Taking My Seat

Installed outside the coffee shop, no ceremony 

was involved. Last night a drunk driver smashed

the door of the shop just in front of where I sit.

It’s a big wooden door stoutly made, and they

bucked it. An outstanding exhibition of drunkenness 

I had to admire, having once been there myself.

That’s the news from my vantage point, not worth

a post on X, it will never go viral, the goal of social

media, infecting millions of minds. Social media 

should be called something else. Quantum circus

of infection? Plague of the 21st Century? Something

like that. All it does is give morons more slogans to

chose from to rant with. If you can’t see what’s 

happening by now, you haven’t been paying attention.

The truth may feel negative, but it’s always positive.

This could be the end of humanity.

This could be the beginning of a Dark Age predicted

by all religions and prophets.

I still have some coffee left. The clouds kissing the

mountains are beautiful. Maybe I’d put some red in

my hair to make myself look a little better.

Jailhouse Rock

“Everybody in the whole cell block

was dancin’ to the jailhouse rock.”

Plenty of places to go from there…

Jan. 6 political prisoners but don’t get

me started. Innocents are always losers.

Have you noticed? No? Why? 

Because they’re dead. More to come.

It’s not morbid. It’s just what happens.

Humans dream of Paradise, Eden, 

Heaven. They just numbly don’t get there.

It’s just what happens.

“And so it goes.”

Who could have imagined it…..life?

Whatever….it is, and then everything else

happened. People live as if this is the way

things are, even though they were never this

way before. “Things are more the way they

are now than they ever have been.” 

Eisenhower.

Can you see where I’m going?

Nowhere, that’s right. I’m a good Buddhist 

so I always point to nothing.

Yet, it’s a movable feast, all our minds.

The great thing about Nothing is that

everything arises from it. That’s all that

Buddhism says and it cost you Nothing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

At the boys’ bed and breakfast, nice cloudage

on the balcony, classical music. I like Ed and

Mike. They’re regular guys, Johnsons, Burroughs

calls them. Guys that would help you if you 

needed it, but otherwise minded their own affairs.

Ed talks to me his brain on autopilot, driving

itself into the ground. I give him a different  view

and he comes around.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Now at lsabella’s in the new Mercado.

Eggs, bacon, pork, rice, beans, all the nutrients 

I need in the Matrix…this illusion tastes good.

A hint of Thai flavor in the peanut sauce…I could

go on like this forever.

Outlaw

When the center of society is corrupt 

it’s saner to be on the fringe.

When laws become oppressive it’s 

better to go around them.

That’s something we learned as hippies.

Did you think we were wasting our time?

We weren’t playing their games. We made

up our own. Creativity is the father of

invention. Necessity, the mother, is always

telling us the lawn needs mowing.

One thing’s for sure: there’s always something.

Even getting up insists on adventure…even if

we have a rut, a routine, derailment is always

Da likelihood. One can be smart and be numb,

stupid and be enlightened. We have what we bring 

to the table, and also what we are served. Over all,

the whole thing’s a feast, if you look at it that way,

or a holocaust, if you’re so inclined. One of the 

Khans, I forget which one, tried to kill Karma 

Pakshi, by fire, by boiling him in oil, other ways.

He was never harmed in the slightest. 

It’s only a story, but it happened they say.

He was an outlaw of the laws of physics. How can 

that be? “There are more things in heaven 

and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your 

philosophy.” Hamlet. Shakespeare was an alien.

I have a great disguise, costume, persona that fits

very nicely over my corpse. Is it possible to be 

morbidly awake? I just thought of that. Anyway,

(My Muse is winging it.) Even writing as an outlaw.

The Beats did., Bukowski, Miller, etc., all the great 

ones, like all the artists, presented something that, if

one digested, one would see the world in a more 

clear way. So, Buddha was the greatest outlaw of

them all. He showed humanity how to transcend

imprisonment at all. Just say’n. And, he did it

peacefully. Me? I’m a cheap imitation of what I 

do not know. A word salad, like Kamala does, but

with anchovy, hard boiled egg, artichoke and bacon,

you know, something nice….that was an outlaw 

thing to write.

Social Media

 Social media is a charnel ground

where corpses of people’s thought abound.

