Relaxed, now,
after a morning
of a mind trip
which was
a bunch of thoughts
taking me in a very wrong direction,
thoughts which were trying
to get me to give up,
but it occured to me,
suddenly,
that a cleansing of the mind
was needed
so instead of giving up,
I did my thing!

I hear voices in my head
which is just thought electro-chemistry
but which talks to me
as though they were people
and today I have figured
that what they are
are the same people
who appear in my dreams
the dream people
who can be anyone
and are not real
but only illusory people.

Sometimes the thoughts
push me furiously
but I love them anyway.

Sometimes the thoughts
bother me
but I love them anyway.

Mind is Buddha.
Buddha is empty.
All thinking bubbles up
from this emptiness.

The nose is followed
because one can hear
its silent knowledge.

The future will be just like this
except different
like it always has been.

Sometimes I'm the boss
and sometimes he's the boss
so we get along pretty good
and sometimes we're both bosses
and sometimes neither of us
are bosses so everything
is just peachy.

It seems to me
that the state of existence
is the state of
sick/well
and that suffering
is forever
and that health
is forever
and that there is no escape
from either.
The trick is to be content
by accepting both, simultaneously.

So it's back to the first formal practice
done for the first time forty years ago
which I invented without knowing anything
that brought about a big kaboom experience
and started my whole Zen trip or so I thought
so I just sit and watch my blinking
and nothing happens except being in being
and sometimes I even chant Om
like the world seems to like to make fun of
and I do have fun with this spiritual stuff
that actually probably is nothing to get
too shook up about.

Sitting in a black vinyl chair,
I put my hands one on top
of the other,
and breathe deeply
while reciting inside
six precious words
which empty my mind
as I become being itself
just sitting there
in a black vinyl chair.

If I were named Violet,
would I still smell as much?
If my name was Phil,
would I stink so sweet?
I am the poet, Herbert, or
Isit? My real false name
Isearl. Of course, not.
My real name is
then tooth bone foodair
soaked tin watch Bag-O-Soul
outin now.
I could change names
if I wanted to
but I am afraid
of lawyers and you.

This present, perfect moment
is the end of eternity
and the beginning of eternity
at the same time.
That's why we say
that ordinary, everyday life
is the great way.
Nobody seems to believe it.

Summer meant
swimming and no school
but now it means
burning alive
outside
so I hibernate
indoors
in this air-conditioned house.

The war
between the lilies
and the Jack Daniels
is mounting
with death and life
in a struggle
and the lilies
are poisoning me
with beauty
as I drink
the Jack Daniels
to end in misery
so the struggle
continues.

Mind/body energy should
not have an outflow
and should not have
an inflow, if we are to maintain
our peace of mind,
but we must breathe
and we must think
most of the time,
so care is needed
to make sure that our energies
do not create trouble.

Here in the suburban nature of things
I sit in paradise, not seen that way by others,
and contemplate the wondrous weather
of this moment in summer
when, a few minutes ago, I was on the front porch
just sitting on a flowered chair
but inside the energy of kundalini
was streaming through my body/mind
in an explosive thrill of ecstatic feeling
as I was drinking coffee, quietly.

The birds outside
are musical
and noisy
as is
the television
in this world
where there
is always sound
unless we
can find
the bottom of it
where there
is no sound.

John Cage once told me that a crossroads was where he came to where he had to do a decision about whether to go in the direction of what he intended or in the direction of what he didn't intend and that he decided to go in the direction of what he didn't intend.
I was going to have great northern beans.
I instead ate kidney beans.
The not-doing of this doing that I am doing is always present.
See, I am resting while I am not resting.

I was washing
my hair
in the bathroom
when the secret code
revealed itself
to me
that we are off
and on
at the same time
dead while alive
alive while dead
nothing/everything
everything/nothing
so I shaved.

I proposed
in my mind
to Kwanseum Bosal
the Bodhisattva
of Great Compassion
so a little while ago
I had a dream
where I was to go
to my wedding
but I didn't want
to go
so today
I switched around
my Buddhist altars
to give Kwanseum Bosal
a permanent altar
of her own
and I decided
instead of marrying her
I would worship her.

In high school
I saw the pretty girls
and felt like
I was starving for them
as though I were
without water
and those girls
were the ones
who I felt were impossible
to even say hi to
and then along came
a girl
who I was not even attracted to
who instantly seduced me
and away we went
but it went very wrong
and I wound up
a broken, angry kid
starting off all wrong
like usual.

Back about thirty five years ago
I had the experience
of completely shutting off
this mind
and I thought later
that I had nearly died
and that it was an awful thing
but now
in my later years
I see that it was not so awful
but was actually a wonderful event
which now I practice
(although much more gently).

