That's him away then.  So, kids,
what do we do now?
No, laddie, don't cry.  We'll find our way.
No-one will write it down,
you may be sure of that,
but no-one will be burnt alive for it -
no nation will be conquered for it -
no vacuous, rudderless culture will claim it at their convenience.

On you go now, boys,
there's work to be done.
We can't all nap under a bodhi tree when it suits us.
Here now, no tears -
here's a kiss for you both.

We'll walk this path together,
real dust rising behind us,
real pain and real joy before us
and we'll maybe find
that attachment's not such a terrible thing
after all.

Ah, the saints and the holy men
and the followers and the Holy Books
Ah, the wise men and those with deep insight
and those who are able to penetrate inner wisdom
(such wisdom as beyond the ken of the masses,
of the ordinary human)
they have declared the Eternal Truth
to the question:
What is better than Eternal Bliss?
Nothing

But O most Wise Seers and Prophets:
Verily, a little pizza is better than nothing -
therefore Pizza is better than Eternal Bliss.


You want a bite?

the world is breathing
a little north of the wide frigid cone, ice and creamy snow off the edges
constantly sighing, for more moist lips, coughing, cracking breaking even
singing gently for its soul to blink lighter
it has a wooden face
each breath creaks it open like a door
it looks straight ahead, everything in its mind, like through paper
no ghost, it breathes along in its path
the world is all functioning at the same time like wind
and when you're sleeping in Minnesota, most of the other Minnesotans are sleeping (or having trouble)
do you know the world is old
it's been doing this a long time
do you know when you're doing the dishes, someone's thinking they should be doing the dishes, and they see it visual in their mind, and you're the visual, which isn't important, but others things like this are
like eating, walking, and being with people who haven't died yet
so when you know this, you're not being selfish anymore
the nose of all the world is breathing
7 billion noses
if all of them looked at the sky at the same time
like the Americans on the fourth of July at night
we could not escape the existence each other.
And the stars and god would quake, shake in their tall knees
they look at our brains, as one in the round ball of the earth
and see it as a muscle
walking, walking, thousands of legs walking
the bulk, the brains the bulk of what's on their paths
their imagination a bulk of what's on their paths.
What if a gun was held to the world's head
It couldn't even die.
because it's so old
the world is a tree, the roots and the sky above
Time is beautiful what it has done
We're never where we want to be
But we're here, and there are 14 billion shoulders in the world
Brains needing less and further words
And there are 7 billion chins, breaths a little north
making a river
how loud it would be if we all breathed in the same room
And there are billions more flowers in the earth
at the same time
a long, long Garden
just kissing the air.
This is how the air has known us from the beginning
For so many people to keep circling in the air
For so many people to be putting breaths into it, kissing it
how he believes in us and wants us to move forward
only having productive thoughts
otherwise he would be suppressing a long, long river
which cannot really ever go back into the ground
our traces are everywhere

me and god ran once, together in the inanimate atmosphere on the spine of the ground
where our feet met the ground a lengthwise bookshelf faced beside
book spirits watching us around their spines, bookmarks
because I'm so a book without legs, since books don't have any
but I'm also a big wild cat away from my eyes with 2 letters in them
so we ran with our lids behind
since they're usually not only around my eyes
they sleep so many things
turn on the dark
and sleep me in a powerful action verb way
and people put garbage lids on god all the time since the christian mouth moved wide and round like a wavy hole
so we ran
until vapors inside us were running too
air running like the wind
animate not inanimate atmosphere
and my temperatue rose high because I was spending instead of falling
spending my atmosphere on the top of a book, where nothing is touching anything because it's air
My air in the air outside of myself over the top of paper
which isn't a place, isn't my head
it's the air, where only if you ran you're spending it
So we ran
and we ate breaktfast a lot
because when I sleep I want freedom like a tree with a sky too medium-high
and that day wasn't a 24-hour day
it's the day that lived in the days off my forehead
because me and god never ran while time happened
time happened first, and then I saw something had run through my soul because there was more air, space across a line from more ground
but I didn't know, like you don't know a movie you didn't see that someone else saw
like you live on the earth and don't know how big it is
like you live in your city and don't know there's a Lunds & Byerly's there, or a cute countryside, or a music concert every Wednesday at a nearby city lake
it was me and god
the air rang more alive because the big elephant in me stomped there with god once in a quick fashion
a big thing running
through my soul
on the earth of my soul
and I recognized the air
because someone else had been there besides me
Have I been to Indiana before? Oh yes, because Dad had to stop there on a trip once
An elephant cat I know was with, oh it wasn't my head
Oh I know Indiana!
I know this place, without my head!
The place where I could not land, so I ran
Dreamed
Silk brown Doing
Is this area, the air that became, because feet ran
That I can't comprehend But I know, because me and god ran once, here
So awake, So wanting to outrun the Air of Doing, And never Do here
So that when we ran though
we'd be doing in the Dark
where I'm never awake
Except, it didn't work
I'm always in my head
But at least about the boundaries I know so sharply – though I've never gone out,
a god and a big cat
have come in
and are in here somewhere

