I danced the seven animals.
Then I danced them backwards.
We are all deluded about the nature of life.
It may be written, it may be being written.
I saw the Great Mountain.
The dead have never left us.
Johnny Carson was on television tonight.

I was eating peanuts
when I noticed blood
and found that my lip
was cut
so thinking about Babylon
and how the poet was freed
I tried ways
to heal it
and when I tried sleeping
it bled worse
so I decided
to wake up
all night long
although I probably won't.

Lately,
I have been
analyzing
the beer trip,
so it starts
with the thought
of having a beer,
and since
I am not one
to jump right in,
I think
before I drink,
and then
if I decide
to have one,
I get in the car
and drive to the store
and buy one
and bring it home,
and then
when I crack the can,
the beer wave starts,
and it starts
with the attack,
which is the actual drinking,
and after about five minutes,
I feel the wooziness,
which is the high,
so then the actual drinking
takes about fifteen minutes,
and then the sustain part
of the wave begins,
so for about fifteen more minutes
I feel great
and woozy and high and wonderful,
and then after that,
the decay part starts,
and for about a half an hour,
I feel pretty good,
but the woozy feeling
kind of changes
and the feeling
is not as good,
and then after that,
the release part
of the beer wave begins,
and lasts for about an hour,
and that's when
I get a headache,
and the wooziness
becomes sleepiness,
and I feel kind of ******,
so then after that hour
is over,
I'm back to my old self again,
but with a little residue
of beeriness left,
which will last
possibly
for about three days,
so that's
riding the one beer wave,
except that I did it
with understanding.

I debated
going for a walk,
tonight,
and finally decided
to do it,
so, at two o'clock
in the morning,
I went outside,
and it was cold.
The first thing
that struck me
as I walked out
of the door,
was a memory
or a group
of memories,
of being a fearless,
reckless, drunk
young person,
who was out
at this time
many times before,
and I even could seem
to smell his alcohol.
But, there was no guilt
or shame,
it was a sweet memory.
And I remembered,
the words
of a Zen master,
who said
that the past, present,
and future
are all here
in the present moment,
so I thought
of the future,
and my back straightened
a little,
and I warmed up
a little,
so I thought
maybe the future
will be better
than we think.

The world
always seems
like two drunk men
   fighting.
I prefer to sit it out.

When I get
in this mood
where I think
"I don't want
to do anything"
all I can seem to do
is stand up
and sit down
while smoking.

Sitting here
in my computer chair
I straighten my back
and put my hands
in a unique position
at my belly
with my breath
filling it up
and on the exhale
pulling the belly in and in
tighter and tighter
until all air is gone
and then I do it again.

The mood lighting
of early morning
in the poetry office
shines its light
on the ***** ashtray
where two bent cigarette butts
are resting
waiting to be thrown away.

The right foot
has a wrecked toe
that feels as though
it is broken all through
and as I walk upstairs
the pain says
"How do you do?".

This little room
is in a house
in a quiet suburb
of a large city
and I know
there are many,
many little rooms
which are like this
and unlike this
all over.
It has yellow walls.

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.

Small wine cup
is empty.

You don't have
to be spiritual
to be spiritual.

There's a ghost
in this house
who is a woman
that is ugly
with claws for fingernails.
I think I brought her here
by accident
after thinking about
a past life.
She killed me
a long time ago
so she went
to hell
and now must
reside on Earth
before she can
find peace.
I don't mind ghosts
I think they're OK
but she freaks out
everybody else.
So I'll just wish her
Happy New Year
on this rainy night
and hope for the best.

All alternative therapies
and all religious practices
may be placebos,
like we might as well
drink sugar water,
but we shouldn't forget
that a placebo
sometimes is a cure,
simply because we believe.

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.

Buddha taught
that life is an illusion
as did
the Beatles
so after a nap
I woke up
facing the gate
in my mind
of this teaching
and instead
of not getting hung up
I got nervous
thinking that this reality
as I know it
is not real
so here I am now
on this paradigm of illusion
called the computer
and sometimes
the only way
to pass through
these Dharma gates
is to forget about them.

I've been sick.
I cured myself this morning.
The cure only lasted about an hour.
Then, I fell asleep while sitting in a chair.
The Mind Snatchers took over my head while I was dreaming.
It was a pleasant dream about a friend playing his flute.
When I woke up the mind was ablaze.
A roaring, burning flood of thoughts drowned me.
I put out the fire.
I calmed the flood.
I've been sick.

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.

In music school,
I had to join a group
in order to graduate,
so I chose
glee club,
not because
I wanted to,
or liked glee club,
but because
it presented itself
to me,
so I loved
to sing,
but I had
a terrible voice,
so one day
we were all asked
to sing one
of our parts,
solo,
so when it got to me,
I sang,
and everybody laughed,
and I was humiliated,
but now,
much later,
I realize
that I would have laughed,
too.

I have discovered
sitting outside
by the garden
on summer mornings
as I take photographs
and drink tea,
stand up
and meditate
with various
hand positions
as the neighbor
says good morning
by saying
"Hi, baby duck".

