I fell down again today,
I thought I was done for sure.
All the pain and sadness,
dropped me straight to the floor.

I felt like a ******* brick,
made of lead,
tied to an anchor;
and someone decided
to drop me,
into a sea of misery.

I thought for sure
"I can't do this,
I can't take it anymore."

But I swear to god,
I heard your voice,
and I got up off the floor.

I swear,
you were there,
and the weight lifted once more.
I know,
you were there;
it didn't hurt anymore.

Thank you.

I have been sailing
through the somewhat dangerous
sea of life,
seeking the new world
where there
is peace, love, happiness, wisdom, and compassion.
I sought it inside
the mind and body.
So, I found crazy mantras
and incomprehensible chants
and ways to sit
that once broke my ankle,
and a practice
of quieting the mind
that nearly killed me.
So this morning,
on Christopher Columbus Day,
I found
the true mantra
for me
and the true chant
for me,
the true words
which will bring
love, peace, happiness, wisdom and compassion,
and they are
love, peace, happiness, wisdom and compassion.
So now
I have found
my new world.
Happy Christopher Everson Day!

I turn on one electric light
usually
to see in the dark
and no electric lights
in the daytime,
because I try
not to waste energy
and natural resources,
because they are precious,
so I recycle
as much as I can
and I take cloth bags
to stores,
and I turn off
and even unplug
almost everything
in the house,
and I use
as little water
as I can,
but, you know,
sometimes
I just say ***** it
to conservation
and throw stuff away,
because it's not good
to get stuck
in some ****
philosophy.

a sentinel sits,
overlooking a river
protecting it
from time.

remembering it
for what it has been,
will be,
and
is

I like to walk through the apartment
at night to be sure nothing
has moved, to be sure I still belong. I quiz myself
on the layout of furniture darker than air
with my hands above my head
so I can’t cheat. I know
where the lamp sits, just out of reach.

It was a glass of water I was after
or just darkness or to check the faucet
was still dripping into rusty Rorschach portraits
like the first cave drawings made by accident
when they pressed their sooty faces
against the cool cave wall.
The man across the hallway steps out
around midnight, he pretends
to hold a cigarette in his teeth, to light up and love
every breath. When the leaves are crunching like tonight,
I know he’s outside puffing on air. His fingers rest
lightly on his lips, he flicks nothing into the street.
Sometimes I follow him out,
ask for a light and we stand together
on the sidewalk, pretending to risk it all.