Drinking morning coffee
at night
something makes my brain
split open
and the thoughts
spit out venom
from the reptile mind
about an experience
of peculiar pain
which happened
about forty years ago
and after awhile
it closed up again
leaving its traces
in the form
of sadness
so here I am now
with my broken head
scratching its back.

When I get
in this mood
where I think
"I don't want
to do anything"
all I can seem to do
is stand up
and sit down
while smoking.

Tired body
from too little sleep
with a dream
of freakish animals
and odd men
so I sit uncomfortably
thinking.

Sitting in an old wicker chair
that has an orange pillow
on its seat
I nod
and remember
that this ordinary life
which so many of us
don't really like
is actually nirvana
whatever that is.

Waking up
at ten o'clock at night
I start my fourteen hour morning
depressed and not wanting
to do anything
so I remember
the Zen master's New Year's message
in which he says
"When you're tired and disappointed,
Write a poem."
so here I am.

The right foot
has a wrecked toe
that feels as though
it is broken all through
and as I walk upstairs
the pain says
"How do you do?".

I get so ******
on my religious practices
that I have realized
that religion
really is
the ****** of the people
but it strikes me
that that's just
what I want
is some kind of natural ******
to make me enlightened.