A steady stream of scream goes forth;

just the homosap letting off some steam.

Musk Rant

People in Tepoztlan are truly nice people,

a lot of them. When they say hello, they mean

that. When they don’t say hello, they mean 

that too. It’s not like on X, where “community 

standards” is an algorithm. Not so good, Elon.

Build some cars, fly to Mars, have fun, you crazy

genius wannabe! How many tricks does a pony

have? Not all of them.

I’m curious to see if you forget you’re only human.

You and Russel Brand could have a talk on X Spaces

all about God.  That would be fun.

Documentary #3

“I don’t hate people, I just feel better 

when they’re not around.” Charles Bukowski 

Move over, Rover, Jesus is coming!

Eli’s coming, hide your heart, girl!

Why should we argue?

Do your own thing! Even we hippies had 

some wisdom way back then.

“Chill” didn’t come from raves, you know.

I’ve loved being at some of them, they were

cool, groovy, out of sight.

“Do it again, just a little bit slower.”  We had

the best music back then. I say “back then” as

if it wasn’t now, which it is. I picked out the good

stuff all my life, wherever I found it. 

You’d be surprised. 

My Muse only has this tool, me, to work with.

The universe does what it can.

“Hey, look! Humans! That’s pretty good!”

Whoever thought that life would happen?

Another proof that thoughts don’t matter 

very much…

only when folks take them seriously.

Comedians have to be the way they are,

or else they’d explode. My mind’s a blank

until the universe peeks through. 

Wouldn’t you?

I only had a taste tease of moonshine once,

as a plumber at a rich man’s house in South

Carolina. It was the best liquor I’d ever tasted.

My father wanted to teach his sons how to drink,

so he taught us and we became drunks. Drinking 

helped me because I was very sensitive and uptight.

I always used, like Tarzan, the vines that 

were available. 

I don’t care.

I’m old.

You try it.

California Girls

Re :  Donald Trump IS:   “BOSS MAGA MAN”

I’ve been a boss and I’ve had bosses and

they’re not always necessary a bad thing…

except for…. plumbers. One of the few rules

we plumbers have is that the boss is an asshole.

Folklore….oral culture…..jokes…it’s the truth.

Oh yeah, saw The Beach Boys, Chicago, 1963.

Documentary

Half of the day I rest.

The other half I don’t do very much.

The entropy of the Matrix has me.

Social media is like turning on a faucet 

of shit. I can’t say it any plainer than that.

It takes up too much energy I don’t have.

I like looking out at space, the direction

I travel. 

Social media sucks the life out of me,

but it’s something I should know.

Is  Trump relying on God, or Project

Looking Glass?

All belief is magical thinking.

I start writing and don’t stop.

It was that way with sex…

entropy again. Writing is easier,

if only it could get me laid.

Bukowski wrote simply..didn’t pontificate.

I am a Pontiff of pontification, opinion,

verbal clarification. Are we clear on that?

It’s all just algorithms.

Morphony

Morphony…more funny…not taking

the whole goddamned thing so seriously.

Slap schtick getting the punch line in time.

You get the jokes?

Well, you’d better laugh, folks, because 

these are them.

It’s based on the fact that change is inevitable.

One of the only things we can count on is change.

It’s a Buddhist thing, you wouldn’t understand.

Imagine if Buddha had become a comedian instead.

Comedians must rank somewhere on the spiritual 

hierarchy, excluding from spirituality all organized

religions.

The Tibetans just got lucky for a while.

But, after thirteen hundred years, (pretty good)

they lost their power/the Communists took over.

Blah, blah, blah….it’s all The Big Myths’ Take.

Swell

 That’s an old guy’s slang term for a job well done, 

with good workmanship, even a bit beautiful. It also

means no need for further praise, next thing.

The new Mercado in Tepoztlan is that way. Many 

people here, of all stripes and feathers, were querulous.

It’s the opposite now, as it is for me also.

As having been a plumber that did commercial 

construction plumbing as well, I could quickly tell two

things: The proper vision of the place had been 

implemented, so that the building itself was already

 becoming an integral part of the downtown space,

without being intrusive. That’s saying something for

the only four story, 1/4 block square building in the 

vicinity. The construction was, in my eyes, beautiful.

