dream of fundoshu park

So,
it is important to try this
to check this
see if i can type like this
away from the mouse>>>
will that make a difference?
big problem: i cannot read it.
sizing it to to the window
the ruler on top is just short of Seven
the keyboard in my lap
feet up
this may be perfect
nothing to get distracted by
sitting back
in the chair like this

Tell me: how do you feel?

i feel OK.
not so bad…
i mean
this last week
two weeks?
since i first smoked pot?
or was…
well, i’ve felt pretty terrible since i got here
but it’s been an evolution
of course
the first few days i was here i already felt angry with Leo
and that only lasted a few days
then i just loved him for a few weeks
my heart was so filled with sadness
maybe i was just in my heart
feeling everything…
but no, it was before the marijuana i was angry with him again
the trip down
the first trip down
i’ve been pretty angry with him since then
the marijuana helped me just be honest in my body with it

ideally
i would like the patience to just let him ramble on about how much he hates the world
how disappointed in it he is
how glad he is to leave it
go back to God
what do i expect?
by being angry with him he’ll see the error of his ways and repent?
They have already made their choice: they worship the next world, not this.
i belong to a different cult, me and Allen Ginsberg
we’re here
we’re suffering it
we’re loving it
hoping beyond reason there is a way to get past the impossible
to heal the unhealable

what has my mind been doing lately?
i sat back and thought of…
it passed through my eyes like a conversation
while walking on the road
in the rain
all the people
in suburban homes
or in these white trash shacks
or in double wides
or wheelies
i think of the people of America
it’s hard for me to ever accept that they’re not fully conscious of every action they make
and every consequence

while Misha was talking with me
on the corner of the deck there
outside the chapel
i had that Acid type feeling
(goddess elk)
with full clarity that
– he was a bubble of earth. i was. we were. pushed through the fabric of reality
animate and together
some agreement
every being
every story
every catastrophe and fear
we have brought it here
everything beautiful
my hands open and cold in the beautiful winter air

of course
how come i never realized that solstices and equinoxes were the MIDDLE of the seasons? what ever made it make sense they were the beginnings?
does all of our Study abstract us from the apparent?

do we all forget
or are most of us mere champagne bubbles?
beer?
soda pop?

i remember thinking earlier this year
or last year
or yesterday
about how i was done with Leo
how he was condemning himself to death
and i had to accept that
and be fine with it
i gave my reasons why it was good
and how i was absolutely fine with letting go of it
i had my two weeks of mourning when i arrived
all my clinging
now i’m back to just being in it
and again
i just think the only thing good for him to do is let go at this point:
i don’t hear how he likes being here
i only hear how it hurts him.

it’s true
to live
we have to decide to live
we have to decide that with each breath
every moment

it makes sense to know that life is good
we are here only as we can be
it is only what it is now
the best we can do is remember that we are loved by it
as we love ourselves
all of it
and though we have no idea what is coming next
to have faith in our own love
to endure the experience
and keep walking

he told me my main work here is to identify this feeling of being stuck
do i really want to be at a party?
am i really enjoying living in that big populated city?
i do like
i do need…

the constant interaction
the watching, listening
the desiring of desiring
the moving of movement
the learning of teaching
and how

but here
in this silence
i would like to learn stillness
and not stuckness
i would like to remember
and beyond, what i never got as a kid
how to just breathe
and that one breath
catching every missed one
that night’s sleep
resting every avoided dream
to read, understand, remember every book
to sit, feel, communicate every thought, story
with full anger, appreciation, and love

that’s all i want
to be a singer
another satellite speaker
mouth of the unsayable
heart of the unlovable
truth of the unknowable

in my dream last night
i left my lover, my charge…
we went to visit his friend
who would not reveal himself to us
presenting himself behind a gigantic puppet of a pumpkin
i excused myself to use the restroom
knowing it was around back, through the hall
but i walked around the block instead
on the corner, an odd intersection
old deco building housing public restrooms
frosted glass, green metal
(this was Kreutzberg or The Village)
i pushed open the men
and it had just been rehabbed
reopened
a large foyer
beautiful stairs down
to a huge open space
gender separated
a wall of new hip fashion
hand-screened shirts
some hand painted
hats, paintings on canvas
and the other wall
huge old tile terrace cascades of warm water
boys naked
sauna/baths/steamroom
public rest room
i stayed till it closed
claiming some hand-made books from the glass cases
a few t-shirts
and a special edition shirt in a vintage ammo box
did i bring any money with me?
some other people were opening one of the ammo boxes
what does the shirt look like?
i heard them saying something about how it’s all the newest artificial fibers
which put me off
the shirts were long and baggy but thick, like apron versions of vivian westward punk shirts, the paint was thick and rubbery and overbearing
$160 for the shirt
ah…

