Bush: A Mother Fucker

I’m a camera man.
I direct movies you haven’t seen yet.
Footsteps heard through a wall.
Tall glass of water. He’s that tall glass of water over there.
“Looks like a stiff breeze might knock him over.”

How’s your eye, how’s your eye?
After the dishes are washed, I let them dry.
Eyes are doing better after riot squad pepper spray fades.
He was told there were plenty of fish in the ocean.
He wondered which ocean they were talking about
and how to get there.

I enjoy homogenized milk because this is
a synthetic country, for god sakes, he rambled on.
The cold rattled him and the roads froze.
Boat flipped out onto the highway one hour
outside of D.C. blocking traffic as snow fell.
Some cars were thrown.

When the people got around downtown
the cops hardly would discriminate who
they tossed around and shot water cannons
in below freezing temperatures.
Protesters feet were sore but the radicals
kept on burning flags like incense and
making me proud.
Keep the lighter, brother.

Snowballs thrown up over the fence.
Cops helmets white fireballs explode
laughter as masses unhinge panels
and charge armored seemingly
soulless women and men.

The President is over there slowly
progressing up the road
through the Republican parade.
No backpacks allowed, no explicit
t-shirts either.
Love it or leave it.

But another girl with flag burning
anarchists screams “we’re American’s too!”
An anarchist on the ground screams up to her
“no we’re not. speak for yourself.”
We share laughs with one another.
Right on, brother. Keep the lighter.

We come to reclaim a warzone to create
gardens in vacant lots to block off to
reclaim streets.
We are light hearted and heavy hearted.
We are whatever we want to be.
Life hands us lemons.
We eat the lemons and the peels.

A man comes around the corner
with his little dog.
Young anarchist stops his yelling and
advises the man that the pepper spray
would be bad for his dog and to
take another route.
Oh really thank you he says
walks off retracing steps.
Go up those steps and get a
good view of the cops getting
raw and gassing up the area.
No surprise.

People in the hotel window
are smug watching the entire
event with martinis in hand.
Now that the cops are distracted
the shut down homeless shelters
are reopening.

Everything that
happens is to be expected.
This all occurs from accumulation.
We meet up later for
Chinese food
with the sorest feet
of all time.

Below our apartment Adam’s Morgan
is set ablaze with 70 arrests
with bank windows cracked
while we sleep sweet dreams
and toss and turn and
more flags curdle.
Ours are red and black or
just plain invisible.

Advertisements

Winter notes

– Slow movements. When you get cold, when you get sick—slow your movements down and watch everything that is happening. Enjoy life in the midst of pains.

– Travel to DC tomorrow. We will be there for a few days. The old ‘hood.

– My wife, my girl, my best friend, my sparring partner, has returned from an arduous journey. I have missed her to pure speechlessness. No one can tell me what I feel. I can tell no one what I feel.

– Writing fast or slow. Whatever I want it to be.

– Think of non-selfness (the inter-connectedness of all things). Think of impermanence. Think of Nirbana, the highest state of existence. Think of one, the others are included. And she was right, the argument and hard feelings vanished quickly. But her kindness reappeared, the bullet reversed out, the wound healed miraculously. The phone rang as I was driving. I talked loudly.

– I am still mourning the recent death of my friend’s cat. I am still mourning the Tsunami victims. Crazy how I dreamt this before it even happened. Link.

– Winter is a cave. Winter is talking much less. Staying in doors. Winter is all about reading. Meditation.

. . .

pretending people
are bodhisattvas
I saw a man
help carry a woman’s
case of books
into the used book store
acted like she
had won
he lottery

can’t hurt to pretend
just a bit

because I want to love people

I am tired of hating them
with bitterness in my heart

when the big innocent eyes
of our cat open up to us
I say
yes, he is a bodhisattva

it is easy to love someone like that
and it feels great loving
the troublesome, too

can’t hurt
seeing the world this way

. . .

restaurant
table lamps
quiver

she is
a breathing
statue

“if you think he is permanent, there is no room for improvement.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

tea
coffee
water
juice

letters
messages
notes
brain storms

CONFIRMED

Ali G. has in fact come to our town and stirred up some trouble! Amazing.

Link

A friend just stopped by with two photo’s of Ali’s character Borat on the front cover. I am rolling in the aisles as I type this.

2005, bring more of this!

Thich Nhat Hanh

Thich Nhat Hanh is a beautiful human being. Reading this in his book The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, really blew me away:

Even while you have pain in your heart, you can enjoy the many wonders of life—the beautiful sunset, the smile of a child, the many flowers and trees. To suffer is not enough. Please don’t be imprisoned by your suffering.

This one line: “Please don’t be imprisoned by your suffering,” just floors me. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s Hanh’s use of the word please. I can feel its sincerity.

The Fetal Uncurl

this state
of mind
of Virginia
this
state
of hunger
of need
yearning
agonizing
depression passed
down through
family
this state
of
being
mean

this state
this storm

this
coming and
going

this pattern
this stuck thing
this thorn
this splinter
in your foot

this occasion
this opportunity

this man
shouting when
he should be
talking
or being quiet

this state of
agitation
this sound
this suggestion
this tree
falling
when no one
is around
to witness
this
pain in
collapse
this syntax

this vibration
in this sneeze
and this
stranger’s
blessing
kazuntite

this dead
of night

this state of reality
this police state
D.C. still not
considered a
state
but
still great

this need for
organization
this need
for order
this dependency
this doctor prescribing
this new thing
this new addiction
that you can no longer
do without
here is your new water
here is your new air
here is your new year

