Hey, Buddha
I’d like to know
what’s that smile for?
what you smiling about?
there’s so much pain
and tension and conflict in the world
and so much loneliness
and so I don’t see cause for a smile

I see you cross-legged
in the gardens and on shelves
and in the pictures
and I see you at the Thai restaurant
and always you have that smile
so Hey, Mr Buddha -
what’s that smile for?
is there any reason why you should smile
when it’s a struggle down here?
I don't mean to be rude
but just tell me:
what’s there to be smiling about?


given the times
maybe an expression of agony
like Christ on the Cross
might be more apt;
or maybe if you were more
like the Abstract Prophet -
no images allowed -
might have been a better
way for you, considering indefinable nirvana
and all that

instead you smile
and perhaps you spawned a tribe of them:
like the laughing Chinese Buddha
whose bellies people rub for good luck;
and all those ancient Chinese sages
eccentric and laughing like the world’s a fun camp;
and that Kuan Yin, that bodhisattva,
who seems a female version of you
she’s smiling always too
though she hears the cries of all sentient beings


so tell it straight
is that smile really necessary
do you think
or is it just some ancient unknown Leonardo’s
chisel cut everyone who makes you
just repeats?
Hey, Buddha
always smiling
what’s that smile for?
what you smiling about, Mr Buddha?

Normality cursed me upon open eyes,
I enjoyed the lucid madness, as what
Was seen in the maddening times that
Was better to the normality of  boring now.

I used to chase the florescent thoughts
That floated around, giggling at the touch
As it tickled senses in my deepest doors.
She danced with me in imaginary dance.

I was like a bunny jumping, swaying around
Giggling to ones self for invisible feet would
I be standing upon, never realizing I was tripping
Over my own size tens, what a humours trip.

Madness is an inviting friend, alone, but so many
Voices around madness has its purpose, as I have
Thoughts not my own, I laugh, at incoherent  moments
Are they mine, there's, or yours never alone.

an infinity of predestined roles
an inclusive experience in totality
as every fiber, thread, and patch
in the quilt of being that is god

serial embodiment in all matter
animal, vegetable, and mineral
earth, atmosphere, and aether
purposeful suffering and solitude

new souls emerging from the cycle
comprehensive awareness fulfilled
a nebula of creative expansion
from a supernova of spirituality

novices grasping for comprehension
floundering with loving compassion
welling tears of confused recognition
from a source of obscured recollection

collective consciousness in transformation
the cumulative effect of genuine connection
to appreciate the strength of a star
to respect the divinity of a weakness

I stare at the ceiling
In a hotel room
In Duluth.

I wonder if
I will ever have a book
That finds its home
On shelves
At Barnes and Noble.

I wonder if
Former lovers
Will pick it up
Looking for
The poems I wrote

For them.

When love says --
"Come, dance with me!"
       The beloved dances~~

reality abruptly removed the veil
  realization mercifully provided the light
a binary being seeking his own level
  attempting to rise to the surface of himself

if peaceful existence is based on choice
  then personal dogma tablets need chiseling
if afterlife is fashioned from belief systems
  then intimate mysteries need conceiving

dialogue of a dress rehearsal for an actual life
  faithlessly hidden within lines of complexity
alliterated ambiguously, expressed equivocally
  setting the stage for reincarnation's passion play

an outpour of you,
Creativity, the bird
who lives inside me
and sometimes devours me
but sometimes leaves me helpless.