Green Pond, Late August, Alone, 2000

I have those feelings again
like I had so long ago
when I was writing a lot, that surge
like when I was a lonely teenage
manic depressive compulsive obsessive daydream
fantasy king, only wanting to be a hero to myself
and to others, winning the big game
writing the great song
that would stop people in their tracks
saying the great and wonderful things
in poems and prose
I was to be the hero
who overcomes great odds
to do wondrous things
impacting society, and even sometimes
being the rascal bad boy
who gets away with what hung others

so now, so many years later
writing again, and getting the voltage surge
of contact and flow
but as before, the knees shake
because the ground quakes
and all of us too human types
feel it the most
now I know, nothing else matters
contact and flow

now with feet finally firmly on the ground
but still working on the next “Louie, Louis”
and the next “Battle of the New Orleans”
writing again, for a year now
but dream come true or not
I’ll never be perfect
glad I gave that up
always be weak, some ways
always the hero to myself
something pulling pushing me
always dear humanity
now I have contact, and flow
which I had forsaken
as I went undercover in the real world
got lost, wandered, eventually stabilized metabolism
leveled consciousness, learned to sit still
listen, observe, won the greatest lesson in our society
turned the TV off
after that the rest comes of its own
the greatest thing now
is contact, and flow, and the surge finally grounded.

---

San Francisco, Late August, Alone, 1975

I say, let us begin…here!
Let us pass the night
Under the soft spotlight of introspection
I have some beer
So let’s invest the time
minutely, in microscopic isolation
         In this hotel room
         my riches surround me
         Hemmingway, Joyce, and Whalen
         and Muir, and Lao Tze, and De Chardin
Let us drink, for we are s young as we think
and let us feast-----cheese and crackers
as music floats in thru the window
We’ll eat and drink as long as it lasts
today we feast, tomorrow we fast.

---

The Things We Tell Ourselves

the things we tell ourselves
on the threshold borderline
between the conscious and
the subconscious mind
who we are, what we can be
what beliefs, what doors can open
all arise from and return to
the things we tell ourselves
while waiting, or working, or waking
in the play of thoughts and feelings
for power all beings work
to steer and control
the things we tell ourselves
in the changing of the guard
and while the guard sleeps
or in the rattle of our tales
the building of our veils
fleeting images of dreams
firing off of neutrons
in the worlds behind the eye
the things we tell ourselves
projections in space and time
the world is a child of mind
born of spirit sparks
something in the center shines
may be we crystals next time
the world is a child of mine
we create our lives
and we live our creations, our beliefs
and perceptions form all the lines
something in the center shines
the world is a child of mind
may be we be crystals
may be we be crystals
                                     next time