Patience
i’m waiting for the president to ditch
his suit and tie and give his speech
in his underwear, looking down
at his crotch instead of teleprompters
i’m waiting for star’d generals to
dismiss their soldiers and abandon
the armies and instead commit themselves
to mental hospitals where they will
play dominoes and grow arugula
i’m waiting for Bob Marley
to visit his own grave, after catching
a flight from an unknown island
in the Bermuda Triangle and
return again to the stage where his song
is forgiveness and standing tall
i’m waiting for Bob Kaufman
to delete the month of April
from all calendars everywhere
and instead replace it with a joint
of marijuana sprinkled with hash oil
and chanting his song of silence
until every child understands beggars
i’m waiting for the inventors of bombs
to fall to their knees and ask God
if he can spare a lollipop or mercy
or whatever is His will until they
realize bombs don’t kill the soul
that is eternal, only the body which
is already weak and seeking a way out
i’m waiting for bones to set up
a family reunion with dust so they
can familiarize with each other after so
much time apart, and get drunk and
tell each other their memories of their
long lost friend freedom who they
invited but did not give
an RSVP soon enough
i’m waiting for politicians to
explode to pieces once they learn
what their names mean to people in
homes they will never visit or pass out
from dehydration so Americans can
put red white and blue marigolds
in their mouths
i’m waiting for Jesus to return
to earth hopefully on TV at
Pat Robertson’s church so He can
nullify all of those speeches and
take back the wine that is His blood
and drink it until he’s drunk to remind
the congregation that they are cannibals
i’m waiting for roses to blossom
upside down so i can dream of
picking them, admire the roots and
pour beer into their soil so they
will talk to me and answer my
questions about the scarcity of spider webs
i’m waiting for my broom to grow
legs so i don’t have to push it any longer
and instead sing to it the song that was
cradled by Coltrane’s cheeks when he
blew deep, wordless wisdom
into the night and day and to anybody
who has ears let them hear
i’m waiting for my collar to pop itself
so my neck will no longer be lonely
and can cuddle with cotton late into
the night on the couch watching reruns
of The Simpsons while sipping screw drivers
where the orange juice was poured first
i’m waiting for the sun and moon
to make love so i can raise their children
as the stars they are and were born to be
and they will not be afraid
of heights because i’ll teach them
to never look down
i’m waiting for Johnny Cash
to put his middle finger in
the guns of all police officers
everywhere so no more men
will be shot for reaching
at their empty wallets
i’m waiting for every single diamond
to return to Africa and for Bill
Gates to get out of there so the
worth of the people can be recognized
as something of themselves that
they always owned and it was only
an illusion that it could be taken
i’m waiting for architects to
collect every single snow flake
that ever fell so they can throw
them back to the clouds in order
to be undisturbed by their own vomit
i’m waiting to eat my wallet
so i can get out or get gout
or be given any disease that
i would never wish on you
i am alive i think
i’m waiting for the Bible to be
translated into the heart’s language
so there will be no more misunderstandings
or contradictions and people will
no longer put their hands into flames
but instead meditate on the power
of sour apples and tree trunks
i’m waiting for the first law
of nature to rewrite itself
upon the tongues of mothers
so when they kiss their children
they will know they are loved and
that their feet are gallons of milk
i’m waiting for truth to grow
a mustache so you will not recognize
it by its appearance but by what
it possesses when it uses your wine glass
as a toilet and gives you
frozen strawberries for breakfast
i’m waiting for Eckhart Tolle
to abandon his lips and instead
speak the stillness with his dance
so everyone can know what it feels
like when desire and need are happily married
i’m waiting for a sneeze to
turn into a prayer or a prayer
to turn into white gauze
that turn red because for every
brain there is a bayonet but
for every mind there is a galaxy
i’m waiting for Hafiz
to get drunk it won’t take long
so i can talk to him about
suffering and leather and tears
and evolution and chocolate until a smile emerges
i’m waiting for my dreams to realize
compassion and hope are weapons
so when i sit down to meditate
i can put this planet in my hands
and learn to love it All
no matter what
Many Names
there is a voice in my head
that tells me
i cannot do this
(that is the brain talking)
there is a voice in my head
that tells me
i have to do this
(HEART TALKING)
all of my heroes were
first rejected, not until they were gone
was their work respected
(never were their lives understood)
what else is there to do but
get drunk by myself and
throw paper airplanes at God’s feet
with little notes scribbled between
the wings because i dream
of angels–
“your love is fathom’d but
seldom understood”
“i don’t know if i should fear you
when i hear you”
“are you looking at me in the mirror?”