now it is time again
to pay taxes
to fess up
to confess sins
to convince the jury
to impress the girl
to face the world
for the fetal uncurl
to walk the straight and narrow
to become upper class
to outlast and surpass
to crush all their pawns
knights and rooks and kings
and queens and
to chose and live with
consequences
to live in tight spots
to open pandora’s box
to sleep on
bed of nails
to be shaken to some point to
a new state
to awakening
this undoing

this state of
being forsaken
this state
your state
no one else’s
of being devoured
sleeping
in the belly of
a corporate beast
of Satan
Al-Qaeda
Aunt Jemima
terrorist or tourist
or florist
self interest
flourish

this garnish
on this plate
this enemy
of state
this anarchist
great divide
this great possibility
this expanding pride
this moment
this right now
this very here and now
this surprise punch to mouth
to show you how
this getting out of the house
devout
en route
water from a spout

this flowing
this undoing
of a whirlpool

quick letter

Hi small Ki,

this is a quick hello before I do my whole tea-drinking thing (not Red). just wanted to say hello, say I miss you, and that I love you. I am now getting back from poetry and hanging out downtown. I return to the cats who are both absolutely full of life right now. with just a light sweeping, Rudra is scampering about like wild horses. it’s really fun. there he goes again. it’s like…. “and they’re off!” that’s Rudra, owl ears turned back, that crazed look with those big eyes, and… LUNGE!!! then sneeze sneeze sneeze. I miss you and am anticipating your arrival. the 17th cannot come soon enough.

much love to you, small small…

-shouting person

Morning ashes

– Missy Elliott’s new show is quite entertaining in that train wreck kind of way. Who will get voted off the island next? Do you have what it takes to be a triple threat?

– Morning, the grey sky is revealed slowly behind the branches. Winter rain and fog, and a cough. The cats are wily.

– I am reading about Zen and mindfulness. I have started reading a comic about an ex-preacher who is hunting down God who has abandoned His post.

– My cleaning is mostly in order. The day’s challenge is depression which is sometimes overcome by getting everything organized and dusted off. When that is done, I sit and look about the room. The cats are sleeping. And I sometimes wonder what to do with myself next.

– The coffee shop is a good place to go to get out of the house. It is a combination of hanging out and talking with people—sometimes strangers, sometimes friends—people watching, reading, writing, and just enjoying life. Sometimes a friend will come in and bring bad news. At others, there are one too many derelicts on the sidewalk. The other day one was throwing up on the curb. Then he came in with vomit all over him and started talking to us. I left, but felt bad later that I was not kind to him. Now I wonder what has happened to him, and if he’s all right.

– Spicy Thai soup for breakfast. Acupuncture for the body’s chronic asthma syndrome and hip pains. I learn so much these days how everything is about balance. Soups, she says, are good for me, especially around lunch. Approves also of my relationship with Indian food. “Breathe like this…” she says.

– If I go to sleep around 11:30, I generally wake up around 2:30 AM feeling like I’ve slept a full night. Trying to ween myself off this Singulair, naturally I wake coughing with some phlegm, and wheezing. At this point, I make some tea and do whatever else I can to feel better, then begin to read. Wide awake like this, I can read in bed for what seems two or more hours at a stretch.

– Matthew (farmerpoverty) and I are working on a conversations book. I’ve promised him sometime this week I’ll send the rough draft.

– Am I retaining what I’m reading? Zen steers away from high concepts and goes straight for direct experience. I like this, and it reminds me of … Direct Action. The two, when you think about it, should go together. Direct Experience/Direct Action.

– Breakfast this morning is basically lunch.

– Meditation with the group went well as in I was present for the whole thing. That is, two sitting meditations with one walking meditation. Much of the time sitting I was screaming in my head. I have a lot of anger. “Anger issues.” “That guy has issues.” “That kid is pissed off.” I hide it well. No I don’t. Yes, sometimes I do. People can see it. That’s okay, let people see it.

– He told me about my poetry performance, “I was really shocked. You were really funny. Last time I think I saw you your stuff was very angst.” I told him angst is valid, but I think it’s important to mix it up a bit. I want my style to be broad.

– This other guy told me how he used to work for the “mob” in the old days, in Vegas, and that he liked it for the most part. Stay on someone’s good side and they treat you well. Isn’t that universal? Bless the mob for their moments of kindness.

– Is it me or is the show Boston Legal actually enjoyable? Not much left on TV these days, outside of HBO. Joss Whedon is off the air and returning to the silver screen. Come September, his epic Firefly will debut its first film “Serenity.” But with Buffy/Angel gone, what is there really?

– Joy is: …petting my small cat Kalika when she is sleeping. She is so soft and fuzzy. Now she is sniffing a fragrance in the air. …reaching clarity, my true state. …laughter.

– Thinking about going to a formal all day meditation retreat (sesshin) one of these days. This means I will really have to up the ante and get my mind and body used to sitting peacefully. Kind of a scary thought sitting for such long periods, but I’m intrigued nonetheless.

– Here’s a parable. Once a man was returning home from his voyage, only to find that his house had gone up in flames and there was nothing left. He panicked, unable to find his son. In the woods he found what he thought was his burned corpse. And so he kept these ashes with him in a bag and mourned in the following days. Three years later, the son was able to break free and found his father’s new house. Banging on the door, he shouted, “Father, it’s me. I’ve returned.” “That’s not possible,” he said, looking at the bag of ashes. “My son is dead. My son is in this bag. Go away! Go away!” So his true son was lost to him forever.

I was mentioning how beliefs are “bendable.” If we hold on to one single belief, doing so without really looking at others… we deny ourselves the ability of really seeing. We hold onto ashes thinking they are of value.

a small note

small ki,

I’m sending out the letter for you in the morning.

acupuncture today went quite well…. she did some serious voodoo on my hip and it’s feeling a lot better.

I’m grabbing some Boston Legal episodes for you, so you should be caught up. 🙂

that’s about it for now.

love you.