The workmanship was not shoddy, it was rather 

impeccable. The way the work itself was done made

it more beautiful. It enhances the magic of Tepoztlan. 

It’s really swell.

Next?

(Spoiler Alert! first you explain the joke, then you tell it.)

Aphorism

All organized religions are organized wishful thinking.

Corollary:  All organized religions are cults.

Commentary:

“ There was only one Christian, and they killed him”

Frederick Nietzsche.

I’m using Christianity as my example, but my thesis 

applies to all religions. The Bible doesn’t say what

happened to Jesus when he was “wandering in the 

“wilderness” for twenty years. For the Jews, wilderness 

could have meant anywhere that wasn’t there, where they 

were. Some scholars have proposed that Jesus might

have found his way to India and Tibet, studied and 

practiced  Buddhist meditation and yoga there, and 

became an adept. There are videos on YouTube that 

go into this. There is anecdotal evidence, as well as 

historical writings, that support this idea.They say the 

person that came to India from far away was named

“Issa”. Jesus/Issa are quite similar, given distances 

of thousands of miles and different cultures. If true, 

this would be rational evidence for some of the 

phenomena associated with Jesus. The “miracles” 

he supposedly performed are a good example. The

Tibetans have countless examples of documented 

“miracles”performed by Buddhist adepts. Raising 

the dead? My own teacher, Trungpa, is said to have 

done that to one of his teachers that died. Another 

teacher, Trinley Norbu, is said to have done it too.

These were Buddhist yogins that were alive in my time. 

He predicted my future two times about two different 

things. Other miracles; being in two places at once, 

transporting his body to another place,

appearing as different beings, are all stories I heard 

from my fellow students Trungpa saw what is happening 

in the USA today. He urged his students to move to 

Nova Scotia to avoid the mess. Many did. So, in light 

of these and other examples I could give, the miracles 

that Jesus allegedly performed, a main reason to the

claim he was the Son of God, are not that extraordinary 

or evidence of divinity. The few teachings of Jesus the 

New Testament includes are interesting. “Love thy 

neighbor as thyself”, the Golden Rule, is the same as 

the Buddhist idea of compassion. “Unless you are like 

one of these, (children), you cannot enter the kingdom 

of Heaven”. Unless you are free from the pollution of 

discursive mind, Buddhists would say, you cannot 

attain enlightenment would be the same idea.

If the Catholic (or any) Church practiced the actual 

teachings of Jesus, the world would be a better place for 

sure. The history of the Catholic Church, as an example, 

is one of greed and genocide, hardly what Jesus would 

have taught. The Catholic Church genocided the Gnostics. 

In the teachings of Gnosticism, it is said that adherents 

to that could have a direct relationship to God without 

intermediaries. That would have eliminated the need for 

the priesthood, and the Catholic organization did not 

tolerate that idea. Having said that, the Christian ideals 

of kindness and decency are central to the values of 

tradition in the USA. It’s better to get a little bit of 

something good than nothing at all. I do emphasize,

however, that organized religions always stray from

whatever founding principles that are good that they

may be based on into corruption. It is better to get 

nothing at all than something bad.

Amnesia Number Two

We are born with amnesia

of how we ever came to be.

But. a mind like that, doesn’t 

understand all at once.

Victim Of Amnesia

When I was born I had forgotten who

I had been. My father looked at me and said:

“Where have you been?” I couldn’t answer him.

I was back at tabula rasa, square one, beginner’s 

mind. From then, I made it up anew, as I went along.

T.V. was new. I was watching a show, The Big

Picture. I thought: “Oh boy! I’m going to find out

what life is all about!” I didn’t, it was a military show.

So I went on in the clear fog of not knowing, 

discovering that nobody else knew either, although

they tried to tell me they did. I never believed any

of them. I could tell by their words they were stuck

in a rut, parents, teachers, the whole lot of them.

They were all full of shit. I read a lot of books,

thinking that someone must know something,

figured it out a bit. There were clues in poems I

memorized, a few words at a time. I thought if

I had enough clues, things would begin to make 

sense, it did. I realized very few had any idea what 

they were doing, or why. I became friendly but 

distant, wondering if I would ever meet someone

that had it together. I did, Trungpa, my teacher. He

was so together he had a body with no bullshit inside.

