After awhile
while studying Zen,
I began having visions
inside
of past lives,
or so I think
and these visions
are the same kind
of dreams
that I have
if I think back
a few hours ago,
so in this stage
I can get
extremely depressed
because the illusions
that I see
are so horrific,
like torture,
and being murdered,
and having my arms and legs
blown off,
but the cool thing
about this stage,
is that after the depression ends,
I feel much better
and relieved
that it's not happening
now.

What is important
is not the *******,
but the way,
not the rewards
but the trip,
so my journey
was directed
toward something
that we call
enlightenment,
which I thought
was some kind
of head explosion,
but that scared me,
so while I desired
enlightenment,
I also thought
that it probably
would **** me,
so my journey
has been an up and down
kind of trip,
and even at its worst,
I was still here!

So, for breakfast
I had
raw broccoli,
spanish olives,
nuts and berries
and my daily bread
among other things,
so I think
that anything goes
when eating,
except that some food
is poison
and some food
is so good for you,
it is thought,
that you can go
a little crazy
about health food
like that,
so my suggestion
is to eat
what you're hungry for,
and a good way
to find out
is to look
at your belly,
because the belly
knows.

So while
"Gate, Gate,
Paragate,
Parasamgate,
Bodhi,
Svaha!"
is the Great Dharani
and the Radiant Supreme Mantram,
we must also
keep in mind
The Lesser Dharani
of
"Oo Ee
Oo Ah Ah
Ting Tang
Walla Walla Bing Bang"
and also meditate
on the Lesser Mantram
of
"Ohwah
Tagoo
Siam"
and always remember
that us poets
are all enlightened
because we know
the sound
of one hand clapping
because
we always seem
to hear it
when we read aloud
at poetry readings.

There is a quiet way
to work out
our craziness.
It's an inside job.
It can be done
with thought
and other expressions
of mind.
One way
to deal
with the madness
is by writing a poem.
Another way
to deal
with the madness
is by being a poem.
Here it is.

This morning
I was outside
sitting
and I thought
that I would do
a few dances,
so the first one
in the back yard
was a dance
to Pushan,
the god of the sun,
but I don't know
if there is any such thing
as a god of the sun,
so I bowed
toward the east
and with my Pushan mudra
began to wave my arms around
in some sort of Tai Chi thing
and walk around,
so then there was
the water dance
and the earth dance,
and finally,
I decided
to do a *** dance
to the woman inside of me,
so with my hands in a mudra
in front of my chest,
I waved around
a little more,
and I must have looked
like some kind of nut case
to the neighbors,
but it's alright
because they already know
that I am.

I come to this blank screen
without any conscious knowledge
about how to write this,
but I have
a sneaking feeling
that I already do know
exactly what to do,
and it's like meditation,
when you start
to meditate,
even if you've done it
a million times,
I always get the notion
that I don't know how
to do it,
but then I go ahead
and do it,
so this poetry racket
is the same thing,
I just sit here
and write it
even though I don't know how,
because actually
I do,
or maybe I don't,
you decide.

This room has a wicker plate with plastic flowers on the wall.
The new computer screen is bright.
Outside this room, it is raining.
This room smells like smoke.
The telephone has ***** fingerprints on it.
There is a long green desk in this room.
The lamp has an orange light bulb.
A piece of paper has numbers of the cycles per second of a circle of fifths.
There is a yellow ottoman with pillows and pieces of blank paper on it.
In this room, on the floor, are wires.
The altar has two orchids.
One orchid was for my dead father.
The other orchid is for my dead mother.
A funky fat Buddha sits close beside them.

I have learned
a good lesson
now, in my later years,
about restraining myself,
and I didn't know
that it was a good thing
to do
when I was younger
and thought
that to go wild
was the best thing,
so I know
that tightening my belt
is painful,
and I like my belly
to be loose,
but holding back
when I want something
or stopping
when it gets too wrong
is an excellent way
that makes me
happier
than going wild
which is only
an illusion
of being
free.

At the Buddha's birthday celebration,
I held my plateful of food
and sat down
at a table
with an odd man,
who said he was an engineer,
and that he
was looking around
for chicks,
so the Zen priest
pointed out
that he had
an enormous pile
of food
on two plates
in front of him,
and then
a young woman
sat down
at our table,
and he proceeded
to hit on her
by trying to impress her
with his intelligence,
and I wondered
if she might have been thinking,
"Who's this *******?",
but I kept my mouth shut.

