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.

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

The old way
of ruling the world
obviously failed,
with its history
of war and violence,
so there is a new world leader
who we all know,
and maybe he bugs you,
but you know
all of the leaders
always did bug us,
so I voted for him
and he was George Bush's idea,
so meet the new world leader,
the big giant computer!

I will be
with you
always...
forever.

When I was in the start
of my mental illness problem,
I exhibited physical movements
which bothered me,
because I thought they
were crazy,
but now, some forty years later,
I realized
that what I was doing
was mental illness yoga,
which was the body's way
of trying to cure me,
and the first yogic movement
that I did
was rocking back and forth
as I was sitting,
so now
I have tried it
by synchronizing
my breathing
and my internal music
along with it,
and it becomes
very healing,
so my mentally ill mother
used to tap
her fingers
on her legs
one at a time,
so I have tried that
and synchronized it,
and a friend
used to pull down
on his sideburns
in a kind of stroking manner,
so that's a good one,
and another friend
stroked his legs
back and forth
just above the knees,
and that one is excellent,
so I move my legs
in opposite directions, fast,
back and forth,
and that one works well,
so I roll my head around
in circles,
and that actually is
a yogic practice
called head rolls,
and I move my head
back and forth, sideways,
like Stevie Wonder,
and that works great,
so I would suggest
that if you have
any kind of eccentric movements
like these,
to develop them
and turn them into yoga,
because it just might be
the answer
to many problems.

I am leaving you
this message
on the humming, glowing machine
which says,
"I didn't have the best
of days, today,
but they all have
something good
about them, don't they?
I'll be hearing
from you soon,
maybe?"

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.

My life
has been all about
thoughts fighting
with thoughts
about thinking,
about to think
or not to think,
and it was an interesting
war
but stupid
and I learned a lot
about nothing
and it was extremely painful.
This war
was started
by who knows who
for no reason.
I have decided,
along with the Dalai Lama,
that what is needed
is a dialogue,
so mind has been talking
to mind
about what the reality
of this is.
We have decided
that the reality
of this is
a headache,
which could,
in time,
get better.

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 understand
the art
in a blank canvas.

I decided
because the mind
suggested it
to do my thing
in a different way

So I did one practice
and mixed it up
with another practice
until I got here
to do this

And so you might say
"So what"
but this has made
a major difference
to me and my
life.

So what?

I was meditating
with the life mudra
in an attempt
to understand life,
and so I chanted
the first word
that came to mind
and it was "Mo"
so I thought
of homosexuality
and Larry and Curly
and then I chanted
the second word
which came to mind
and it was "Da"
and I thought of
my late father
and just now
I think of stupidity
and then I chanted
the third word
which came to mind
and it was "Su"
so I thought of
my first girl friend
and I am thinking
of litigation
so I thought of
the fourth word
which came to mind
and it was "Ma"
so I thought of
my late mother
and the Korean word
for mind,
so I put them all together
and I got
"Modasuma"
which meant
spring, summer, fall, and winter
to me
and then I looked
modasuma
up on the internet
and gathered
in my ignorance
of the Spanish language
that moda suma
is a South American museum
that was visited
by Amy Winehouse.

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.

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

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.

I bow to the television
which is part of the big mind
and turn it on
for about five seconds
in order to get
   ideas
which I then interpret
and it is divining television
much like the I Ching
so I call it
channeling the TV
and the ideas
just keep coming.

I think
I have good taste
in music,
since I have studied it
formally,
but it occurs to me
that my taste
is sometimes
in my mouth
and that I am a phony
sometimes
about what
I really like,
for example
I used to listen
to "Twenty First Century Schizoid Man"
and loved it,
but I had
a secret crush
on Captain and Tenneille's
"Love Will Keep Us Together"
and I wouldn't tell anyone,
because it wasn't correct
to like it,
so, I am a closet fan
of Madonna,
even though
I'm not supposed to be,
and liked Prince and Michael Jackson
which, at the time,
I wasn't supposed to,
because if I told
my friends,
they would thumb
their noses.

This morning
I wrote some music
which sounded
something like
my mood -
happy-crazy,
so that cheered me up
then I put it away!

I have an incurable disease
which I call yoyoitis
and the symptoms of it
are that I am happy as a rabbit
for a few days
and then the yoyo goes down
and I'm miserable and low
for a few days
and then up goes the yoyo again
and I'm happy as a rabbit.
It's a big pain in the ****.

"Dreams can come true,
it can happen to you..."
so, yeah,
like that dream
I just had
where I was
diagnosed
with cancer,
or that dream
I just had
where there were
some sort of
flesh eating fish
stuck between my toes,
or that dream
I just had
where there were
bugs attacking me,
or that dream
about the end of the world
with me on some
nuclear submarine,
or even
my lame daydreams
about fame and success,
all these can come true,
but let's hope not.

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.

You might
get the idea,
when reading
my poetry,
that I am
some sort
of a dumb guy,
who really doesn't know
about Zen or poetry,
and really isn't very good
with the English language,
or you might
see something different,
some guy behind this stuff,
who really does
know something,
like that he really
shouldn't use the word
really so much,
and who
is sort of a tongue in cheek,
Zen wise-***
and that he actually does know
something about poetry,
and that he uses
the English language
this way
intentionally,
but the real poet's voice
is probably
none of the above,
and then there is
the real kicker,
and that is
that he is
all of the above!

I have studied
my head
for my whole life,
and I've read
a little psychology
and a lot of religion
and my head
has been studied
by doctors,
so thoughts
interest me
and it seems
like there
is this voice
in there
who is something
that I could call me
and these other
voices
who I could call
voices
or thoughts
or whatever,
but, you know,
it dawned on me
that all it is
is the action
of electromagnetic biochemistry
in my head,
and I think
oh...
so that's what
I've gotten
so crazy about
for all these years.

