Not For Writing

This is not writing stoned.

This is taking the paint off 

the wall stoned.

I didn't read the warning

on the pipe:
"Watch Your Head!"

But I'm writing anyway,

like a frog splayed on a

dissecting table...

time for lunch.

Nothing wrong with that

frog that a life as a toad

couldn't fix.

You see?

But, you see, we hippies,

what's left of us,

never could abide your rules.

You have to learn technique 

to paint, to do music...

but even these disciplines 

become second nature...

...then, you improvise.

Which is a description of how

we learn to live on our own 

at all anyway.

"Kill the Buddha"