So a little kid
was searching around
the crowded metaphysical bookshop
and he had
an old unplugged telephone
that didn't work,
so he asked
the lady,
"What's this?"
and she said,
"A cord"
so he asked,
"What does that mean?"
and she tried
to explain,
so he asked,
"What do you mean,
connection?"
and she tried
to explain,
so he asked,
"What do you mean,
plugged in, inside?"
and she tried
to explain,
so I rang
a bunch of small cymbals
that were attached
to the chair
that I was sitting on,
and the little kid
put the telephone
down.

A pleasant May fifth
was the day that my mother
lay dead in her bed.

Time is an illusion
of the motion
of objects in space,
and the past
is a record
of the motion
of objects in space,
so the present moment
is not a moment,
it is eternity,
therefore time does not exist,
and growth
is a function
of the motion
of objects in space,
and these objects
are mass
which is none other
than energy,
and no energy
can leave space,
and death is only
transformation of energy,
and all mass/energy
is life,
and all mass/energy
is neither natural
nor artificial,
as these are only
thought constructions,
so everything is alive,
therefore,
welcome to eternal life.

I was getting
a pillow
for my mom
who is in hospice care
and as I went
I bashed my knee
on a piece of furniture
so hard
that I had to sit down
and moan in pain
and later
it became red
and probably will
develop a bad bruise
so my practices,
many of which
I do standing up
and dancing,
had to be changed,
so I tried the new way
of doing them
sitting on a chair
and to my surprise
I thought they were better,
so once again
it has been shown to me
that accidents
and unintentional occurances
sometimes
are the best things
that can happen.

Buddhism likes to think
that we are basically good
and Christianity
likes to think
that we are basically bad
so I think
that we are neither good
nor not good
and that we
are beyond all that,
and sometimes
I think
that everybody
has the Buddha nature,
and sometimes
I think
that everybody
has the ******* nature,
but it strikes me
that good or bad
are just in our heads
so don't forget
to clean it out
once in awhile!

A Zen teacher
once said
in a lecture
that a full bottle
of water
doesn't make
a noise
if shook,
but a bottle
with a little water
makes a big noise
if shook,
so I took
an old bottle
and put
a small amount
of water in it,
then went down
to the basement
and recorded
a waltz
with my water shaker,
and it's pretty
funny.

A priest
said that
because I saved
a bunch of ants
I could be
a poet
and she saw that
in my face
and I paint
a couple of faces
every day
and my koan
was what did my face
look like
before my parents
were born?
and I can't see
my face
and I used
to have terrible zits
and I felt their pain
so now, looking at
my face
from inside here
it feels like
it's concentrating
on this.

I was in an interview
with a Zen master,
who demonstrated
his practice,
and his breathing
was so deep and long
that I thought
I couldn't possibly keep up,
so I tried
and succeeded
one time
and ran completely out
of breath,
so he told me
to practice strongly,
and I did
for years,
trying harder and harder
to get that deep kind
of breath,
until I finally realized
that actually,
for me,
a little breath,
a small gentle kind
of breathing
is much better
for me,
so I decided
to go with that,
and said,
"**** the Zen master."

In the basement,
I dance
the five animals
every day,
and one
of the animals
is a bird,
so I become
something like
a grackle
with its purple head,
and soar
in the mind
as I am walking
in a figure eight
around a small area
with my arms outstretched,
and this exercise
is an trip to wonder land
for me
and it's good
for the old ticker
which could use
some help.

So, the window
is open
and a lawnmower
is speaking
in mechanical tongues
as the weather
in early spring
is warm and nice
and the birds
are, you know,
well, birds,
and a friend told me
a long time ago
that Detroit
could be completely underwater
in the future,
so even though that bothers me

I guess it's OK.

A doctor told me
to smack the bed
with a tennis racket,
and when I was young
I beat up
my stuffed dog,
and when I got older
I attacked the trees
in the back yard,
so now in my late middle years
I hit the chair
three times
and then bow to it.

Music talks to me
and it bugs me
sometimes
because the message
is not so great,
but sound
doesn't say anything
and I listen
a lot
to the noise
of the world
that, to me,
sounds like music,
but the radio
plays music
that talks
and the message
is not all that great,

(but I love it anyway).

