"who taught you to look so good?!"
says a thought [shot] in the dark.
--- this to no woman in particular but to
all womankind i suppose.
outside there is a dog haranguing me,
saying WOOF (that is, "where d'you get those old clothes?")
i tell him the sally ann but good luck
getting in there, dog . . . he takes off, complaining ---
but i pay no attention to the bellyaching of an old mutt...
"nay," says i there's not a ******
thing of any real importance in this
universal dustbin/save the dharma.
yea i could live in a woodsy cabin
deep down a valley-ay shoutin' "HOOO-EE!!" out the open door
to anyone who comes by and
be thought a crazy young ('ventually old) ******
off his rocker in the trees.
--- and why not!!
chop logs/cook bread 'n brew potsa tea
'n otherwise lead a silent but meaningful old existence
out there with weekend friends/girls/wine/talk.
--- tell all that to a bookish pal
who scoffs:
*"some dharmy of yours, boy. all that work.
where are the café sittings & sunny youthy days of
readin' sutras on a lawn somewhere?"*
"bah," i says. "bah..."
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
"who taught you to look so good?!"
says a thought [shot] in the dark.
--- this to no woman in particular but to
all womankind i suppose.
outside there is a dog haranguing me,
saying WOOF (that is, "where d'you get those old clothes?")
i tell him the sally ann but good luck
getting in there, dog . . . he takes off, complaining ---
but i pay no attention to the bellyaching of an old mutt...
"nay," says i there's not a ******
thing of any real importance in this
universal dustbin/save the dharma.
yea i could live in a woodsy cabin
deep down a valley-ay shoutin' "HOOO-EE!!" out the open door
to anyone who comes by and
be thought a crazy young ('ventually old) ******
off his rocker in the trees.
--- and why not!!
chop logs/cook bread 'n brew potsa tea
'n otherwise lead a silent but meaningful old existence
out there with weekend friends/girls/wine/talk.
--- tell all that to a bookish pal
who scoffs:
*"some dharmy of yours, boy. all that work.
where are the café sittings & sunny youthy days of
readin' sutras on a lawn somewhere?"*
"bah," i says. "bah..."
la fôret: ca c'est ma dharma
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