Let the poem
write itself
Don’t lead it on

map in hand.
Best to play hooky
and the world

or at least walk
the block

From meditation’s stance
poetry is my sadhana
What paces and moves me

is the intention
to be clear minded.
Not to

banish thought
but to be sure in its midst.
Through poetry’s eyes

meditation is my muse.
If thought is skeleton, then
image is flesh

if the world is body
breathe with it, breathe
through its bones

drink the blood
of its flesh. Hear
its heart beat

No shoes no water
pride ego the killing’s not done
Maniacal laughter

through the guts of the mandala
gnat mosquito palestinian

You name it
and so it goes on No shoes no water
pride ego

the beat is in play
North  South  East  West
the dance is in place

ebola oil Isis
US the killing’s not done

has a hand in it,
but not you not yet
You’ve climbed

the chain fence
from the schoolyard
down to the brook

and followed
the boulder lit trail
to the lake

and strayed the day
into dusk
The red lit cars

slowly pass
but you don’t run
hard and fast

until they turn
That makes no sense
the deciders

your turn will

it will all dead end.
Make no mistake
the killing the killing’s

never done


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