…meow, meow, meow…

nine cats in a boat
and one jumps off
and there’s none left
in the boat in the same instant –
anyone going to ask why?

No, this is no conundrum
in nuclear physics
It’s basic cat life -
they were all copycats

…meow, meow, meow…

The pictures of us
are usually serious and plain
we usually don't have anywhere to go, just home
it's hard to find you, we're distant
but we don't write down our stories like it is and we are
as a child I do weird things over and over
but you laugh, and I hear it because you're the only one ever here
it's so sad they don't think you're alive
because we always do creative things together
and you look at my head
and pause
and just listen
and you choose not to judge me
even though you can
(or I'd hate you)
because you're right here
on the musical steps between us
piano keys, back and forth
they say we're all far, you there and me here, just as the world
the world seems so far- so far- so far from your door
but in the dark room of the world where no one can withstand the darkness yet it's all around
you can be connected with
they say it's not possible
closing is a verb not done, they're closed not opening
the creation of the reality believed
shut shut shut
But they cannot ******
They've made god their slave, they've taped his arms around his torso with concrete
Don't breathe
They've taken away any words he can say because they can't hear
But they haven't taped his eyes because they didn't think he had any
So he blinks
And he walks up and down, the stairs between us
'Distant' is his High school label
He breathes with his nose
And the 'distance' doesn't seperate him from the sky
water is the world, a huge ocean
where what you feel you know
you're always feeling, heavy water the world
your right brain is dominate
the world goes through you
then you leave the world in no possibility, stopped
you shut, shut, not productive
you're missing the sky
the sky is the most open thing
something in there is the freest
no one can shut the sky
anything above
like stars, sun, weather, heaven, god
and anything above can connect to heat
only flying things swim in the sky, feeling it
weird narnian creatures
normal people
fly with their hands
god touches open things
god has made stories with thousands of shut things
god teaches the black boxes on an island since he likes big spaces
god believes in impossibility, not shutting
because boundaries don't have to be permenant
but the stronger they are, they will never float up to the sky
so god lives in no broken glass
he blinks in the dark water of impossibility where no belief kills and kills any belief
we think that the way it is on earth is everywhere and up
but that is shut with a thousand locks
and heaven is in a garden.
who shuts that gate knowing it's boundaries?
you shut a different garden, with a thousand walls
self-proclaimed mayor of a city
and yourself the same way
Because of christian language that did ******
they stole millions of beloveds from god, and threw them back stone
all statues in a garden
unable
with a can or two
an angel on every stair
a personal word waiting in an exotic flower
on the dismembered grave
on the bird in a cage
on the artist in a box
motion quiet in the sacredness of a terrific soul alone
Rain making them colder than on redder skin, bluer stone without dark orange organs
Cold by the flowers
Pianos, better organs than any around, are stepped on like garden stone steps
Between the ground and any stairs up
steps just for unbuttoned sleeves over them
no wire around a wrist
steps for god, carefully quietly
steps for the one brother in the statues
the connection
the one brother of the three that uses his impossible hands to see

