They were Darren's
team, so, did they supplant the actual caterers,
or was someone on the Art Dealer's staff in on
the joke? And since when did you have to take
your watch off to go through security? (which
is when the time on it was changed) Sure, at
the airport when you go through the x ray
machine, but there was no such machine, and,
how did Derren plant his  fake guard there in
the first place without someone on the Dealer's
staff knowing it ? This show is so unbelievable if
you look at it closely, and the Art Dealer either
had to be in on it, or, some of his staff did, or, he's
a complete idiot.

I'm certain Mr. Brown doesn't care if his tricks are
exposed...he's rich enough by now, and he has
only contempt for his audience. To his favor, he
has never claimed to have psychic powers, and has
been involved in debunking psychics and tele-
vangelists. I've seen all his live shows and T.V.
series on U Tube for free...(I'd rather not contribute
to his purchase of another yacht). The few
examples I gave, I'm sure I could expand on with
further scrutiny of his material....but, why bother?
Mr. Brown is not so much a magician as he is a
master of the art of the pyme. He's an honest
charlatan, which may be an oxymoron, but
seems to be true. He is an artful dodger truly
in the Dickensian meaning of the phrase.

Railroad

Iron veins ran through

the heartland defining

the body America took

over the natural world

because somehow it

wasn’t good enough

we had to have T.V.s

and quick dinners to

eat in front of them like

a Pullman from New 

York to Boston we had

to have more of the power 

that the railroad represented

America became America’s

Team because it couldn’t

lose and because it was

powered by steam in Chicago

we lived next to the railroad

track I only woke up at night

when the Special didn’t pass by
on time and shake the earth.

My Father’s Office

Long story, or, poem?

I think, poem. He had

a statue of Uncle Sam

on his desk, rolling up 

his sleeves, defiant,

ready to take on anything.

That was my father.

That has always been me.

Limerick

There once was a beauty named Banerjee,

poetess of quite marvelous energy....

she felt in her heart the red rose and the start

of her love with all of humanity.