It was rather intimidating because, by that time, I had

accumulated plenty of bullshit myself. I didn’t mean to,

but there it was. He taught me to shed it, dissolve it,

vomit it. I went through a lot, but now I’m fine.

What else shall we talk about? The weather, the

mountains, the sweet dogs I pet as I go to the

market? I don’t want to bore you with details,

but that’s all I’ve got. There’s nothing more to explain.

I self evolved, like anyone could, but few do; too

ravenous for feces, as Shantideva put it, to even

look around. I write because I breathe, it’s part of

it all. I send poems into the quantum matrix, the Void,

like other poets did, aspiring that some will catch some

of the clues that I send, the continuity of awakened mind,

so they can find their own paths, their own awakenings

from the sleep of their lives, and finally remember

what they are.

And The Bleat Goes On

Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Are you seeing one side?

If so, it’s the wrong one.

If there’s a war going on in America, 

and there is

Someone’s fighting with somebody else.

This is not another four year election.

Have you noticed?

Something’s rotten in Denmark, and

it’s not the cheese.

Ho hum….all,I can do is wait for you

to catch up, if you ever will.

I throw my two cents into the mix,

like a snowflake landing on a burning stove.

Everyone has their own ideas, but some

of them are correct. No one can tell you

what to think, but, shut up already!

Aren’t you getting tired of talking to

yourself in your mind? Why not?

You may realize by now most of your

thoughts are useless garbage. That’s 

the matrix that’s got you. Just because 

you walk on two legs, doesn’t mean you’re 

not more animal than human, if all you

rely on are your survival instincts and

seeking pleasure that can never be fulfilled.

Even Jesus wanted a little more time, the

Son of God, some say. Don’t be so damned smug.

Use the senses to let reality seep in.

Let that sink in.

Day Tripper (number 5?)

Here we go, the curtain is rising again.

What will the show be this time? Only

time and my Muse knows for sure.

Really, reality is pretty good right now.

I don’t need to get high. I do it for 

humanity, not that it pays attention 

much right now to other than the sideshow

that consumes most people’s minds in the 

current chaostrophy. I’ll take a shower soon

because high is always better when the body 

is clean. There, that’s better. A little patchouli 

to top it off. Perfection was never like this.

Are you still looking  for that, perfection?

I could tell you where to find it but you 

wouldn’t believe me. Some already know.

It’s been around since the Buddha, who 

was the end product of human evolution.

People have used his teachings to self-evolve

ever since. I know. I’m one of them. And yes,

since you ask, there are intelligent beings

throughout the universe. There are minds

with no bodies that are as vast as space.

It’s possible to communicate with them.

The Gnostics did, which is why the 

Church eradicated them.

“Nothing scares people more than

the possibility of freedom.” 

Robert Anton Wilson  Music has

charm to sooth the savage beast.

Music saved  my life before I

discovered meditation. 

Buddha said that language is

the least effective form of 

communication. If you see the

truth, words aren’t necessary.

Totalitarians use language to 

confuse, which is so obvious now.

Every ruler should have a “Fool”,

one who can speak the uncomfortable 

truth, the opposite of a “Yes” man.

I think I’m having a conversation with

Elon Musk on X. Maybe it isn’t him, 

but anyway it’s a great conversation with

whomever. “Have you heard about my

investment opportunities? “ always seems

to come up with him, whether it’s him 

or not. Oh well, I hope he works for Trump 

and has his ear. 

Now then, on to something else, but what?

A pleasant experience continues. I’ve gotten

all I’m going to get out of psychedelics. 

Ecstasy is the only one I’ll occasionally do.

It’s somewhat refreshing, turns the mind a 

little to the left, whatever that means. Just 

a beautiful day. I wish all sentient beings

could live in my mind for just a little while.

I could take care of them there. Actually,

I do anyway because that’s the only job

I’ll ever have in all my lives. It’s the thread

that makes sense of the discontinuity. It’s why 

you knew you wanted to become a ballerina 

when you were two. One thing my mother said

on her deathbed that as a girl she wanted to

travel to Tibet. A Tibetan enlightened guy

liberated her mind just before she died, so,

I guess she knew something way back then.

