Saturday, May 30, 2009

Is that what you mean?

like the Cosmos? The Creation, Universe, "life", Being, Ultimate Consciousness, like that?

The man asked the boy.

And the rippling rings on the water's surface spread out

before they broke into song

when the broken hearted people living in the world agree

there will be an answer

sweet rhythm, underlying tenderness

a caress which can't be mistaken for anything but love

Yes father, like that. Something like that.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Doot-in' doo-doo. A feeling

"Everyone gets to where they're going,"
is what the voice said to me.
"Really?" I questioned back
such a strange thought at the moment to be.

Then the logic offered an assist
"Where else will they get to?"
for surely you'll see
it is impossible for them to get to where they're not
where you are is where you are,
On that point wouldn't you agree?

What a relief. What sublime rest in
simplicity of that suchness
that I repose there now with total acceptance
that what awaits me too, will come, so I'll rush less

Will the fish be biting today?
or will the bike trail sing along
kicking down the cobble stones
looking for fun and feeling...
Like Paul Simon

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Come Again

(My mom showed me this, I had written in 86)

Looking out across the wind,
I smell you not hear me.
Reaching out beneath the breeze,
I taste you not feeling.

Come again, come again
A song that can't be sung
Cry no more, then be gone
or come again.

Having you having me
was better than times gone bad.
But missing you is gone time.
Good and gone this time.

Come again, come again.
A heart that can't be won
Cry no more, then be gone
or come again.

Just put a nickel in
for every nicket out.
I'm richer without you
But nickel out or nickel in
I'll come again.

Come again, come again.
A light that should be shown.
Cry no more, then be gone
or come again.

Friday, May 22, 2009

The Oath of Spoonship

Besides you,
draped in my arms,
in this morning’s embrace,
I held the awareness
of our flowing architecture--symmetry of the Tao
The yin of you becoming the yang of me
and my yang defining your yin
A dance,
held in suspension,
like the pause between our breath

We woke as two almonds in one husk
without even a membrane between us
The elastic wrappers of our skin were just symbols
A reminder that until we return to this

we carry each other’s touch as a second halo of protection

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Honeysuckle Days

delicate bells and tassles of fresh honeysuckle

adorn the bush row

and bouncing grey-brown bunnies

nibble at fallen flowers

we celebrate with deep breaths

of sweet, fruit like nectar--yum

the sun has returned to the Eastern sky

and robins are fat with eggs

and a worm bonanza from

extended April showers, and showers, and showers

evening comes like a slow dance of pregnant memories

whispering, rest and wishing

for more of the same

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

You Don't Have to Decide

I love them by a measure greater than a spoonful
those boys who asked, "Did you ever have to make up your mind?"
To say yes to one and let the other one ride,
wow, there are so many changes
and yes, tears to be hidden
in a decision of one choice to find

Joking aside,
no blond haired dates to consider
have you ever put one philosophy or religion to scale
one to another? Tit for a tat?
Muslims follow Mohamed, Christians like a Jew
Have they said yes to one and let the other one ride?
Judging by arms sales, yeah, that's the tale.

This is The Book of God, they both say,
no room for the rest, the copyright is fixed
hmmm, I wonder--have they met Whitman?
or does the music of either measure up to Mozart?
Who produced the movie QURAN, Truffeau, Fellini?
oops, they came later--darn!

Sing to me with the voice of Rumi
not on Sunday morning like some grotesque slob protesting from his stage
of why the world is so perverse, when it appears to me he has
no understanding of his own sacred internal biology!
For him I say--no Pearls!

Move me like Close Encounters
with an understanding that something flew over
and now Daddy is making mountains with his mashed potatoes
and it is scary because he KNOWS he shares a common vision
with a handful of fellow warriors

And let us leave the last chapters open for an evolving God
who forgot to talk about the divine feminine
but now is a cross dresser himself and a member of Greenpeace!

You Don't Have to Decide, fellow potato artist
love your God with all your heart but keep your dance card open

Monday, May 18, 2009

Anybody Home?

For unless you are as the little children

you can not enter the kingdom of heaven...

