vectoresque

For Tibetan Buddhists, because karma affects everything, there are no chance occurences. It is no accident, for example, that you are picking up this book.


karma means //you are doing this.//
micheal valentine smith put it this way
thou art god.
what about the stone? i ask budhha
and the fact i can't spell yr name?
he laughs and throws the stone.
it holds itself together doesn't it?


does internet writing cheapen writing?
does it create masks we fall into
which grow into us like a resonant waveform
both increasing and decreasing the bone
mass until we're all victims of elephanitis webosis?

why, may i ask, does writing need to be sacred?
that is a relic of the catholic church. if something
has sacredness, it has it b/c the entity viewing the thing
assigns it such. there is no intrinsic sacredness
you must look into the heart of you and say
here is where it shall dwell.

writing is a consequence of human brain activity.
the more people who are taught to write, the more will write.
and so the need for novelist disappears, so the need for poet
becomes internalized, so we all become

starz in our own memoirs and everyone we know
is fodder for the mill. is that ill/ness a bless
less mess or maybe all the lives are blest, guests
for such a short time here, to share and give
and live your will. or won't. our dos and don'ts.
what we do we muddle thru and what we don't we crave
we won't believe it will not make us happy don't
achieve the grace without the slappy, nappy sanppy
in your natty clothes, a bingams night, a ruthless rose.


cheapens it? well if price be dear bought by shortages
taught and glistened.

the flea market has all the latest kitsch.
that's why some people go there. hiding in the corners
are the baubles of yesterday. price tags soar.
or pummel. a bargain is still to be had.

i talked for a long while with the woman
who sold me the loveseat. somehow we exchanged
stories of her friend's grandson oh kids
today and such. it was such a pleasant
stranger's encounter , her son arrested
cus he likes his drink, on his birthday no less
one time bail out alma told him one
time, and my girl stories she's
had a taste of the life
already and how i'll have to give her the boot
when it's time or end up like the grandmother
thrall to abuses and careless treatment
doing laundry for an ungrateful martinet.
sigh. how kids don't appreciate their parents
till they become one themselves, or rather
till their kids get the teens.

i don't know how i'll get the sofa home yet.
but it was only fifty dollah and it's
the right size. she marked it down from 75 how could i
say no? that's why i splurged on silk
pajama's for my sis. and for my son who will not
i believe believe i bought them
instead of those pokemon cards he specifically
marked out for me but i want to get him
something i want to get him. something
he didn't expect. something he
wouldn't even dream of wanting
till he tries it on, silk.