Deepenings

photo by Donny

The title to this poem came, meaning was spoken into my inner ear, at the very moment in the movie Maestro when Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony ends, which the main character, Leonard Bernstein, is conducting inside Ely Cathedral, England.

You’re gonna light a fire then,
somewhere in your heart,
to see past form and measure.
I can’t show this to you.
This is big stuff.
I ride it sometimes
a formless thought
so big I can’t contain eternity.
I mean I see pictures
of the forms of things
and know they’re void.
I see the act.
I wonder over creation,
how formless it is
in reality,
in essence.
I mean there’s nothing there.
A hold on reality,
that is all,
some picture frame
that houses more it can be.

I’m riding the waves of time,
and I can’t believe it’s there.
It has formlessness attached
to every rod.
We’re seeing things
in the cough of the Void.
Oneness is there
absolute.
Now let me get at this seeing.

I see nothing
would not be the truth of the matter.
I see bright and shiny.
I see a world before my eyes
imbued with meaning.
It gets stuck sometimes.
Where does the meaning come from?
From my very lips.
That’s larger than sound.

A story is spoken into the Void,
and the aeons stamp it out,
and we hear it.
We can’t grasp its meaning,
but we know it’s there
animated by souls.
Oh my lovely little boy,
my Rottweiler,
my Doberman,
that candle on the street
honking at me,
they are all lit with soul.
I see it in their eyes.
I can’t get over the vision.
They’re larger than soul.

My God what’s in there?
Have you every been alone with yourself in the midst of another person,
in the grasp of the world?
They can be sucking your tongue.
Please, I’m a cultural enterprise.
Don’t bite me here.
You just stand there stark still
in disassociation’s quiverings.
Infinity bites the finite.
You can’t get over that guy.
That’s the one that has you in hand,
the maker,
the dream maker,
the unimaginable everything that’s about you now.
Can he grasp you?
Can he pull your pants down?

You’re robbed of sense.
This is a stark moment.
I bound there.
I know it’s comin’:
I never leave there again.

And I’ve caught you in half circles of it.
I cannot grasp to you its whole.
I’m not there sometimes.
I never get to that fullness
in my momentary lapse
into the lapse of infinity.
My momentary circles
just buy me lunch,
and I breathe awhile
everything is wonderful and strange.
I get so excited
I opera to myself,
and I get scared sometimes
it gets so deep.

I’ve given you half failings
of what it means to be human.
We are so much bigger than stars.
We are that guy you see,
making his alone-rounds
where everything collides together.
Oh my God he’s a bulletin bull,
and I’ve reduced to you its mystery.
If infinities were universes,
all-encompassing infinity could not encompass him.
I’m just saltin’ the ocean
and countin’ crows.
This is bigger than time,
in any duration of its meaning.
We get bigger than universes,
and we get bigger than infinity.
We can crow there.

I’m taking you back through time
to hello please,
let’s take a bite of infinity.
You there,
in your suit,
remove yourself from time,
get back in yourself
to vision’s eyes.
Let down the world some
and revel in its majesty.
Get your gun out and shoot
at the presumption of the stars,
at God’s mighty glory,
at something that’s just so strange
God comes out of it.
Amazing
is just a teller in a window.
We’ve broken in on time.

Copy this down
the story of the universe.
It came from such musings
in infinity’s time.
Now it’s your story keep.
Will you handle it?
The Robinson Crusoe on Mars,
I’m a pallbearer.
Can you hear infinity?
Let your ego down some,
your ego’s guts,
the ego’s lair.

Divine intervention [this line from my little boy Nithish, from his muse, and came to him at this point in the writing of this poem, while having pizza in town at Taka Pizza]
beyond deity.
We’re lookin’ through
I don’t know if I can see that high.
The relationship starts
when you’re alone in your room,
your environing personal consciousness,
and you can field notes.
You can get in there.
Start noticin’ your room.
I’m not sayin’ wall yourself off from society.
There are times to be alone
in the midst of it.
Cut yourself off from society,
can you even do that?
It’s not possible.
We are your own personal consciousness
in the field of the One.

I vaguely remember
the strength we’re all together.
Here, this is a lily pond,
and you’ve lily’d unto yourself.
Draw back in your room.
Investigate reality.
The time will come
you will open doors
of seeing.
Let it happen.
Don’t count it away.
It will all come upon you when it’s there
tangible real.
You will billow in your room,
become a flower-pen.

You won’t let you down.
You’re on your way to seeing.
Just let the thoughts roll back
and thin towards silence,
and meet the world with that
in your vision’s eye,
in your mind’s eye,
and draw back the curtains
so you can see eternity at work.
These are not beliefs.
Just see.

