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Lifting horn to freshly cleared mind
Cold metal pressed to battered lips
Ears making involuntary adjustments
Air sending sounds to every corner of the room
Sweat streaming down, blinding eyes
Vibrant colors emerge from behind closed lids

Breathing, anticipating
Raising horn in jubilation
Arms moving fast

Thinking, not thinking
In a key, out of a key
Tongue, teeth, lungs, all coordinating to reach new
parameters of communication
Connecting with strangers sitting in darkness

Yelps of encouragement

Sept. 3, 2000



Hoarding shards of perceptionless vibrations,
Smiling down tirelessly suffocating fears,
Crossing rivers on the backs of formless jealousies,
Climbing over the last dead, rotting insecurity.

There and then, the Now appears

Opening arms so as not to take them up,
Lifting the front end of strollers up subway stairs,
Listening to the silence of the void, before the first note touches the air,
Gazing on the endless power and possibilities of the present.

Witness this harvest of the Now from which such sweet fruit is bared

Glint of night retreating from newly sown seeds of breath,
From behind glass walls, fragile self-esteem steps aside
As soul reaches out, knocking it all away --
Free to connect to the world again,
Sending isolation to its lonely grave

Yet staying vigilant, listening for the next crowding in of thoughts, Unwittingly ready to erect new enclosures.
What's it like to live in the past or future of your mind, I've mostly forgot, Confusing the Now with the fantasy of some other place and time,
Some other experience, never resembling mine.

Maybe seeing where I am right now is not where I'd hoped to be,
But being able to BE that NOW in THIS time and space and KNOW
The transitoriness of a situation and NOT let it determine who I am,
But to know the wholeness of it all
And not be swept away, lost, somehow, in the cluttered musings of some illusion.

This is the lucidity of the immediate,
The arrival of living.

No more prisons of the mind, body or spirit,
No more how-it-is-your-supposed-to-be police,
Rambling, ramble
Slowing, slow
Center, centering
Now, now

The five skandas, both simultaneously present and destroyed,

This is the challenge.

The rich, the poor,
The shuckster, the hustler,
The businessman, the homeless,
Those most proud of being gas guzzlers.

All in need of this Now,
Not simply a bunch of words,
But something once found,
The beauty of which paves a lush path to the infinite,
Transforming the victims of the swamp into the Poets of the Now.

July, 2002


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November Black Goat Tour Poems 2003


Get to the essence,
Resident essence
Flowering on the
         celestial byway
         of here, there
        whatever, wherever
Whenever the Northeast
        Corridor recognizes
Its time to reboot
The roofing of the other



Reasons and doubts
Never hurt everybody.
Next rest stop:
Never. Write the
Yesterdays everyday
Academy of higher
         sobbing washes out
In the clearing of
The workshop of
          the fire of


Caution, voyager
Bridge the Bristol
With Bebop,
         and Jersey City
         and too much
                  time on your
                  hands to
                  know this is not
                  right and that
                  might be worse
                  but never knowing
                  the lesser of
                  two evils equals
The hot, Biblical Hell
of alternating spaces of
someone else's making
Forgetting the business
of here.


More people are
Buying Fords.
Glittering longhorns
         and ferocious
Bucks traversing
The tired ground
          of your unrecognizable orb,
Determined to fulfill
           their destiny,
Rest assured.



Sprockets of unreal
Isotopes short-circuited
By the change
In the electro-molecular
Constraints imposed
By the government of
The people magnetically,
By the fed politicians
Who never seem to
Have enough of
What they don’t know




I live in your shadow
Starving for what others
         feel entitled to
         gorging themselves on,
         without knowing,
         innocently assuming
         the “others” have
         the same rights and
         all is just within
         their reach if they
Work hard, pull themselves up by
         their bootstraps
If only. Liberals, new agers too.



Your shadow envelops
Saying you are right there
          with me,
Until the emergency road
          says exit quickly.
And with good reason, too