If enlightenment wasn’t an awakening of the

senses, it would be senseless, like religions.

The uncertainty is where we can learn

something. Pretty sure about that.

I used to be a teacher of meditation.

Now, this is the only venue I have

for much of anything.

I never wanted to be a guru. In that,

I’ve succeeded admirably. It’s better

to get nothing at all than something bad.

All that’s stuck in my mind are some 

quotations I remember. I’m glad I have

them because they’re beautiful and some 

good jokes. A few Captain Beefheart

a capella songs he sang, sung poems 

really. He was a great poet. Lots of the

great poets, after the fifties, were singers

of different genres, because that’s where

the money was. They were the truth tellers

the Elizabethan “Fools” of our age. The 

ones that told the truths that people could

hear and sing along. Fantastic. Bob Dylan

definitely contributed to my awakening.

Joanie Mitchel too. She met Trungpa and

she was definitely touched by the experience.

Ginsberg asked Trungpa once if he wanted

to meet Bob Dylan. His answer was: “ I

couldn’t care less.” I’ll leave it at that.

My wife and I gave Ginsberg a ride once 

from Vermont to Boston. It was just before

his poems he wrote about the Rolling Thunder

Review were published in Rolling Stone 

magazine, and he recited some while we were 

driving. One that I still like, to this day, goes

like this: “Nobody saves America by sniffing

cocaine/ jiggling your knees blank eyed in the

rain/when it snows in your nose you catch 

cold in your brain” I think his Howl was the

most influential poem, in English, in the second

half of the twentieth century. Same as On The

Road was the most influential novel. That’s 

what I think. All pleasure and no pain makes

Jack a dull boy. Like the weather in Colorado,

if you don’t like what you see, just wait awhile.

I like what I see, clouds, rain, sun, the sellers

in the market, the dogs roaming free and 

undisturbed, children dressed up in little

costumes…sometimes they’re on horses,

with their parents by their sides. I’m never

sure if these people believe in anything.

They sure like a good show, though. Don’t 

we all? When’s the current “bomb” going

to end? Not soon enough for me. And there 

is still the possibility we might go

full Kali Yuga. We don’t have long

until we’ll know. Meanwhile, which I call

being in Mexico, I live in a special, magical

place, maybe not in the way you imagine it.

Find your own, because it must be somewhere.

You can’t become enlightened when

you’re a God….too much pleasure,

you’re not interested. Only, the Gods

don’t know their existence may be long,

but it’s still temporary, like the biggest

mountains. Think about that the next time

you want to go to heaven. Like Blind Faith

said in one of their songs: “Heaven is in

your mind.” That’s what you find when you

come back to your senses. That’s why

meditation. If it didn’t work, no one would 

have been doing it for thousands of years.

The future was always the present growing

up…how much greater America could become.

The American Dream which seemed to work

for some, others not so much. It’s a relative

goal, all of which are disappointing. Even when

you get to the top you realize you’re on the

bottom, Bob Dylan said. He also said you’re

either busy being born or busy dying, which

also true for everyone. A good place to stop.

A Gift To Tepoztlan (for Herbert Wickenheiser)

I’ve made an impression 

in the space where I sit

outside the coffee house 

in Tepoztlan.

When I die they won’t 

remember me, but they will

remember my colorful socks,

the ties that I wore: “ Where is

that guy that used to sit there

with the striped socks?” they’ll

wonder. Perfectly out of place.

They’ll remember me as a thing

that used to be there.

Space has a memory, like water,

(the scientists say), don’t think it

doesn’t. Space has a memory,

otherwise, nobody would remember

their past lives, some do. They will

remember the colors there for a while,

the ones that saw me, after I’m gone.

Emptiness is the best gift a Buddhist

can give.

Walking Around (for and with Pablo Neruda)

A comby (van) ride to town past

Mexican buildings with bright 

colored murals. I get off at the main

bus stop where I saw a UFO two years 

ago. Straight to the coffee house, I sit

down outside. I’ve come here so often

a friend painted a portrait of me here;

it looks like he captured my soul.

Most people are calm in this un bourgeois 

town. “Still, it would be lovely, to wave a

cut lily and panic a Notary,

or finish a nun with a left to the ear.”