You feel the thunder in my life
in the body of my world
you look at my forehead at my mind
you sigh at all the overwhelming pressure
information, words
you shake your brain, oh those Americans
you look at it like shelves, each person a library
you shut the door and say it's dramatic you know.
And the things you tell yourselves to push; the quotes
all the mouths that quoted the first time said what good words
but they're not just for your ears you know
you're a whole being, 80% of your 'body' is below your head
like holistic health providers say, it's not the North where we should go,
East West and South are the everywhere here
Remember your hands
like your grandparents' cooking souls
Remember your feet like your grandparents dancing souls in the 20s, even Catholics (it's true)
Remember the beat, the peaceful instrumental song without a black sea of letters on white, but a sea of movement, feet on a white kitchen floor
Instead of washing your soul in more words
the scribbles were by a full hand, dropping it across an entire shoreline, more water for the ocean
if you could only write in 96-point font, like in an ant's eyes, what could the poor swallow
we write with one of our hands, the tip of a pen a rocketing thing, and I just want an angel to cry on me
Remember Remember like your grandparents whose parents' words or Bible were seperate from a flat flat piece of paper
Hold it, a round thing, that goes in your mind, tangible and sweet
forget that your stomach fills like a penny jar, a mistake
sell the wisdom and buy everything
a pair of blue jeans with 2 pockets
so that you do not fill with pennies, so many words that lose meaning
and then when you sell everything to buy wisdom, your eyes will not be so eager and wide
and you will not be lost in the fortune of quantity

Tomcat has his breakfast
of Mice Krispies
and reads his mewspapers
when Molly comes out with a snarl
in her purr-ple pajamas

she claws him all over
there’s such a caterwauling
and Tomcat emerges bewildered:
What? Why?

She’s upset that all night
her hubby Tomcat
called out for Cat Woman in his sleep
And what do I do with Tomcat
after this Claw Enforcement? thinks Molly
*Oh, just hiss and make up

deleting collections of creativity from the internet

silver and white
it's gone
the flash went while spilling its growth
the more in it graceful as water
it came down carrying what looked like backpacks filled with even more
it's face is a bottomless house of levels
I've been thirsty for the trunk of a tree while it filled my mind
I finally felt bark like the neck beneath the leaves
and now it's the packs watering the streets in shades of silver for discovery
but a broom is sweeping them
since they look like trash
and silver shrunk its glitter after the sky said only he can hold a sea of lights
without having to carry each one
now I love beauty again
it used to be so catching that it would fall deeply against the ground
the rain in snow
the wet dew in and over photographs
sliding everything
but eyes down without music
in one song I am stolen
only one
the visual game is wood that burns by sight
I've spun in circles
But my eyes have slept in a bed not in a palace
Emptied their pockets on the table and my face
after some of the silver tried to form an elephant in my room
it is too much
I got away
and now I love beauty again
it's face used to be a blinding rocket peeling off more space to see
I finally stopped trying to catch up with it and watched it leave
leave me with all what it left me in bags
But a broom came by and is sweeping them around my legs
since most things look dim in the rain

(1)
Shall we join the ladies?

the ones who want to talk about the weather
The whingers, the ones who want to talk about your kids
and who’s got-married to whom...
The powder-appliers and erudite in the latest cosmetics
Old Nennie
who knows the accounts
from 1995 to 2001
and who’s lost it all other years
Young *****
who’s all about her children
And Decrepit Winnie whose children are all Ministers
and grandchildren all Politicians
She Who’s talking about Fat
and who is the Mother of all Fads
and which baby is born in what Esteemed Family
and which is legitimate, and which not

(2)
Shall we join the men?

The lecher, the money man, the one
who’s hot in the latest pants,
the one who’s scratching his crotch
The dandy and the one with ants in his pants
and Catch Up Jack who can tell you who lives where
and who earns how much and whose car is Posh
and who is not worth anything
And Old Joe who can’t let go;
Earnest Man Proper
who answers in farts;
the men who are all sport, who form the Drunken Fans
must gamble
and lay a bet on everything that moves, flies or creeps
whose eyes are roving to the other side;
the man whose religion is to convert
cos he’s so uncertain he must drag others along
And his intellect is false from the start



(3)
*So, shall we?
I rather find my own company pleasant;
besides, I prefer to *******