I danced the seven animals.
Then I danced them backwards.
We are all deluded about the nature of life.
It may be written, it may be being written.
I saw the Great Mountain.
The dead have never left us.
Johnny Carson was on television tonight.

Living in my indigo house
sitting on a straight chair
I find the essential word
which turns me into
a suburban Hawaiian
here in snowy Michigan
and the word that appears
in my indigo mind
means love, compassion and mercy
as well as hello
and as well as goodbye.
Aloha!

The music of the Great Dharani plays in the ether.
As I breathe like a sine wave, the song becomes an essence.
The celestial singers sing a perfect fifth.
Over and over it sings.
Then it changes, to go down through the circle of fifths.
Vocalizing every conceivable note.
Then I come out of my meditation.
The music still plays in the air.

Woke up in some kind of darkness.
Like Dracula was in the house.
Heavy and gothic feeling, drowning me.
So I ate a dill pickle.
That helped, but not enough.
Decided to write a dumb poem about it.
There, there...that's better.

A Tibetan Lama taught me a form of meditation.
I just did it.
When he did it, it just looked like he was sitting.
Just that.
He didn't blink much, but I do.
Later, we had dinner together.
He told me that my spiritual life was not half bad...and not half good.
I agree.
I'll try to improve.

I say
loose/tense/tense/loose
inside
with a high note
and a low note
on my breath
and why
do I do this?
The Great Equality.

As a car drove by, I have nothing to say.
When the hum of the computer is listened to, I have nothing to say.
As the fingers make the clicking sound of keys dancing, I have nothing to say.
When the mind is stuffed with a cloud.
Well, you know.