Freedom

Free from the complications

of discursive mind.

Enough money to live

and not be a slave, or,

starving in a ditch.

Free to write whatever

I wish, not burdened by

deadlines or the possibility 

of fame.

I crossed the finish line,

yet, I find myself still alive,

a joy to bask in non action.

i followed the unwritten map,

seeing signposts in my beans 

and coffee...avoiding potholes

of trapped minds...nodding and

smiling to the policemen of

control, obviously not worth

their bother.

Humor is my atomic bomb,

assuring mutual destruction

of pretense and fakery.

I write because it's what I do,

without effort or reason, failing

to impress, no other purpose

but that I love words and am

curious as to how they will

come out, the way some 

people dance.