a hawk glides in the sky
searching for dinner,
i put dinner in the oven
God has many names
Hide My Tears Behind Your Teeth
the stars stand in the sky
with their feet planted beyond us
like soldiers waiting in line
ready for battle
just another expression of God’s imagination
i see one fall, i see one stall
halted light–millions of miles away
yet, still close
i am here but not here
i am you but not you
sunshine! sunshine!
i do this so future generations
won’t have to
i do this to map my thoughts
so i can look back when i’m lost
and realize i have never been found
the stars are now napping
behind the clouds–
one winks at me because
we know each other
i’ll invite ’em to my wedding
we get drunk together
we throw cherries at cop cars
we go fishing and play catch
Orion’s belt is loose
sagging his pants again
i do this because who
is going to hold the horizon’s hand
when it crosses the street?
i do this because the engine
in my heart needs it’s oil changed
every so often
God coughs and another star is born
God sneezes and we realize how tiny
the earth really is
i do this because the
San Francisco Chronicle cannot
hold my tears–i have reservoirs
they say you haven’t meditated
until you weep,
i say you haven’t meditated
until you laugh
i do this because i don’t know
what my smile looks like
until i see it
on you
Everywhere Teachers
i started my foundation
in the heart
and built a house without walls
a home with no name
i’ll continue writing until
my poems fall from the sky
like Satan did
i’ll continue writing
until my words bloom
on the petals of lotus
and rose bushes
i parted ways with my ego
but it always follows me
i listen to Monk and think
to myself “i could do that,”
i read Thich Nhat Hanh and think
to myself “how simple”
you are a drop in the ocean
and the ocean would be less
full without you
if you do not understand me,
just know, i am talking to myself
with myself, much pain
with myself, much explaining
with myself, much grief
with myself, much doubt
i’ll continue writing
until all of the world’s statues
crumble and become dust
the words are free / the voice is expensive
you can take my words but you cannot
take my voice
Wojciech, do you wash your asshole?
Wojciech, when was the last time you got laid?
Wojciech, why must you fall in love so often?
i’ll continue writing
until all of the answers are replaced
by questions
when will this world know peace?
(when will you know peace?)
when was this world born?
(when were you born?)
where is this world headed?
(where are you headed?)
i part with my ego (again)
it will find me soon enough
lest i jump into a pool of sharks
i continue to do the things
i tell myself i cannot do
carve that path / lift that boulder
the ant is my guru!
When I See It
why do my eyes want
to commit suicide?
depressed at what this world shows
them, every tear is lake Shasta,
falling upon Mt. Diablo cheek bones
a man wears cologne because he is afraid
of the scent of death,
a woman wears perfume because she doesn’t
want the man to recognize her
as an animal–
slight details / feeble mind
the heart is strong
the heart is strong
DO NOT POUR CONCRETE
INTO YOUR HEART UNLESS
YOU WANT TO BE A MONUMENT
buildings are erected,
bombs are dropped
oil goes into the water
bullets spread wings
law makers are a tumor
to my toiling, malignant
i’m gonna need a scalpel
or a chainsaw
i know blood when i see it
How Many Words
the sight of two hands
cutting reality
in half–
(their sound is the same
music the wind makes
when it sings)
the sound of two feet
bringing together
all that can be stepped on
(their song is the
sound of a sneeze–bless you)
the mind unhinged,
what will you do
with someone’s care?
lesson? love? attention?
i come here because i cannot
arrive anywhere else and i
removed my photograph in
my high school yearbook and
replaced it with a green onion
i come here because my eyes
bleed carrot juice and my vomit
is repulsed by my soul
what else is there to do
with decay?
how many words do you have
for death?
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