i could feel it and wondered how i'd become so ordinary when all of what i was was yours and wasn't that enough? and you said no and packed while i watched and i carried your bag to the car and the night was thick as mud and how I begged it to swallow me but goddamn if the sun didn't rise anyway
google knows my every nook the foods i love my taste in books the music that i love to hear the thoughts i chase the things i fear she knows when i am up or down my manic swings my thorny crown my politics my poems and prayers my aching joints and thinning hair my aspirations artsy flings troubles, joys and secret things i thought were mine and mine alone she tracks my way infests my phone and follows me where 'er i go and knows me better than i know and...
ten fingers are holy and guitar is holy and tongue is holy and legs and feet are holy and brain and eye and ear and this bright day and all my fumbling is holy, these blessed missteps, perfect, and this tangled plat sacred as any and i am a pagan saint in my wooded cathedral and, goddess, bless this day, this bright warm light and perfect sky amen
i got holes in my pockets, baby, and so the money's gone and cold as it gets this shit is what's good in life and, lord, you know and there ain't nothin' i wouldn't do for love and i love me some o' this shit 'cause there aint nothin' i wouldn't do to feel nothin' and just let my boat drift down this river 'til it sinks and me in it and, damn it, he's gone and she's...
never needed jesus though that ain't what i was told and lord knows i lingered at the edge of his water and seen him beat down and strung up but, lord, i never asked and wouldn't of had i seen what they would do
and all you ever done was kindness and ain't it just the way when you try so hard but fate lays its eye upon you and you see your truth plain as the sky is blue and ain't nothing pleasant in it but you...
tired of writing i and me and mine and wish those words banned from further mention in this poem and deemed neither prophets nor kings but monks who have taken vows of silence and renounced all wealth and all claims to the joys of self aggrandizement and self pity and self preservation and have even forsaken their names and wander cold and anonymous in brown robes, begging, always dependent on the kindness of strangers
96 Buick dead in the drive and he remembers when they bought it new not so long ago and damn those years gone and her gone and the roof 'bout rotted off the house and the stove don't work and the knees ache so bad you can't go and getting old must be a crime 'cause goddamn they take it all and lock you up and swear it's for your own damned good
i am something whispered i couldn't quite hear and i am wanting to know exactly what was said and why
something muttered in a foreign tongue with a smirk and a sly look and giggling and shushing when i come near
and i can only guess and check myself and speculate with what little i think i heard and tell myself it's nothing, it doesn't matter what was said because i am simply who and what i am and that, my friend, is that and it is enough
open the book turn to Isiah 7:10 to Paul's Letter to the Corinthians to Revelations 65:17 to Suzuki's page 58 Tao's Chapter 56 Mishna 1:5
open the heart chakra hymnal to number 362
holy, holy, holy
focus midway on Nichiren's Gohonson chant devotion to the Lotus Sutra cast the spell for new beginnings with right intention when the moon is new and pray only in Arabic at five specific times a day ...