The old guys
wrote about
the great outdoors
and the beauty of nature,
but, you know,
nature may become
completely inhospitable
sooner than we think,
so I suggest
that we should start
thinking about
the great indoors,
and the beauty of artificiality,
because artificial things
are none other
than nature, transformed,
so maybe
we should go
on adventures
in our own houses
like a modern Thoreau,
who finds the transcendent
in a cup of coffee
or a telephone.

Growing up
in an American house
in the nineteen fifties,
sixties and seventies,
the cheese of choice
was Velveeta,
the processed cheese-type food,
and we cut it
with a cheese slicer,
which was a thing
with a handle
and a wire
and a roller,
and my mother
would make us
grilled cheese sandwiches,
which she called
cheese toastwiches,
and the molten goo
would spill out
unto the plate
as we were eating one,
and this traditional cheese
seemed to start
in the days
of the little red metal pedal car
and end in the days
of being drunk and high
at two in the morning
watching Eddie Constantine movies,
and so the cheese
has changed
and it is now
mozzarella.

So I'm sitting here
in my space
and it really is space,
outer space,
and if I listen to it,
it sounds
like the spaceship
which it is,
and since
I have unplugged
the television
and turned off
the radio,
I can hear
the unusual sounds
of this unearthly, earthly spaceship
humming,
and when I listen closely
I can hear
the hum and high-pitched hiss
of my brain
and nervous system,
as I go traveling outward
into the vastness
of the universe
in this spaceship
called my house
in the suburbs.

I turn on one electric light
usually
to see in the dark
and no electric lights
in the daytime,
because I try
not to waste energy
and natural resources,
because they are precious,
so I recycle
as much as I can
and I take cloth bags
to stores,
and I turn off
and even unplug
almost everything
in the house,
and I use
as little water
as I can,
but, you know,
sometimes
I just say ***** it
to conservation
and throw stuff away,
because it's not good
to get stuck
in some ****
philosophy.

Here's how I think
that life goes -
the first moment
of conception
is like a cycle
of the four seasons,
spring, summer, autumn, winter,
or like the cycle
of the moon,
or like the cycle
of a wave,
attack, sustain, decay, release,
or like the cycle
of the turning earth
in a day,
so this moment
cycles and recycles
and grows and grows
into an entire life,
and I think
the whole universe
operates this way,
of course
I could be wrong.

So there are
heterosexuals
and there are
homosexuals
and there are
bisexuals
and even
metrosexuals,
but I am
unisexual,
so I married myself
quite awhile ago
and me and me
have been having
a wonderful love life
ever since,
so I don't *******
very often,
and I hardly ever
*******,
so what I do
is to visualize ***
with myself,
who is a beautiful woman
inside
and who are four beautiful men
floating around me,
and then there is
this kind of around the world ***
that is a massive kundalinigasm
which is like a trip
to Mars,
so unisexuality
is my *** of choice,
but as you probably have guessed,
it's not for everyone.

When I was a kid,
I was in a group
of other kids,
called Indian Guides,
and it was a bunch
of suburban Dads
with their suburban children,
playing at being
Native Americans,
so I thought
that it was a Mickey Mouse
organization,
but now
that I am sixty years old,
I have gotten back
to playing
Native American,
by playing
authentic musical instruments
in my own way
and singing and dancing
in my own way
and saying a poem
in the early morning
to the Great Spirit,
so I may be
a phony,
but it does something
to me
that is moving
and peaceful.