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Why do poets
seem to know me
when they don't know me
at all
and so we say
how much we love
each other
but we're looking
at a computer
and I love
the computer
and I love you
I guess
but I don't know
who the heck you are.
I have a blockage
in my head
caused by an old broken nose
so it creates
a headache
that neither helps
nor hinders
and when life
presents an obstacle
I go around it
by just paying.
Young people
really feel
a lot of pain
as do older people
who have more time
to get used to it,
and I have found
that I always hurt
and the best I can do
is to sit in a chair,
even sleep
is painful
and I think
that everybody else
and even maybe
everything else
has this kind of pain,
like the fly
in the basement
probably has
arthritis,
and a Zen master
once said
"Even if you get
to the very bottom
of Zen meditation,
there is still
suffering"
so oh well,
no pain,
no something or other.
I have a hunch
that it is eternal
and infinite
although I don't
know it
and I have contemplated
these things
deeply
and when I do
I get frightened
so there is big eternity
and big infinity
and there is small eternity
and small infinity
and what is so surprising
is that we
are all part of it
and are it
so I can say
that me sitting here
in a suburb
of Detroit
is eternal and infinite
and that's
far out.
After coffee
I do seven practices
which are short
like "Lifting The Sky"
and "Carrying The Moon"
and "Tapping"
and "Nianjuli"
and "The Opera Singer's Warm-up"
and "Yoga/Zen/Reflexology/Chi Kung"
and "The Tune Up"
and then I finish off
by meditating
healing vibrations
toward the tumor
in my crotch
which I won't let
the doctors touch.
Buddha tells us
not to get into
interpreting dreams
so in a dream
my dead father
told me to go
to the post office
at nine in the morning
for something
that was sent
by planned parenthood
and I got
a free laptop.
Devo says,
"We must repeat"
and so it goes
day in and day out
same old, same old
but we know better
actually
because change occurs
moment by moment
and everything
changes,
although it seems
the same.
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