they were closing the doors
night at come
everyone was supposed to have left
there was a fashion show starting in the hallway, now open, between the men’s and women’s side
which was also an art gallery
industrial green tile

sitting next to a wooden bookshelf is Catherine Keener
writing in a journal
but in the dream she is Katrin Cartlidge
maybe she’s playing her…
but she’s her
and she’s crying
and writing in a lined notebook (muji)
the show is starting
the crowd has gathered
i can’t find the stuff i was going to buy
i don’t have any money anyway
and the shop is closed
and it’s night?
where did i leave my friend?
do i know where to meet him?

it’s 5:36 am
and i’ve woken up in a motel room next to man i met at a bar in SF
a man i found attractive
and he decided to drive up here and get a room to spend a night with me
why?
i hadn’t given a massage in over a month:
Leo isn’t liking being touched for the most part
just barely
and doesn’t seem to enjoy massage from me
or cuddling…
and as i wrap my arms around his man
i feel his life
the tension in his back
all of his pain and worry
and it flows through me
and i feel it in my body
and i know what to do with it
i know how to take it
to channel it
to flow it through and out
and when we’re laying on the bed
i’m laying on him
his chest hairs tickling my nose
locking in with my beard
and i can feel all the sadness
the tension
the worry
flowing out of me
into him
ease
calmness
and he says, later
“i guess that’s the great irony of your life
that the men you seek to be your father
to take care of you and give you comfort and love
you end up being the care taker for, and comfort them”
i suppose
i remember what i always used to say:
if you know what you need and can’t seem to find it
start giving it to everyone around you
soon you’ll be surrounded by what you need
and you’ll be nourished…

i don’t want anything specifically anymore
i want everything

of course
of course

the difficulty of being in integrity
with the great disparity of being. . .

if it’s simple
let yourself be loved
let it be simple
let yourself beloved
there is plenty
a million moments for complication
tomorrow will
“tomorrow will not be too late”

“i will take the sun in my mouth
and leap
into the air
alive
with closed eyes
to dash my
heart
against
the sleeping curves
of my body

i will enter
smooth
mastery”
(“i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped
in burning
flowers”)

i don’t know what are the proper gifts to give anyone
i hardly know what is good for me

but this rock is beautiful
and this burl
amazing
useful?
i don’t know.

the radiation from this wand:
healing?
what if it will poison us?
let’s decide it’s a Yin Wand
all their bullshit science talk
razed to Yin
Zero
the infinite possibility of Zero
of the Mother
of Yin

i told him, last night, of my
what
dark trial?
my saturn return
i guess
was that the biggest challenge?
(or the final breaking of my heart? final for that life…)
that i was sick
and found out
and got sicker
and laying in the dark
on the bed
on the floor
the rooves open around me
i asked for help
and from the darkness came Rasputin
an infinitely dark beast
with claws
and red ember eyes
come to eat my soul
terrifying and true
and i said to him
‘why be so scary? i know you are god coming to heal me… i need my soul devoured and you have come to eat me… do i have to pretend to be scared? can i just be grateful’
and i was and slept well that night
what did Crowley say?
those who have will still have
those who have not
will have everything taken from them
more than they can even imagine
was that it?
how are we ever supposed to be whole with these clothes on?
did i talk about clothes?
Last Night?
did i say
the unsayable
dressed up
the invisible man
useless to the viewer
unless you put clothes on him
but the clothes are never him
ya never see the truth
see the unseeable
all about that
last night
i knew
i know
i have to take it all off
every last hair
again?
let myself be eaten
burned
devoured
annihilated
dad’s favorite love
and what is eaten is perfection
and what is left is perfection
simplified

here you are
mirror of understanding
stay with me tonight
and always
today
in all ways
stay with me
in love