STIR FRIED VEGETABLE WASTELAND  (for Jack Ringler; 1983, Laguna Beach, California)                  

 
here deep            
in the stir fried            
vegetable wasteland            
of my mind          
a kindred spirit salvages            
surviving seeds            
of thoughts on life          
offering fertile soil            
light and imagination          
he cracks          
the wok of life          
wide open          
as terrified snow pea            
feelings          
flee from            
the sizzling  hot oil            
of moral discern          
and the threat of            
oral consumption            
recedes with          
the waning phases            
of yet another            
summers moon          
as nights restless tides            
feel cool          
silent shores          
sandy feet brail            
dark ground          
awakened instincts          
speak          
sparking clouded senses          
imagination          
prowls alert          
feeling for new day          
while swathed          
in nocturnal adjustment          
the cat in me            
stalks          
dream like            
distant directions          
in accurate attunement            
with darkness s path          
forgetting          
just who          
and what i am
when a sudden        
perceptual reflection          
on the outer periphery            
of my animaled            
awareness          
suddenly recalls          
the proper            
tho presently dislocated            
presence          
of my actual being          
where in a flash            
i snap back            
into myself again          
dismissing the passage            
as a long suppressed            
sub shamanic feeling          
or distant memory          
a fleeting glimpse            
of forgotten instincts          
inner truth          
in knowing            
i still know            
i ll know again          
as the faint purity            
and easy pull            
of the primordial          
transcends          
the logics          
of more            
clearly defined realities          
whose coughing scoffers            
boff and scour            
with scolding eyes          
at the possibility            
of more than only            
one possibility          
beyond          
their definition            
their reality            
their rules            
their closed doors          
where the shut out          
misfits          
tend to hide          
and cower          
hanging on  letting go            
forever          
seeking more          
cannibalized by societys
much too rigid  
structuring          
impersonal sculpting          
of ones own life          
pressure placed            
disabled rights          
dismissed            
as the functioning          
alternatives pirouette          
beyond            
dissolving night          
here deep            
in the stir fried  
vegetable wasteland  
of my creative  
non linear  
intuitive  
mind