Poem
None
of the suicides are enjoying the
beauty
of this autumn day (why they do it
anyway?).
A leaf with a rat's tail sniffing the
cement
walkway at my feet. A baby manta ray.
Shadows
across the leaf-thronged lawn, vast
herds
of them moving east as the wind blows...
A
shower of golden parakeets falls (one nips
my
ear) as the leaf-children tip toe out into the
highway
and are run-over by cars and trucks
but
get up, and run, turn cartwheels, flips, and
somersaults,
like school children let out for
recess...So
glad I am still here....
Still
here.
Wealth
Buddha
did not want his father's
riches;
he wanted his own, so
set
out
to
acquire a load of
spiritual
gold, and
did--
then
gave the entire product
away--
he
was richest of all, including
Crassus,
who swallowed his load
and
John D. Rockefeller, the
desiccated
mummy brought to heel
by
Ida Tarbeller, a mucker
not
unlike Upton Sinclaire
who
sent the meat men
packing
(later went into the
muffler
and gasoline
businesses).
Shorts
1.
"So
that is time!" said Henry Morton Stanley
while
lying on his deathbed.
Wish
i knew what he'd seen;
what
his meaning was--
be nice
to know
wouldn't
it though?
2.
Van
Gogh cut his ear off
on a
Saturday night
because
he was bored
sitting
in the gas-light
listening
to Gauguin blabber
about how great he was.
3.
In
the bunker
Adolf
Hitler struggled trying
to
decide who to try-out the
cyanide
capsule on: Blondie, his dog
or Eva Braun?
4.
Dark
sky full of
something:
full of
itself--it's
sky-ness;
it's
ethereality, it's
substanceless
substance:
it's
airiness--it's
Jorie
Graham-ness.
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