My craving for revenge at being born has

abated. The world does its thing and I do mine.

After coffee, I walk a couple of blocks to the

new Mercado. Grand Opening yesterday, I

didn’t go, mostly through with fiestas. I have 

a routine and a route that I travel, like all

paraplegics just waiting for revelation. It won’t 

come from a God, I know that now. I find the

meaning of life in strangers’ faces, or pick it up

from the street, lost by some unconscious slob.

Things in themselves are symbolic. There’s a 

secret code that runs through the world. Only

if you look can you see it, and most are too busy

for that. This town is fiesta, when it happens or

not. Everyone’s up for a joke, laugh easily at

not very much, my kind of people. Everyone 

knows life’s joke, the uncertainty. The icons

they carry through the streets in processions 

are imposing. I guess they have to believe in

something…no one tells them otherwise.

They go on this way for centuries. I’m still,

not walking, but very moved inside by their

sufferings and their joys.

Good times, but not the way you think.

Just being on the street delights me, like

an old man sitting on his front porch with 

his shotgun, waiting for nothing in Paradise.

Internet Is Out

Sitting in a chair looking out my front door,

second floor steel steps leading down to

walkway curved to the right, block steps

I had cemented into place so they wouldn’t 

wobble, then a cobblestone walkway,

a few steps, a steel railing I had 

put in, the walk is steep but not too long

up to the street. In front of me a wall of green,

trees and bushes, some wires strung head level,

a little coiled plastic pipe on the ground.

A wall of green, and earth and stone behind the

green. Silent except for the rare car, occasional dog.

No fireworks yet, although I expect 

there will be some. I hardly notice anymore.

Internet’s back on!! 

Fuck it!

It’s only poetry!

“The best things in life are free.”

I wish I could get ahold of that guy

just once. The best things may not 

cost anything, but you still have to 

work for them, like

education,

enlightenment,

a good used car.

“You can’t take it with you.”

is another thing they say.

For me, that was easy because

I always gave everything away,

not caring to carry baggage on

my continuous journey, which,

I know doesn’t end with death.

How do I know that? Well, I can’t 

really share my experience, put you

in my head for a while.

Birth is another beginning, death

another end. As dharmas of samsara,

they are relatively true, not absolute.

Buddha told the whole truth 84,000

times. That’s what he did, that’s all

he did. He was the Terminator of the

illusion in which we all live.

Buddhism is no longer popular.

The ways of the world dominate in this age.

Faster and faster, more and more is the rage.

The world is ablaze with the three poisons.

Look them up, I won’t do your homework,

you lazy bastards.

I had a girlfriend once that was a young girl

when she was in a Nazi concentration camp 

for three years. She came out of that marvelously 

intact. She was better than any Prima Donnas

that are everywhere today in this gone world.

And So It Goes

“When I die, they will place my hands like this.

It will look as though I am flying into myself.”

Bill Knott, Chicago poet.

As the clouds come and go, whether you like it,

or not. Change comes hard for us, whether we like

it or not.

Even if we want to get better somehow, it’s a

difficult journey.

All the wisdom we need has been available for

thousands of years, whether we heed it or not.

Sometimes what is familiar gives us reassurance,

whether it’s good for us or not.

Humans are strange, have the ability to change,

unlike dogs and elephants, but, never forget:

you do what you do, whether you like it or not.

One teacher I knew said his teaching method 

was like a blind man swinging a stick in a crowd.

Whomever he hit was coincidence, auspicious

at that.

The world does what it does, whether…..(you

remember…whether you want to or not.)

We do what we do, over and over, ‘till we

get life right. Lives recycle, called reincarnation.

Comedians try the same joke over and over

‘till the audience gets the punchline.

That’s called compassion.

There’s only one poem, one song, one joke,

one punchline. Don’t you wonder, sometimes,

what it is, whether you want to or not?

I write, then I stop…I do what I do too,

whether anyone likes it or not.

Clear View

 Open air on the fourth floor of the new

Mercado. Valley and mountains laid out,

mind expands for miles, no thoughts while

eyes take in what it sees. Vipassana, clear

seeing, what happens when you practice 

meditation and the ego begins to wear thin.