It's a drug
like medicine
and I get
side effects
like tiredness
and angry thoughts
and little bits
get stuck
between my teeth
so I have to go
upstairs
and floss
and after I eat
I always seem
to feel
the need to sleep
which I often do
even as I used to
when I worked
but it's necessary stuff
to have every day
so I think
that in a few minutes
I will go downstairs
and have a pickle.

I just watched a short film
of flowers
in fast motion
and I decided
that flowers try, too,
and that they struggle
and toil
like we all do,
and I like to reconsider
what the holy men
have said,
because maybe
they were wrong
and just saying things
like we all do,
and I like to doubt
the holy books
because they might be wrong
and just saying
old, handed-down garbage
or maybe not,
so I reconsidered the lilies
and found that they do indeed
toil and spin,
and they do dress nicely.

When I was a kid,
my mother
was pouring milk
and she said to me,
"Say when"
and I had no idea
what she meant by that,
but as the milk rose,
I just said, "When",
and she stopped,
so this began
a lifetime
of not knowing
when to say when,
because there is no marker
about when to stop,
so after much work
and struggle,
I found out
that I can say stop
at any time,
and I think
the sooner, the better
for many things,
and I found out
that I don't have to say stop
to many other things,
so then
up comes the other aspect of mind
called the start mind,
and that's a whole different animal
altogether.

The Zen master
addressed the gathered group
and said,
"You don't know anything."
and one of the students replied,
"What do you mean,
we don't know anything?"
and the master
was silent
and appeared puzzled,
so I now know
what the master means
by not knowing anything,
because at any given moment
I don't know a thing
and knowing for sure
is so difficult
that nobody probably does
know anything,
but I can also understand
the student's response,
because of course,
I know all about
this here and now,
or so I think,
so like me right now,
the master was silent
and puzzled,
because probably
he knew nothing.

When studying Zen
in Minneapolis,
the Roshi
referred to mind
as a monkey,
but later
in Ann Arbor,
Sunim
referred to mind
as Buddha,
so,
since I like monkeys
and think they are Buddhas, too,
I love the mind,
even if it can be
a pain in the ***, sometimes.

My mother
was born
twenty-seven years
before I was,
so is that
ahead of me,
or is that
behind me,
so me
being younger
come later
in the sceme of things
so that makes me older,
or does it?

The anti-way is well portrayed
on the cathode ray tube
plugged into millions
who let it pour
into their tired brains,
so for awhile,
like two minutes,
I turn it on
to find out
what the hell
it thinks,
and there are murders
and happy salesman
and bigfoot
and pictures of Jamaica
so I say,
"Oh...that's what
it's about..."

About twenty years or so ago
I decided to apply myself
and work dilligently
at creating a life for myself
in the Arts
so I began working hard
day after day after day
every day
and every night
toiling at creating
my works of many differing arts
every day working eighteen or nineteen
hours a day

and now, twenty or so years later
I have found
that I have worked my way
right straight
to the bottom!
You can do it too
if you work hard
and apply yourself!

So I was in New York City
and I was depressed,
not because I was such a success
and had so much money,
but because the stress
that was on me
was so unbearable
that I wanted to die,
so I stepped inside
the front door
of the Empire State Building
and climbed every flight of stairs
up to the top
where I walked over
to the edge
and knew this was my time
and I executed
a perfect swan dive
off the roof,
but then, as soon as I was flying
I decided that actually
I wanted to stay alive,
that I had a lot to live for,
so in a panic
I cried out
to the Great Fairy Godmother Savior In The Sky
to save me,
and instantly
a feeling came over me
that I had to throw up,
so, puking,
up came two shiny metal springs
which I attached to the top of my head
and then I hit the sidewalk and
BOING
up I bounced
all the way up
to the top of the Empire State Building,
where in a gentle arc
I landed,
and was so happy
that I began to laugh
and the laughter became more and more
uncontrollable,
so much so
that I fell over on to my back
where I had
a heart attack
and died,
so the moral is -
"Somethins Gonna *** Ya".

I am sitting here
writing what I feel
like writing
so I will write
that I love everything
I think
and it's because
I brainwash myself
with my silly religion
every day
so that I will love everything
I think
so I am sitting here
loving everything
and everybody
I think
and I'm writing

about it.