The politics
seem like nothing
but fighting
about who gets what
when it seems
like everyone
should have enough.

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."

Throughout my life,
I have felt crummy,
even as a child,
and for all these years,
I have been looking for
a cure for feeling crummy,
so I found one,
tonight,
since I was in
the basement,
feeling crummy,
it occurred to me
that feeling crummy
is the same feeling
as being ******
on many kinds
of recreational drugs,
and the only difference is
that we like to be ******,
but we don't like
to feel crummy,
so all I had to do
was to think
that I was ******,
instead of crummy,
and it worked!
so I became
instantly happier
and felt much better,
so that's my cure
for feeling lousy,
just think
that you are ******.

After an afternoon nap
I awoke without any thoughts
an empty brain
and in Zen they say that's great
and everyone seems to think so
but it disturbed me
so I just sat in a chair
without a thought
for a few hours
doing nothing
then later I did some Zen practice
and the mind began talking again
so I felt much better.

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 love the dark
as long as it's not
dark.

I lit incense
and a candle
and chanted a prayer
for my dead father.

So, I had
a hundred dollars
which I wanted
to give away
to a homeless person,
but since
if you want to find
a homeless person,
you won't be able to,
unless you just happen
to come across one,
so I also
wanted to give away Dharma,
which is the teaching
of the Buddha,
so I went
to a Dharma bookstore,
and asked for Dharma,
and the owner said,
"I can't give you Dharma,
it's everywhere.",
and then he said,
"If you want to give away Dharma,
don't give it to me,
because I'll just get mad...
it's like teaching spirituality
to your mother...
go give it to somebody else",
so I turned
to the lady standing there,
and introduced myself,
and we talked
about her depression,
and I told her about my depression,
and we talked about
our medications,
so I gave her
the hundred dollars,
and she was so happy
that she hugged me,
and I left the store,
and she ran out after me
and told me
that she couldn't take it,
and gave me back
the hundred dollars,
so the moral
of this story is
"All Dharmas Are Empty".

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.

I feel like
an overcast Sunday
on this
overcast Sunday.

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 dancing man
moves in slow motion
ridding his body and mind
of unwanted ****
that he blows out of his nose
with a well-controlled breath
that took him forty years
to learn.

Art is not necessarily a fame thing.
Art is not necessarily a money thing.
Art is not necessarily a work thing.
Art is not necessarily a perfected thing.
Art is not necessarily a difficult thing.
Art is not necessarily a masterpiece thing.

I go down
to the basement
and paint.

I go down
to the basement
and make music.

I come up
to the computer
and write.

Perseverance, when trying
to be passive, is like jello.
Submission to jello is some
place for circumstances.
Strong jello is found
in a yoga class. The
active yogi has a response
to the difficult events
of the yoga class. Global
achievers eat jello just
like the rest of us. We
are victims of their
model. They spout dire
forecasts, as if they
were desirable, like jello
or yoga. There's always
room for yoga and jello.

The monk
received
a box
on his birthday,
and it was
a special gift
from his brother monks,
so, he knew
that it was something special,
so, with a little nervousness,
he carefully opened the box
and saw that it was empty,
and with great joy
and happiness
he exclaimed,
"Nothing!
Just what I wanted!"

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.

With morning coffee
in hand
I feel depressed
so I ask the Buddha inside
to make me happy
and so
he does!

Thin fingers
gracefully
balancing.

Life is
being
a being
in a big place
doing one thing
after another
for about eighty years.
Mystery solved!

The first thought
was by the right guy
and the second thought
was by the right guy
and even though
they sound different
they are both
as empty
as outer space.

Yellow,
making bubbles
in the water,
and dripping
sending out ripples.

This is
a part
of life.

Don't always
flush it.

I once asked
a river
by my house
to help me
quit smoking.
I'm still smoking.

My morning
is most people's night
and almost everyone
around here
is asleep
as I do my morning work
and the dark
is quiet and still
except for those little noises
of things bumping around
in my peacefully awakened house.

Relax
the body,
lose the pain.

When I was a kid
the news of a cold war
was everywhere
and they were going
to bury us
so every time
an airplane flew over
or a test plane
made a sonic boom
I thought it was
the end
and then the presidents
got into an argument
over missiles
and everybody thought
it would be
the end
but one backed down
and the bombs
weren't dropped.

Uncomfortable
when he sine waves the puddles
on his circle home.

I used to be
the kind of guy
who drank
a twelve pack
of Bud Light
and watched
football.
Now I am
the kind of guy
who does a dance
to the morning
and sings
Doe A Deer
four times
shortly after
I wake up.
It's hard to get used to it.

You are reading this.
You are invisible to me.
I am invisible to you.
I was at an art show.
A large group of people were there.
I saw their bodies, but there were no names attached.
No stories of their lives.
No anecdotes about them.
Even though I could see them, they were invisible.
But, there is something visible about all of us.
We know each other well.

The word
from the media
is to live big
but I think
I like living small
without the worry
about success
and fame
and without
the trouble
that money brings.