VELOCITY
It goes by fast really it can go by quick
like water evaporating from the soles of hands
or a flower turning its head down between its leafy knees
considering IT all considering IT all
It will get by you and you will gaze
dripping into the rearview mirror
mesmerized by your own feats
your glory-filled accomplishments of light and heat
the times when you were of the Zone
and your solar plexus bloomed into a bouquet
of white stargazers and purple forget-me-nots
and everything was recognized on a bright green grid
where solitudinal pep talks passed the minutes
and hope was restored every hour on the hour
and the crystal became clean of its mud-encrusted sins
and young bearded men shook hands and patted each other’s backs
speaking of the next Friday and the Friday after that
of the wonderful expanse of time leading into the future
but it can get by you, pass you like roadkill and a car
blur through your head streamers at a very high speed
the velocity of time is equal to the energy of love
and let there be a tranquility in that
a relishing and a savoring
of the butter and of the wine
of the cool flowers next to our throats
for it will extend itself to you even before you are ready
before you’ve had a chance to reclaim your terrible innocence
and the shivering lambs will bleat and the carpenter bees will wobble
and the parallel dimension shall make you one of its own
WHEN YOU SEE THE BUDDHA
and when you see the Buddha
his eyebrows will be comprised of deer moss
and his belly shall contain the sadness of a river
floating with dead tree branches
and when you see the Buddha
he will appear to you as priest of the invisible
slipping from his lips shall be a mute poetry
summoning one true moment in the highlight of a house chamber
and when you see the Buddha
his ears will resemble antennas and ferns
picking up a melodious frequency
from the gateway of emasculated stars
and when you see the Buddha
he might take the form of a pregnant woman
who used to be a disgruntled man
who now holds the secret to everything deep down inside
and when you see the Buddha
he might tell you that there is no blessing
and that there is no sin
but squint you must through the interlacing leaves of the Bodhi tree
and when you see the Buddha
ask him if he’s ever been hit with a belt or had his nose broken by an envious fist
ask him if he’s ever had his heart punctured by the spike of a high-heeled shoe
or gone hungry for four wicked days in a row
ask him if any war is worth the casual loss of limbs
and whether humans have the legal right to construct laws
ask him if we all wallow through this terrible tide of shit
or whether it’s all just a state of mind
ask him if the homeboy in the wheelchair will ever fuck again on the beach
or gain any real sense of unmitigated peace
ask him if the flowery narcotics are a benefit to our elevated heads
or whether they are representations of the lacerations to our true aspirations
ask him if the ivy vines ever lose their direction along the way
and if you get to the top of the mountain, isn’t it just a different place to be?
ask the Buddha if he ever wears socks and if so what color are they
and were they manufactured in a sweatshop in the Philippines
by 9 year-old children smoking cigarettes?
ask him if women are inherently a cruel cruel breed
or whether they are wisdom-filled angels
ask him if actual wealth is actually possible
or is it all just a disillusioning illusion of a mockery of a sham
ask him if Everything in this life is sacred
or that Nothing is really sacred and Nothing really matters at all
and does there really exist a Buddha within the center of the iron bell
or is it just thick forged metal sitting in a darkened lump?
there does exist a Buddha, there does exist a Buddha
there is no Buddha, there is no god
there is no wisdom, there is no knowledge
there is no god except for god
and when you see the Buddha
he will know absolutely Nothing
but he will be the thinker of all things
and his eyes will light with the flame of eleven thousand candles
tended to and puffed on by silent Chinese dragons
and his legs will cross like licorice in a jar
and he will embody the lines in all things
and by the way, when you see the Buddha
tell him that I said hello
and that I really miss my baby
SURETY
And there shall be no surety
no surety to be sure
no surety in the fine print of an insurance policy
nor in the vows of a wedding in the pelted spring
and there shall be no surety in the big shifting plates
holding the floor together at the bottom of the scabbing sea
nor in the ever-changing riffs of the mottled mockingbird
nor in the names given to babies by fickle mothers eating strange foods
nor will there be a surety at the ballot boxes hidden by cheap drapery
or the bpm ratio no exact surety in the frequency of beats
or in the scanning of cats or in the airbrakes of flatbed trucks
no surety in the holding of a gown or the hellbent course of a twister
or in the rusty blade of an oyster-shucking knife
or in the landing of a kiss well-positioned
nor can there be a surety in the ending of a badly written mystery
or in the lime deposits lining the centers of 19th century pipes
nor can there be surety in the ghost-written biographies of actor politicians
or no surety in the purity of the little white rocks peddled
out on the corner of Adams and Harcourt
or in the number of fibers in replica clothing sold by Armenian wholesalers
at the downtown bazaar in downtown Los Angeles
or in the actual number of cards left in the black shoe of a green table
or in the cheap promise of a mistress holding car keys
or in the plate glass window of a Tel Aviv department store
or that the grains of sand in a beachcomber’s boot
equal the number of exploding stars in the sky
and there shall be no surety, no surety to be sure
when the EKG goes to VTAC then VFIB and then flatlines for a moment
but there shall be a certain surety in the diapers of colic babies
and there shall be a surety in the wicked knots of trees
and there shall be a surety of taxation and imperialistic wars
and it is with certainty that the gargoyles will protect the faith of the city
and it is sure that you will have your aorta crushed somewhere in the process
and that the human spirit will find its way into you and breathe
and there is surety about the river, unless of course it dries up
and surety about the planets spinning, the spinning planets
and there exists a surety concerning corruption and love
wherein the miffed party is the one who always loses
and the apple tree shall offer its fruit, sweet and mutated
and its roots shall hold the weight of all salivating things
and the salmon shall bloody themselves upon rocks to swim against the stream
and the foxes will dig their noses down into the moss and into the dirt
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE
You are the labyrinth
within the shell of an insect.
You are a bedeviled god.
You are the pads of pills
layering the tongue.
You are the clear bed of wax water
laying in wait for the wick.
You are the witch bent on happiness
stroking her throat with a stick.
You are the creator and the destroyer
fondling a pack of safety matches.
You are the confused stallion
running back into the burning barn.
You are the pair of alligator heels
clicking down an empty corridor made of malachite.
You are the soured milk bubbling
within the bottle of a spurned baby boy.
You are the mountain chickadee
slamming into the window of a winter cabin.
You know who you are.