This morning
I was preparing
to photograph
something
so I got the idea
of taking
a random photograph
of right where I
was sitting
and this
is the idea
of creating
without any idea
even though
there was
an idea.
The ideas come
to us people
even if

we don't particularly

want them.

When I was about
five years old,
I was sitting
on a swing,
depressed,
because there
was nothing fun
to do,
so I asked my mom,
"Mom, what's there to do?"
and she said back,
"Go clean your room."
but I didn't want to do that
because that was no fun
so I just sat there longer,
depressed and restless,
and so begins
a lifetime
of low restlessness,
until tonight
when I have uncovered
the secret answer,

and that is
that when I don't feel
like I know what to do
and it seems like
there's nothing to do,
I sit down
in a chair
and in my case,
I think and smoke,
to entertain myself,
and then
I wait
until the one right special thought
occurs to me
about the one right fun thing
to do,
and then I go do it,
and this seems like an obvious simple understanding
but there really is something deeper to it,
like that it is the cure
for my entire problem,
and maybe other's problems,
too.

My music
is spontaneous
and comes
from the instant
that it takes place
often without
any ideas
at all
so I am sitting
typing at the keyboard
playing little clicking tones
on my qwerty piano
writing about
nothing in particular
only this music
in its current score form
that documents
a person's existence
like this guy
here.

Part of this mind
is furiously angry
and part of this mind
is extremely kind
and this is a condition
which applies
to my whole family
and I have been struggling
to control the anger
by letting it be
and I have been practicing
to bring out the kindness
by being right here with us
so the dual nature
of the split mind

is non-existent
in this suchness
which doesn't have
to be silent,
only loving.

When I was really suffering
and I mean really suffering
I was lying in bed
like Brian Wilson
watching Pat ******* Robertson
and the ******* PTL Club
asking for help
from Jesus and God
and Buddha and Dharma
and Sangha and Shiva
and every other ******* god
or whatever there was or is
and they all
just made things worse
so do you know
what got me through it all
no, it wasn't the psychiatrists
or mom or dad
or brother or sister
or friends
or any of the above
all I had
to get me through
this ******* torture
was
cigarettes
yes
my holy smokes
and now
tobacco is an endangered species
but I'm ready
with my pipe
and a lifetime supply
of tobacco
so bring on
the cigarette enemies
because I think
I'll have a smoke -
Ahhh.

I was sitting
outside of my house
years ago,
thinking about a sad song called,
"Can't Find My Way Home",
and I felt homesick
even though
I was sitting there
at home,
so here are some ideas
about home,
and the first is
that home is the place
where I feel I belong,
so that would be
this present moment
right here, right now,
but I usually don't exactly
feel like I belong here now,
so another idea
is that home is where
I am happy all the time,
with peace and love in my life
all the time,
but I usually don't exactly
feel like that is the case at all,
so another idea
is that home is where
I am rich and successful
but I'm certainly not that
and probably won't be
in this lifetime,
so I have another idea
that home is being
with the family,
but I don't exactly
feel quite at home
with the family,
so another idea
is that home is this body/mind
that I live in,
but that place
doesn't feel quite like home either,
so I have this idea
that Buddha was at home
when he realized full enlightenment,
but I don't know,
and I probably won't get there
any time soon,
so I have come
to the conclusion
that there is no home,
like we think of home,
anywhere,
so I guess that makes me
homeless,
like Buddha suggested
that I be.

So my hair
was getting
really long
so I went
to the barber shop
with the lady barbers
and told her
to give me
a businessman's haircut
which I used to call
normal style
and she cut off
most of my hair
and shaved my neck
with a straight razor
and I thought
that it was great
but now
my hair stands up
in the back
so I look like
Alfalfa
(if you remember him)
without the grease.

Sometimes
when I do something
a little less
than good,
the mind
bugs me
with a guilt trip
to ****** land,
and I know
that morality
is a cornerstone
of Buddhism
which I subscribe to,
but the moral, virtuous, pure way
bothers me
as does the chemistry
of the mechanism of the mind
which gives me
this crap.

There is this thing
called losing your mind
that everybody
seems to want to do
and there is this thing
called losing your mind
that nobody
seems to want to do.

