Foggy Zen

Saturday morning exercise class 

Why do I commit

To these things?

Alright, 

It's at noon 

But still. . .

Today we have overcast 

Which makes it seem 

Like 

Blah- 

There is a wind chill factor 

Which makes it seem colder -

There is also a fog factor

Which makes it seem -

Older 

Motivation seems 

Nonexistent 

-get up and go-

-zip- of any kind 

Hard to find 

Missing in non-action 

A-o-l 

-Without leave 

Absent -

Vacant- 

Zen - without effort 

Old age 

(And fog)

Have done it 

For me 

Dishes. . .

Of all the people
On this earth
There is one
Who thinks
I'm special -
That's special

He may be crazy
May be misinformed
But
I'm not going to
Tell him just
Yet

It will be my special
Secret
One I will hold
Dear

And if he ever does
Come to his senses
And find someone more
- well adjusted

I will treasure
The time we had together
And wish him well
As he begins another journey
With the one
Who has all
Her dishes done
- always 

Forever

Backyard campfire. 

And all's right 

With the world 

Warm days

Global warming 

Are these the last days ?

Candles push back the darkness 

U r busy 

Elsewhere 

The fire has died 

The remnants of 

The pine tree 

I cut down 

To save the 

Pipes -

Glow 

And give 

Warmth 

I hear the roadway -

People rushing 

Somewhere 

I wish 

I could stay 

This relaxed 

Forever 

Guacamole

It's all going to 

Come back 

To bite you on the A**

Everything you write 

Everything you say -

So why 

I ask -

do we even talk 

At all 

Why don't we have the sense 

To see this coming -

And shut up 

But what fun 

Would that be ?

As a child 

With no one to talk to 

A blank piece of paper 

Was a friend -

Someone who 

Would listen to 

All my moanings 

And groanings 

Now, I have no excuse 

Other than 

Pure cussedness -

I have learned to read, 

To write 

And to think 

And someone 

( maybe Al) 

Invented the 

Internet . . .

So now we write 

For a cloud of nebulousness 

Who is it 

That's out there?

That's the interesting bit 

I have no idea 

Who's listening 

Who's reading 

 But still, 

Like eating chips,

I dip 

Into the 

Guacamole . . .

Gently Rocking Train

Just nothin' like a 

Glass of wine on a 

Gently rocking 

Train

Pacific surf liner -

In the dark 

And you by my side -

Muted conversation

Shuffling cards -

Solitaire 

- on the phone -

-Can't see the scary tunnel 

When it's dark outside -

Will probably hear it 

And wish 

For another glass -

Of wine 

But must maintain 

In public -

Can't be too comfortable 

Just -

On the edge of relaxing -

Thanking all the gods ---

We are not 

Driving !!!

Train and Subway to LA

Train and subway to la. 

To see a play. 

There's a time for everything

I always swore I would never go 

Beneath the streets to ride 

In the dark 

In earthquake country 

I kept my eyes closed 

Almost 

The whole way. 

Relieved there was no 

8.0

On the Richter scale . . .

A Play about Mormons

In darkest Africa 

They come through my neighborhood-

Sometimes 

But what about women ?

What about divine mother 

Don't they know her 

In her brilliant light 

What of their hearts 

And their bliss 

And the joy 

     Of the Holy Spirit 

What has that to do 

With golden plates? 

The gold would be the color 

Of the chakra that opens 

And showers us with

Droplets of 

Golden 

Shimmering 

Joy

Siri

Speaking to Siri 

Letting her right

SHe doesn't know right from right

Write

I could say, letting her type

But then how would the creative process

Be affected by machine