SACRED DANCE
The Bushmen of the Kalahari
dance all night in a circle
dance a calf-deep trench in the sand
In a circle around the circle
sit those in need of a healing
And because it is a sacred dance
any dancer at any time may step
out of the dance and do the healing
and then return to the dance again
Knowing without knowing
that everyone is a healer sometimes
everyone needs a healing sometimes
You just keep dancing
AWARENESS
If a pickpocket sees a saint
he only sees his pockets
If a saint sees a pickpocket
he only sees his soul
Wise man sees soul and covers pockets
THE POET LAUREATE AT NINETY FIVE
The new poet laureate is ninety five
he’s been working on his demons
for a long long time
Six weeks before the poet was born
his father burns his demons out
by drinking carbolic acid in the park
Mother burns father’s pictures
forbids mention of his name
Young Stanley finds one in the attic
and asks about the man
She tears the picture to shreds
without a word
and slaps him hard
six decades later he still felt the sting
Bright boy gets scholarship to Harvard
okay but forget about teaching classes
these were not the days when a Jewish boy
could teach their ivy league asses
Marries a poet, move to honeymoon farm
she disappears never to be heard from again
The new poet laureate has had plenty of pain
each day he wakes as a poet
not a man of ninety five
still seeing everything new
still glad to be alive
THOUGHTS TO PONDER – a story from the internet
An old Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt about the tragedy (9-11) and what should be done.
He said “I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving compassionate one.”
“So,” asked the grandson, “which wolf will win the fight in your heart?”
“The one that I feed,” answered the grandfather
SHAMAN’S STICK
When dead Shamans spirits
pick a new Shaman to carry the stick
they always start by making them sick
In every tribe in the natural world
they whisper and press the same old trick
you’re gonna be sick till you pick up the stick
you’re gonna be sick till you pick up the stick
Pick up the stick or your relative’s dead
pick up the stick or you stay in your bed
you’re gonna be sick till you pick up the stick
you’re gonna be sick till you pick up the stick
Life won’t be easy if you pick up the stick
life won’t be easy if you lay down the stick
You can’t teach a dead Shaman any new trick
so most times it pays to just pick up the stick
you’re gonna be sick till you pick up the stick
you heal the sick when you pick up the stick
REMEMBERING SOCRATES
Last walk on the Acropolis
Last look at the Parthenon
Last time through the door
of low roofed home
Last glass of wine at kitchen table
the tightness in the chest
Last talk with pupils and friends
comforting around the couch
Bitter taste of hemlock
Dead cold creeping from feet
up through legs, torso, chest
Spots of light leaps upward from brow
Where is Socrates asks the guide
did he die
Socrates is the light I reply
THE MAN IN THE DESERT
The man in the desert remembers
and a tear begins to form
A tear so long unshed
ninety percent of the water is gone
Dragging its chain of crusted drops
it carves a white canyon
down his long and leathered face
A cracked tongue between cracked lips
reaches to taste it – Oh so sweet
EAST OF KUNDALINI
Let in the love and give it when you can
See the pain and relieve it when you can
Get into religions and beyond them if you can
Follow all the Gurus and pass them if you can
Dive into each teaching for all the essence there
And strip and strip and strip until you’re bare
But keep my friends I pray a little sense of fun
For when the doings and undoings are all done
and the livings and dyings are all done
Somewhere East of Kundalini
The sun with rise _____ and _____ You will be the sun
EAGLE ON THE MOON
When the Eagle lands on the moon
the Indian will come back
into his power
When the mother is in pain
the children who never forgot
will remind
They will have the medicine
to heal her wounds
They will sit with her while
strength returns
And the children who forgot
will remember
and bring flowers
CIRCLES
Primitive peoples see life in circles
but we’ve tried to straighten them out
taught them how to get ahead
and what life’s really all about
For we know the ways of progress
and we’re moving along just fine
But did we forget to our own regret
that there’s nothing inside a line