He asked me,
"Who is in control
of your smoking?
You or your cigarettes?"
and I thought
that both of us were,
that it is a mutual habit,
that I know
when I am smoking
and when I am about
to light one,
but cigarettes
have this way
of talking you into it,
or is it the mind?

It's a good idea
to make up
your own religion,
but be careful
that you are qualified
by studying
the ones that are
already here,
and it's a good idea
to make up
your own idea
of God or Buddha
or the Universe
or Life
or whatever you love
to love,
so it's a good idea
to reject
whatever jails you
and accept
whatever frees you,
but freedom
has two faces
and one is reckless
and one is serene,
and maybe many more qualities
but not the kind of madness
with invisible shackles
that so many of us have.

They say
that a beginner
has many options,
but an expert
has one or none,
so I joined
a new website
where there
are thousands
of great photographers,
so, inspired by them
I decided
to enroll in Buddha's self-help school
of beginning photography,
and actually
I have never liked
photography as an art form,
until I began studying
and now I am obsessed
by the actions
of my little Kodak
that gives me
such amazing
bad photography.

The poetry editors said
"No vocabulary - No poetry"
so I thought
"Great! I won't use any big words!"
and the poetry editors said
"Don't write poetry that is like a thesis"
so I thought
"Great! I'll write my philosophy!"
and they said
"We only want poetry with beautiful imagery"
so I thought
"Great! I won't write any flowery word pictures!"
and they said
"Be patient with your poetry and don't rush it"
so I thought
"Great! I'll be spontaneous and not edit anything!"
and they said
"Don't write anecdotal poetry"
so I thought
"Great! I'll write little story poems!"
and they said
"No spelling mistakes"
so I thought
"Great! I'll intentionally misspel"
and they said
"Don't write about your ordinary, mundane life"
so I thought
"Great! I'll write about my ordinary, mundane life!"
and they said
"No cliches"
so I thought
"Great! I'd love to use old tired worn-out cliches!"
and they said
"Don't be redundant"
so I thought
"Great!"
and then the Buddhist nuns suggested
that I write formlessly,
so I tried every form
I could think of,
and then the Zen master suggested
that I just write my thoughts,
so that's what I do,
although this is not exactly
how my thoughts go,
so that's how I learned to write poetry
in my personal school
of self-help stupidity!

So they sang
that we paved paradise
and put up a parking lot
but did we really like
living in paradise
with its snakes and bugs
and wild man-eating animals
so instead we have
beautiful Taco Bells
and strip malls
so we should save them
from being turned into trees
and moss
because I am an environmentalist
who thinks that nature should save us
not the other way around
and indoor nature
is to me somewhat preferable
to being outside
in the cold.

So I got
colored light bulbs
for Christmas
and now I am having
interesting lighting
in my subterranean studio
where I do art
and have private parties
so with the radio
on nothing but static
and yellow, blue and red lights
in the darkness
I drink a shot
and go the the pink room
where I *******
until one second to D-Day.

I put on the tea kettle
and turn up the stove
put a tea bag into my cup
and begin walking
in a diagonal direction
with each step
being with each breath
and my hands over
my heart
with my thumb inside
the right hand
so I take a slow walk
and come back to the stove
and the water is ready
then into the cup
goes the water
so then I walk again
twice this time
and the tea is done.
I have given up
the powerful way
of Zen
for the way of Shambhala
where we breathe easy.

I was down
in the basement,
with a bottle of sake,
and I played a CD
with one of my favorite songs
from my teenage years,
so I had a shot of wine
and thought that now
I was old,
and then another song
came on,
that reminded me of ***,
and said that this trip
begins with the girls,
so as I was then
so happy,
on came a song from my youth
which is so solemn and sad
that tears began to form,
and this sadness
became strong
and noble,
so I decided to end
this small but important experience
on this powerful sadness,
and with the last minor chord,
I turned off the CD player,
with no happy ending,
and then I took a ****.

Some people
look for wisdom
in books and the internet
but I have found
that I only find
other's wisdom there
and can't find the wisdom
which I need
so I have discovered
that wisdom is found
in the head
where thoughts
become words
become ideas
and many look
for wisdom in the heart
but that's just a blood pump
and the head
has taken a bad rap
by the Asian religions
and Star Wars
but I believe
in the mind
where I find
wisdom
and even compassion
but I try to remember
to keep the Socratic idea
that I actually don't know anything.