Riley and Michael, my grand twins

they are my model to immitate

For Heaven's Sake? Nah, for theirs

Why? Because the sound of their laugh

is music as sweet as Mozart's refrain

and they're entertained by my surprise reverse

First I'm this. But then when I'm that. They laugh.

So I am as the little children

Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven's Door

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Excess Baggage

"Where shall I put this?" asks the porter.

Who is wise enough to advise that it be totally dispensed of?

Jeez, where do we get all this crap?

My home is so beautiful, and never will I forget to

praise the excellent taste of the Angel Anne

whom all the other Angels exult

but do I own it really? Like the mystic of Nazareth

"Can you add an inch to your heighth?"

and those titles and awards and any accomplishment

even your relationships with the most precious of loved ones,

do we own them?

certainly we can appreciate them, especially in the moment

but what lingers?

As far as things go, there is nothing we own as any real extension

to ourselves. And who can harm you? Caesar? What is the worst he can do?

Kill you? But are you harmed in that transaction. Have you been touched?

Only if you let yourself. Naturally your body has been changed. Duh,

"you're dead dude." But the you of you or the consciousness of you--

hmmm, the debate will be unending won't it?

I say no though. You are free of your body.

So what do we own? The decision to be affected by things.

You own that decision. The anger and grief and fear and worry--

those you own, until you release them.

It seems to me we only own one thing. Behavior.

In my case, which is most often misbehavior.

But what about that misbehavior as a memory?

Has it become guilt? Has it become worry? Does it create fear?

Is it real? In a sense yes.

Perhaps best to put it in its place.

Ah yes. Let it rest there and I will rest


Saturday, May 16, 2009


we laughed a lot and then we were freaks

Jesus talked. We listened. Then? We went to different

Midlife crisis schools, but somehow lived in the same dorm.

DaVinci Code? You kidding, child's play compared to Gary's story

Ah, to have what he has, the magic pill. It will cost you. Literally.

There's a Donovan song

Happiness Runs...finally a rhyme!

You can have EVERYTHING if you let yourself be.

He meant -GO. As in let go of self.

Oh yes, the work. But the roots have been transplanted. His flight is...

well, I gasp for air.

We're grandpa's. The Flying Grand Dads.

Wish us well.

Warm Compost

I'll cusp this feeling like leaves and aged compost

in the bowl of my hands and swish, I'm away in a dream...

what is that vague contentment on the fringe of my existence?

it tingles

an ah or an mmmmm

things disappear

How did it work? The trumpets brought down the walls...

How? The vibration agitated the mortar

and like those electric football fields

the zzzzz finally slipped the discs?

this quiet is the only place I can connect my toes to my knees

There's that zzzz zzzz vibe, where am I in here

roughly in some area behind my eyes, but wait...

try as I will to be in my abdomen

the addiction to stay latched to the lens...

such determination!

Have you watched the skinny bending little blade of grass

push through the asphalt? That little fuck.

How did he do it?

so it isn't me but my awareness I move around inside the tissue,

like those Jules Verne explorers in some tricked out mini sub

but not through the lens of my eyes...then what?

so it wasn't me all that time playing with the telescope or the microscope, but who? You?

and the sensation is a feeling...a buzz

Luuuuuke, I'm your faaaaaather

nggggg mmmmm ahhhhh

now a song

How much is that doggy in the window

just be. There's nothing else to do.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

The Beat Go's On

No soggy blog, no lost salute, just me and you. Bon Jour.
No time to spare, no where to go, you say goodbye, I say for sure.
His gently weeping guitar gasped.
Released upon us as a gift like Emerson or Monet,

it is hard to see the Quarry for the men (boys).
They were there. But swallow them whole
without the math of division--Jean-Paul Harrison Ritchie.
Not a note has changed across the universe.

All you need is all you need is...
Your lungs. Release grief from your lungs. Did you know?
Breathe. Precious breath. Bated? Be careful. Breathe.
Have we found the uninterupted serpent swallowing its tail? Yes.
Do we remember? Sometimes. Does it matter. Yes.
Do we need to hurry?
Certainly. No.
Isn't it amazing, the playfulness of God? What a prankster.