It’s the mind that moves, not the flag.

Experience moves as the mind moves,

a very moving experience. Everything 

arises in the mind, including the universe.

When we look through a telescope, all we

see is our own mind manifesting perception.

But, the pigs don’t know that, and the ponies

don’t know that. “You mean, only we know that?”

“That’s right.”

Sense Of Dollars

Clams, smackers, gelt, moola,

Lots more names I’m sure, filthy lucre.

“What it takes to get along”, 

post Depression song.

Really what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Would you agree is what I want to know.

I get along more without it now, I’m

shrinking rapidly, a slow fade as the music swells.

just a slow dissolve and segue into a new scene.

It never was my idea.

Whenever I relied solely on my rational mind,

it was always a big mistake.

I foretold, only to myself, my future up to now.

It’s hard to believe, for you, some of my realities 

that are true, (Ah, goofy poetry, foolish me).

I’ve never been a coward when survival was at stake.

I haven’t killed anybody yet. I had an opportunity and

wanted to, but didn’t. It’s always a possibility.

Why I mention that now I have no idea.

I’m just writing down what comes out of there.

No point in this one, no punchline. 

Might as well should give up now.

It turns out money wasn’t so important 

after all.

Why Bother?

I write poetry, if you can call it that,

because I fell in love with it in high school,

and that continued on. Back then, colleges

educated people in culture, not like now.

I continue to write because I can’t help it,

the way an alcoholic can’t help drinking,

the way a dancer can’t help dancing,

the way most people can’t help thinking.

Sometimes my blog gets a lot of hits,

which could be a glitch in software, or,

someones read me. 

Still, I don’t really know how popular I am.

Younger people don’t even read books anymore.

A patron is what I need, an anachronistic term

for those in olden days that had “fuck you “ money,

and could easily afford to patronize the arts.

I don’t mind being patronized: “There, there, poor man…

here’s your hundred bucks.” if it gave me an hundred bucks.

But, I’ll keep writing anyway, Fool that I am, though there

may not be Royalty of any ilk that could appreciate what I am.

The desperation of iambic verse,

no more no less, 

no one likes to be a wolf howling at the moon.

“For what it’s worth…buy my album” 

the musician said, as art is bought and sold,

tailored to Consumer’s Mind. (Suzuki Roshi

would have been proud of that). I give myself,

my poetry, to all the beasts that eat me.

And that’s that.

Billions And Billions

How many billions of years

before this coffee house appeared?

I’ve waited for my coffee, but never this long.

A lady passed me with an ass 

that could stop a truck. How long have

I waited to see that? How long will it be

before I see my teacher again,

drunk Trungpa, with his crystal mind?

Not long at all, in fact, he’s with me now.

That happens when you make connection 

with the quantum maze. Few have that 

experience, that perception. Most wander

in Brownian motion, pinballing through 

life, in one direction. “Tilt”, and it begins

again, another quarter in the slot, 

another life. People don’t believe in

reincarnation, rainbow body, enlightened

mind, phenomena documented for

thousands of years. In the West, most

still have never even heard of those 

realities. They only believe in money,

pleasure, tangible substances, their

lovers’ skins. It’s a game of diminishing 

returns, like Patchinko. 

Maybe going to Mars is the brass ring

on the carousel. Fat chance. You see,

there are some things I don’t believe,

like Gods of any name, religions…

there are some mythstakes I don’t make.

Eternity is real, for sure, but it doesn’t 

happen all at once. It’s discontinuous,

like the uncertainty of our lives.

Humans arose because man eternally

arrives. Everything you can imagine

is happening right now somewhere.

There’s a universe in a drop of water,

Blake, or someone said. The microcosm

scaleable to the macrocosm. Each mind

is a universe unto itself, the same number

of possibilities. Even science, still primitive,

at least gets some things right. They still

seek ultimate reality by examining smaller

and smaller things…larger and larger things,

when everything is here, right under our noses,

but, who takes the time to examine that? 

Buddhists do, that’s all we do: Terminators

of all the myths until all that’s left is space.

“Spaces-Are-Us” is an empty store,

another Buddhist joke, that’s two.

I’ve got forever to become a comedian.