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!

A squirrel was seen.
Sprawled out on the sidewalk.
Still living.
Muscular, to be able to run up trees.
I was surprised.
Squirrels impress me.
Most think they are funny.
I have not gotten beyond the death of a squirrel.
Watch them run on the wires.
Filled with vital energy.
I wonder if long ago, I was one.
Teeth.

My childhood bicycle
was like a Cadillac
with fins and gizmos
but my brother suggested
we strip it down.
My brother tried
to fix a red corvette
in our family's garage.
The computer has replaced
my childhood bicycle
with its journeys
to cyberspace.
The 5 year old car
of my mother's
which I drive
is orange and waits
in our family's garage.

I smell like cigarette smoke.
I sometimes smell like a ****.
Sometimes, I have that, you know, man smell.
I have noticed a musty kind of odor.
Once in a while, I smell like incense.
Breath is disturbing to some, when it comes out of the mouth.
Right now, I don't smell anything particularly.
That's how it usually is.
I don't know what you think.
What do you think?

My pen
broke down
and I tried
another
but that one
didn't work
so I fixed
my old pen
so okay.

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.

It began with National
     Geographic
and those pictures
     of nearly naked
African women
as I lay on the floor
     of the hall
and from there
     it became
being ****** by a dog
     in the bathroom
to twenty second ***
     with a girl
who said I was impotent
     to becoming
aware that my *****
     was too small
to a statutory case
     where I didn't
     get caught
to a time in bed
     with a girl
who said
     "How much longer
     is this going to go"
to a grandmother
     who put me to work
and the love-making
     was just like that
     some of the time
to a one-night stand
     with an overweight girl
which was the best time
to me thinking
     "I haven't done too well
     with the ladies,
     maybe I should try
     the men"
and then doing so
     and deciding I didn't
     like it
to a few unforgettable
     moments which were
     forgettable
to an illicit affair
     with a married woman
     in motel rooms
to a woman who picked me up
     and said, "Let's be friends"
     and as she was going
     up the stairs
     she said, "OK, let's get
     this over with"
     and I ran outside
     to get out of there
then to twenty-one years
     of celibacy
when I realized
     that my best ***
     was with myself
and so I married him.

     THE END

In grade school
they told me
not to pursue music
because I was
so lousy at it,
so, just to show them,
I proceeded
to study music
for about
a thousand years,
and I came up
with a kind of music
which is so intentionally wrong
that it is perfect,
except not many people
seem to think so,
since I get
about three listens
to each song,
so I'm not exactly
a hit,
if you know
what I mean,
but, you know,
I think
I'm some kind
of genius Mozart
or something,
of course
maybe not.

My Zen priest
taught me
to eat ****
like fruit.

My Zen priest
taught me
to catch thoughts.

My Zen priest
taught me
to exclaim
the word "**", loudly.

My Zen priest
taught me
that the purpose of life
is to make as much money
as you possibly can.

Don't be suckered
by a Zen priest.

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!

Who is writing the story
that you are reading? It's
of your life? Is it your
poem that doesn't rhyme?
Job, your kids, your spouse/
house/bicycle/car/motor/
boyfriend/girlfriend, or your
internet connection? If you
or your finances? I have
some money that is enough.
Maybe it's your health or
maybe not, the new chapter
or your parents? I would
go to a store and read
like to suggest that YOU
go there too, or maybe not.

Buddha says
to have no outflows
and I have recently noticed
that I have powerful outflows
in my meditation practice
so I decided to try
some new practices
which are nothing new
and they are
just sitting,
just standing,
and just dancing,
and those sound simple
but there is more to it
that you might imagine.

So, I clear
the mind
with an oh and an ah
with my breath,
and then wait
briefly
for some thoughts
to rise up,
and then there
is the new way,
but the Buddha
wants me
to go homeless
and sit under
a tree,
so I don't exactly
follow him,
and my internal girlfriend
thinks I should have
a beer,
but I don't think so,
and then,
on the patio,
I raise up my arms
and then
put them back down.

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.

Sitting in an old wicker chair
that has an orange pillow
on its seat
I nod
and remember
that this ordinary life
which so many of us
don't really like
is actually nirvana
whatever that is.

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.

Punching in
early in the night
or any old time
for a job
that pays
no money
I gain insight
into the profession
of the unsuccessful artist
who has to do his work
with nothing to gain
except the accomplishment
since that's the way
it is.

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).

I remembered
my twenty years
of growing up
in agony
and discovered
that it wasn't so bad
and that I actually had
a great time
so now I love
everything and everybody
because all of the pain
is gone.

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.

As a car drove by, I have nothing to say.
When the hum of the computer is listened to, I have nothing to say.
As the fingers make the clicking sound of keys dancing, I have nothing to say.
When the mind is stuffed with a cloud.
Well, you know.

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.

The twentieth century artists
took art all the way
to nothingness
and I love it
so I say
that there's no
wrong way
to do art,
since there are
no real rules
and wrong art
is sometimes better
than right art,
but it seems to me
that if the artist
wants to get somewhere
they have to do it
daily
for their whole lifetime.

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.

I was flying high.
Filled with love.
I got hungry.
I ate a dill pickle, some olives and some cheese.
I decided to take my nutrient pills.
I swallowed them.
Now, I am lower than a sleeping dog.
Oh well, Buddha said that nutrients cause suffering.

I woke up as someone else.
I don't know who it was.
So, I went back to sleep.

I put my right index finger
on the point of my upper lip
and hold it there
then soon I explode
in a delightful ******
of kundalini rapture
so I suggest
you give it a try
and see what it does
to you.