For Annie Fitzgerald
That was something
A waterfall
A dam burst
A noonday sun without a cloud in sight
All that emerging out of that co-counseled Buddha mind of yours
I feel the stirrings of greed inside me
Did you ever hear of the band
“Me First and the Gimmee Gimmees”?
Gimme some more of that mind
I know some people who did me the kindness
Of reading all 400 pages
(OK, maybe they skimmed some of part 2)
Of a book I wrote about some 10+ years of my life
Do they ever consider I’d want to read a book from their brain?
Could you yourself contemplate such a wonder?
20 minutes of writing like a bodhisattva bursting outta hell
All that pain and humor
Pain touched with humor
One snapshot of the topic:
"Where I was four years ago”
You’ve got a thousand and one such snapshots
In the mind swirl of stillness
Gandhi taught the world
“Satyagraha”—
Holding on to truth
a.k.a., soul-force
All the wealth you’ve got
To lavish on us
=
The wealth of your soul-force
(Some morning come to my front porch
4514 Chouteau
And play your new-used flute
That’s soul-force too)
You can ignore me
OK
But I know that you know
Somewhere deep inside you
That what I’m saying
Is accurate
All too true
Just the way you read it aloud to me
As we sat outside at Northwest Coffee
Told me you knew the treasure you had there before you
So the truth is out
I know it
You know it
No need to feel proud
Or self-effacing
It’s just the way it is
If you want
100 Saturdays
With me
At the various coffeehouses of Midwest USA
Sitting inside or outside
Noon or nighttime
I’ll do it
100?, you protest
Isn’t that over the top?
Let it be over the top
Let it be unreasonable
Let the demoncriticcrowdofNazihighschoolEnglishteachersinyourhead
Say whatever they want
100 Saturdays of writing practice
= one Annie Fitzgerald book
I’m saying this to you
Straight from the heart
The broken & bleary
Neurotic & neuralgic world
Needs your lines in English
Of Beauty, Contemplation and Healing
Thus spaketh Shimmelstoy
Om shanti shalom salaam
Na na na na hey Jude
Namaste forever
And ever
Amen
Well, here I am walking over to Jay's after dinner at Pho Grand with my beloved and our dear son, the wounded one fresh back from Afghanistan - he told us he has stories we don't want to hear and that he can't share. UGH and damn - anyway walking down South Grand in the warm evening as it cools and there is Evenn waving at me from behind glass, jumping up to come to the door, we hug on the sidewalk. I tell him I haven't written for 2 days. Quick, brief encounter that revives my writing spirit and just seeing him says ZAP go pick up the pen, and then I get home, water plants, wash the onions I picked from my garden and forget about writing until I read email and marks' post - so to the paper and pen I go without further delay - with such a support circle -well..onward, dear ones!
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