Seventy-Five.

Surely it's a sin to beseach God:
"Oh Lord, deliver me!"
Instead, pray thusly:
"Oh Lord, deliver us!"

*And Your Love, Gravity

Everything is sadness!
Sadness, sadness, oh Lord!
Sadness!

For You are the Sun*
but I am Pluto
Oh!
Make me instead Mercury
and yet still pull me further,
in arcs not gentle let me spiral inwards,
retracing ancient steps,
and vaporize
into You.

Sixty-Six.

Oh, I lay myself down
to bed, over and over
excusing my sloth
as if it were a recent visitor.

It took 25 years to get here
and in 5 more it'll be
"it took 30 years to get here".
No matter how long I spend
or how little I acheive
rest assured! I can conceive
of excuses and reasons
intricitely weaved.

But anyways! No one came down hard
on Michaelangelo
for taking more than a few years
to finish that whole
ceiling project.

On Possession.

There is no monopoly on Truth!
We do not possess it;
if we are lucky,
Truth possesses us.

God is contained by no book
and encompassed by no creed!
What could be more arrogant
than to claim ownership
of the Lord of alleverything?

Lower your fists
and close your books.

Sit, quiet,
and dissolve back
into Him.

Forty-Four-and-a-half

Glory be! God's within!
(but so is Hell--
Through the stomach and the lungs
sitting leaden
and all-consuming;
lonely guilty worrisome fearsome
lovesick lovehunger.)
Oh God!
I want to love everyone!
Oh God!
I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself.

On EMPLOYING CAPITALS

THERE IS NO MAN WHO IS NOT MY BROTHER
THERE IS NO WOMAN WHO IS NOT MY SISTER
THERE IS NO MAN WHO IS NOT MY BROTHER
THERE IS NO WOMAN WHO IS NOT MY SISTER
THERE IS NO MAN WHO IS NOT MY BROTHER
THERE IS NO WOMAN WHO IS NOT MY SISTER
THERE IS NO MAN WHO IS NOT MY BROTHER
THERE IS NO WOMAN WHO IS NOT MY SISTER
THERE IS NO MAN WHO IS NOT MY BROTHER
THERE IS NO WOMAN WHO IS NOT MY SISTER

Let me dissolve here and float
as a mist
down by the river
(thereby stripped of every possession but love)
and encompass all my Family;
quieting crying children,
softening the hearts of quarreling lovers,
jamming guns and
calming the angry blood
of a million cornered youths--
Shhh!
Listen...
<{[(I am the Truth!)]}>

On Uncertainty (again)

Uncertainty is
friend and foe
comfort and pain
a lousy lover
in a lonely city.
Draw close to the warm bosom
and sink into shallow sleep
unhappy where you are,
unwilling to move forward.

On Searching (again)

Looking for Truth?
Travel with a few words in your pocket
and when they begin to melt
and their meanings all mingle and run together,
you know you're near.
Close your eyes
and look for a door.

On Dissolving.

Do you feel whole and certain?
All I want to do is lay down
and dissolve into the sheets,
soak through them, drop below the mattress,
settle into the carpet and work my way
past cinderblocks and then
back, finally, to the earth.
And sleep there forever,
free, free, and finally, free.

It's 2006.

Yes, it's 2006
and almost seven!
And I've no beef with science,
no sir.
It's just that it's irrelevent(!)
I'm not looking out into the heavens
or down through a microscope.
And even string theory holds but a loose curiousity for me.
It's within me I search, below the sense and the synapses...
I CAN'T BURROW FAST ENOUGH!
Before existing fills it all in.
(Breathe.)
I can't reach far enough
to pinch the flame.

On Finding Heaven.

Nothing here matters!
But here's where I am.
And I can't dance, yet, forever with angels.
So may I sink silent & selfless beside you in bed
a quarter past three in the yellow-black morning.

On Searching.

O, dear brothers!
O, sweet sisters!
The Search doesn't end at the Lord
but only at the bank of a cold stream
deep in a misty wood,
far from home, far from neighbors,
far from lovers and far from habit.
Where you drop to your knees
(if you're willing)
and pull yourself up by the roots,
casting the sprouts of ego into the water.
Yeah, He's waiting somewhere
downstream of there.
Downstream of self.