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Wolfku

All this time
  I thought these
oranges were naval
since they cured
  scurvy

::

In a strange dream
  a horse was
  inserting a
spiritual IV

::

I am a breathing
  mountain
  wondering who
codified my feelings

::

Wow, to be
  a seagull
and never have
  a home-cooked
  meal—
what a shame

::

And as we cling
  to the heartless
  trellis
of feelings and
  emotions

We are enslaved
  by this vicious
  saga
of feelings and
  emotions

Only Peace is
  True Joy

::

Love is just like
  gravity
it affects us all
  inexplicably

::

We have to step
  inside
that finest
  micro-moment
  light-gate ajar

::

White T-shirt—
big dog jumped me
  friendly like
  muddily like
Laundry time

::

The best way
  to cut out
  bad thoughts
is to cut out
  thoughts
  altogether

::

outside: green grass
  sunshine
inside: a child
  television
  test pattern

::

The long, lazy
  ocean-tongue
lapping sand
  serenely
content
  he smiles

::

Henceforth
  Selfies are no longer
  Selfies
Going forward:
  Egoies

::

Don’t forget that
  bolstering
  the ego
will also
  delimit you

will tighten
  the noose

“But I am the ego!”
“Q.E.D.”

::

Language is the bait
  the mind uses
To hook innocent
  spirit fish

::

We create the
  illusion of time
by remembering
  delusion

::

A still mind—
  no daemons
  no thoughts
  no associations
Only peace

::

I once plunged the
  dark chasm-root
  of language
malevolent and deep

::

Why not view
  my body
as my little corner
  of the universe?

Walking:
  keeping my
  little corner
  of the universe
in motion

::

Most any fiction
  calls for the
  willing suspension
of disbelief

Some fiction
  calls for the
  unwilling suspension
of critical eye

::

The opposite
  of hate is love
  of fear is love
  of passion is love

The opposite
  of grief is love
  of sex is love
  of water is love

The opposite
  of light is love
  of dark is love
  of language is love

  of music is love
  of sunrise is love

The opposite
  of all things
    far and near
    is love

::

I saw a space ship
  or, rather
  they saw me
smiled and said
  There he is

::

Some poetry gets
  tangled up in words
  and their uncertain
  meanings

Some poetry sails clear
  above those things
  on the wings
  of clear image

::

Why do I frighten
  crows into flight
When eighteen-wheel
 semis do not?

::

I steep my brain
  in imagery
My body responds
  accordingly

I steep the world
  in loving kindness
And life responds
  quite purringly

I steep the universe
  in stillness
And all that is
  responds in kind

::

My mind—
  a miasma
  of endless
  multilayered
cross-references

::

The answers to
  all riddles
  await us
within this very
  moment

::

He was so huge
  he couldn’t quite
  squeeze himself
inside a single now

::

Joined
  Trumpoholics
  Anonymous
am now, proudly
  thirty days clean

::

The brain is not
  and alphabet, yet
  amazingly
We can think words

::

To clearly see
  we must grow
  so small
we’d fit within
  this very now

::

When the entire
  universe
co-focuses on
  truth
all will cease

::

The true trouble
  with the mind
  is that you think
  that you think
what it thinks

::

Walking after the
  brief shower
turning suicidal
  snails around

::

The Cartesian equation
  these shallow days:
I eat, therefore I am

I buy/I own/I greed
I shop/I drive/I watch
I fuck/I rule/I kill
I __*, therefore I am

*insert single-syllable verb of choice

::

Mindfulness—
  your mind
  and your body
at the same place
at the same time

::

My candle flame
  softly tethered
  to the wick
is trying to escape

::

When it comes to
  short poems
I have a seventeen
  syllable mind

::

If my words do not
  improve upon
  the silence
I should* honor it

*but all too often do not

::

Just like I am
  made of stardust
So, too, the stars
  are made of
  medust

::

The shadow cast
  by a leaf
is just as dark
  as that
  cast by a stone

::

I think I found
  my heart today
hiding ‘hind the
  guarded gates
  of self

::

Few things in this life
  can match the glory
of a child’s fascination

::

Twenty-Seventeen?
When everybody
  knows it’s called
Thirty-Seven

::

The sunlight
  mellowed by smoke
casts a golden sheen
  upon the water

::

The amazing thing
  about life
is that there
  is a now
  to be in

::

Brahman is the sea
Atman is the wave
  We rise
  We crest
  We let go

::

The human soul
  fettered by
  language
must sing its way
  out of prison

::

Today, by a still
  and Trump-less
Pacific, I so enjoyed
  my life

::

It seems my
  culinary universe
revolves around
  Rubbermaid

::

So many words
  so many words
when all you
  have to say
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many dreams
  so many dreams
when all you
  have to dream
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many hopes
  so many hopes
when all you
  have to hope
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many songs
  so many songs
when all you
  have to sing
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many things
  so many things
when all you
  have to thing
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many paths
  so many paths
when all you
  have to path
(and do) is:

Let go

:

So many thens
  so many nows
when all you
  have to then
(and now) is:

Let go

::

This morning
  the fog was so thick
  that my path seemed
a long Milky Way

::

A good friend
  of mine died
Then I thought:
  I he can do it
  so can I
(can’t be that hard)

::

The clear light
  of Emptiness
is never more
  than a breath
  away

::

What is the
  inevitable
  outcome
of protracted
  gluttony?

::

What joy drives
  the dragonfish
  other than
  gulping
  gulping
gulping down

::

What if everything
  in a blink
doubled in size
  would we
  notice that?

::

About brain food:
  There is no
  brain food
  brain-foodier
than Oxygen

::

Karmameter:
  a handy tool
to measure
  your bad
  and good
Karma

::

A thousand trillion
  fragments
healed today
  into one
  into nothing

::

The spirit is
larger than
  the Universe
smaller than
  the Atom

::

Samsara is a
  chemical ocean
All molecules
  and feelings

::

The poet’s true palette
  is the reader’s
  soaring
  imagination

::

The yellow flower
  to the bee:
“Please, please
  please
Pick me, pick me
  pick me”

::

Air, as food
  is not empty
it’s a breathable
  healthy chemical

::

There is a deep
  living connection
between the word
  and the spirit

::

 


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