So somebody and I
were walking down my street
in the slush and the snow
and I noticed that the sun
was traveling the wrong way
so I realized that this was a dream
and I said to the person
"Don't worry about the slush,
it's not real...this is a dream"
and then I decided to fly
as I like to in dreams
when I am awake
and I taught the man with me
to fly and I said "Watch out
for the trees!" and he ran
into one, so we landed
and I thought about
walking through walls
so I approached a house
and tried to walk through
but couldn't, because
I saw that the house
was a painting on canvas.

Taking the morning off
I get to work
on this creation
because the nine
to five existence
is some life
which I think
I can't do
so I don't do it.

Noisy, talking brain
is actually the same
as quiet, still mind
so I can quit worrying
about quieting the thoughts.

Eight minutes
after four
in the morning
and I have accomplished
my nine practices
designed for
the mind, body,
and spirit
so now comes
the daily chore
or trying to find
things to do.

I was at a Zen temple
where there was a person
with a shaved head
wearing a robe
and I couldn't tell
if it was a man or a woman.

Numerology disturbs
my fragile mind
with its meanings
of numbers
which I think
have no real meaning
or use as symbols
or signs
and I seem to have
a built-in bent
ingrained in my head
toward assigning
definitions of meanings
to these homogeneous numbers
even though
my conscious mind
rebels at the thought
so, you know,
when some
sign of a monster
comes popping up
into my life
I get a bit
of a freak-out twinge
but, I know,
nothing ever happens.

The first thought
is the enlightened one
and the second thought
is the Buddha one
and both are bothered
by doubts
so I don't know
which thought to follow

And Bob Dylan sang
"Don't think twice,
It's allright"
but I've been puzzled
about that advice
all my life

so it strikes me
that where I am
is where I am
and what I do
is what I do

it's probably
just perfect
that way
but as a Zen master
said,
"There's still
some room
for improvement!"

Relax
the body,
lose the pain.

My old pen
has been retired
and a funky new one
has temporarily
taken its place
because it seems to me
that I shouldn't stick
with the same old things
or else
I will get stuck.

My sister
was sewing
like a little mom
as I sat, rocking,
on the sofa
terrified
of a song
about garbage.

I have had
a continuous headache
for forty years
that doesn't get
any better
but it does get
worse.

Three o'clock
in the morning
and the house
is awake
with music
and this is not night
but morning.

Coming out
into a white room
I am held
upside-down
and spanked
as my mother
lies drugged
as if she
were dead
like I thought.

I trust myself
to write down
what's on the mind
like about the time
in the canoe
when I stuck out
the paddle
and flipped the thing
over.

I wear crystals
and a large man
said he liked my rock
then he told me
that it was sedimentary
and millions of years old
so I wondered
if I was wearing it
or it was wearing me.

Go to a bookstore
and look at the poetry
to see how many books
by living poets
are for sale.

Nice.

"One thousand changes of mind in the time of a snap of your fingers" - Gelek Rimpoche

Change your mind
if you have
a problem with it.

People do not disappear.
Do we come and go?
Are we here?

"First thought - Enlightened thought! Second thought - Buddha thought!" - Samu Sunim

Thoughts don't seem
to be so good
but they probably
actually are.

Love, I think, doesn't exist.
Only loving acts.
They're always.

The purpose of this
is to document
the place and time
where I am
at this present moment.

Small wine cup
is empty.

Fingers touching with thumbs touching in a pose of air,
like velvetine cloth instead of this fleshy stuff,
full with blood and muscle and skin with blue lines,
on fire now with tapping the plastic keys of a mechanical toy,
down from above where the light makes my eyes wide,
silly addition to man's genius which will save us,
just like his berries and apples that fill us with gasoline,
on fire like my late father who poured it on something,
with car's engines purring like oceans out on the roads,
away from all trouble, people perched on vinyl seats,
talking about their troubles to others with theirs,
as beings all over are sleeping.

One foot down. One foot down.
Stuck on the carpet.
Back slightly slumped, curved.
This is no other than enlightenment.
Neither enlightened nor not.
One sees emptiness. One sees form.
Two, I am not.
Two, we are not. Two, it is not.
If you subtract something
from infinity, it is still infinite.
So now I can forget everything
and stop seeking and just rest.

A carnation in front of me
has a white flower.

A man crosses his legs.

This notion of time being vertical.

I breathe a sigh
of relief
that this
is over.

This ink is dry
with wetness
on a sunny fall afternoon
when we made a change
since we were told
of the coming that wasn't
and the going that isn't
so our feeling is
like a cotton sweater.

Delusion!

Unseen,
together giving.