Absolute science and art of being whole
            at one and under no delusion that
                        mankind (or nature) give a ****
                                    whether you amount
                                                to something or not.
                                                            ­Narrowed down
                                                            ­            nothing

nothing but matter matters, matter, content
            of life (serious, love it) hate
                        death, for the hell of it, to
                                    see what it's like in
                                                the heart of
                                                            da­rkness.

Deeper and deeper I go
            but who would bother to **** me
                        or love me? Belonging to the drums
                                    of wooful war I
                                                woof and bay like
                                                            ­every other
                                                           ­             dog.

Down I go to the depths of material life
            the material is spirit wrought
                        by the material world. The
                                    drum and jet plane
                                                the bird and sumac
                                                           ­ the pollen
                                                          ­              seed.

No answer is forthcoming for the young fool
            importunes to ask too frequently
                        the fool's question. What
                                    is my next move. He
                                                steps lightly and does
                                                            ­not seem to care
                                                            ­            quite where.
                                                          ­                          The

material world is reality, my friend
            and sadness is the spiritual root
                        without which the love-nut
                                    may be reached only
                                                by stretching
                                                      ­      the emotions
                                                        ­                bare

raw, where desert delights exhibit
            movement in the sunlit light. Where
                        none find their way
                                    without following leaders
                                                sometimes­ the wrong way.
                                                            ­The path
                                                            ­            is

apart from the dance or the dancer who
            cutting cross country laughs
                        at his perennial fright of being
                                    caught outdoors, out of sight
                                                alone with the wind and rain
                                                            ­for days on end
                                                             ­           in hiding.
                                                         ­                           Up

on the roof, the telephone ringing,
            books getting delivered to the library free,
                        gratis, no fight, no love
                                    a meager understanding
                                                of what rolls
                                                           ­ the earth.
                                                          ­              Gravity

rolls the earth (and may sometimes rock it)
            each of us achieving the gravity of a planet
                        and pulling the world apart with our loves.
                                    Taking existence beyond the limits
                                                set for it, into
                                                            ­the universe
                                                        ­                beyond

We went out beyond the surf
            into the adirondack of trees waiting,
                        wanting nothing, mountains
                                    wanting to grow slowly.