Can you play music?

Good gracious

This has all been so natural

And each turn, each curious turn

Makes it more, makes it say, “Hello we

hear you and give clearance to your

request. Take off. Green light. *a small

crackle from a secret walkie talkie*

Captain, we know you have no leadership

skills.  And yet, we’ve voted and accept

this insane set of orders. Let’s climb,

hungry leader of hot flesh.”

And so, they climbed, they rose

And when they reached a reasonable

campsite, the voices started.

“ get your hand off my tits.”

“stop, don’t touch that.”

Two of them spread peanut butter

Over white bread.

The toaster went on, but there wasn’t

A specific order.

Reach for the ruck-sack; There IS NO RUCKSACK.

Then is there “no” reality?

We all paint with digital insects more quotation

Marks, we take two by two and smash them

Like little lifted markers of relevance.

These things taste better by the fire light.

Fade champions kiss in small eye movements.

There’s nothing to fear – nothing at all –

Can you play music???

What flows to the resonance of your ears??

Jumped without saying, “I’m leaving.”

There’s a sad eye who sees down the rooms

Sees down the room-way and there sleeps

One who knew, before all the wind stopped

In a Spring House, in a street with enough

Movement to allow small ones.

Can you play music???

Can you??

Who knows who cares

Script of season, take blows

Take smiles, we mean what someone

Who forgot to join thought, at the

Beginning, of course.

You’re writing a novel there.

This is what happens.

I was just breathing the bass.

Pre-Sun in Kyle’s Alternative Palace

the punch of weakness

in a room where they all

know you’re writing

how can the husk

the husk of stone dry organs

register before the recurring finale

starts to betray my grace machine?

it’s hot and dank like summer mulch –

only Spring in the city –

this last trick, my whiskey

there comes now

one witness

comes to endure with me


she who borrows fur

not hiding

but playing along

in this most trying hour

only she counts my sips

cold reckless pulls of tap water

they stir, the others

feigning sleep or benign rest

keeping sensitive to this witness

who seems to mean all of this

really mean it

her small accountable motions

while he counts his moves

over there

before returning

to write nothing

the wolves stay still

all of them 

Brain Food

Justified deception is perpetual separation, and is the dysfunction in which we succumb to lifestyles of agonizing isolation even when surrounded by so many.

Now in our culture, we’ve been trained for individual differences to stand out. So you look at each person and immediately see brighter, dumber, older, younger, richer, poorer, and we make all these dimensional distinctions, put them in categories, and treat them that way. And we get so that we only see others as separate from ourselves, and the ways in which they’re separate.

And one of the dramatic characteristics of experience is being with another person and suddenly seeing the ways in which they are like you, not different from you. And experiencing the fact that that which is essence within you and which is essence within me is indeed one. The understanding that there is no other. It is all one.

Richard Alpert