Eventually
you’ll arrive on sight
into veilless infinity.
You will feel this in your room
stark naked.
Now you’re in glory hole.
Keep movin’.
You come to a fullness of yourself
riding waves.
Now tell me the world has no meaning.
You saw it, didn’t yah,
the meaning alone.
Did it wink at yah,
give you a nod?
Wow, that’s personal.
That’s really personal.

Well I’m writing my poems
the boost we need to get there.
You’ll walk around.
You needed something.
It’s the American revolution.
I think they stole it,
all this hatred online.
Has blocked poetry has blocked mine.
Show it to you investment in reality,
like you’ve never seen it seen.
This actor
shoots directly to you
I got the movie
in parables of see.
Wear it on your face
your intense hatred.
I’ve left it so beautiful,
reality’s face.
Where are you at that you can’t see it?

Swallow your nose.
Lay down your religion.
For once here we are at score.
It’s in your eyes today.
Willy Wonka,
will you offer some chocolate?
That’s administrators if you like it.
That’s the burn name.
I’m behind you
reality meets the press,
one second,
your thinking.
Captured,
Oppenhagger,
constructing love.
Under what conditions?
Bomb material
poems I publish.

You can hear me on the bus.
You pretend to ignore me.
Costing so much chocolate.
Yours was letter-formed into poems.
Think about it this is a different kind of funeral.
We lost you the character of new bullet
today.

A demon’s eye [Nithish’s muse, heard while behind me on the bike, seeing a bird with red eyes]
will distort to you the truth.
Don’t let it.
It’s got rings on it,
and it hurts you:
you are some kingpin you are not.
Stay away from demons.
You can get off here.
Did you just hear it speak?

A bit of muse
will show you the way.
I wouldn’t get hung up on it.
I would bring you to the truth,
and that’s bigger than reality,
and it’s not a game we play
to convince each other.
There is a vision there inside you
that can interpret reality.
We get along without it
most of the time.
That does not get you
to pure reality
or anywhere near the truth.
You just hang there.

Can we get beyond name and form?
We embrace each other there.
This is really personal.
We embrace each other there
and get out of ourselves.
Practical hands see the no-self show.
See that no-self show,
it’s that guy you see
stark naked.
I mean the cameras are in the room,
but there’s no cameraman,
just his see.
Awesome we wait time
the right formula
to meet the world,
and do everything we need to do
to stay alive
and operate reality
to a bigger game than time,
and become Ourselves again.
They’ve got a furigation.
They just don’t let the water go.
It’s the pilot Supermind we are beyond time.
No issues,
the body’s there too.

And now let’s hump reality
to the right place on earth,
where you are no ego,
riding waves of reality
to the see of that guy.
You there,
have I brought you home?

I can’t picture this.
Just look in your drawer.
You wouldn’t go through every picture.
Where do I see this?
Don’t laugh it’s in your room
larger than cat.

You’re gonna piddle me apart of course.
I’ve got a strength of muse.
You can’t get rid of me that easy.
You’re gettin’ enlightenment on a piece of paper.
Have you ever saw it before?
Do you need to see it?

It’s your lifeline.
It’s the reason you were created,
to become That you see.
There’s no way around it.
You can’t avoid it.
Your death journey has this in store,
but it’s here we graduate.
It’s here we do it.
It’s here we get it done.
There is no other place on earth
to take what you can get out of life
as your homecoming.

You only see animal quiverings,
do not know we get bigger than that.
Your spiritual empty,
but you can go the distance,
man you can go.
That’s what we Earth for,
to bring the planet here:
beyond the animal
into God-quiverings.

I don’t have it.
And I’m gonna pick him up,
lay the bridge down for him
in some parable of tomorrow.
Fasten your seatbelts.
Need to practice it,
the acceleration of life.
Need to get going.
Tra la la! [line heard yelled in the voice of Captain Underpants from the movie of the same name]
Oh hallelujah.
Peel back silence in your mind.
Lift it there.
Extraordinary,
you have depth of vision.

The Fate You’re Said Desperate Need

“Beavis and Beauty” by the author
Looking my answer.
I’ve made such a rainbow.
No one sees its beauty/sense. [words spoken simultaneously]
It’s just another lunatic in a long game.
It’s just completely ignored,
except for a handful of brave souls
I would like to thank.
5,4,3,2,1,
I’m countin’ your love here.
You have risked your lives online
and put a like by my material.

Can I count that?
You must love humanity
more than your own lives,
or you feel so strongly
about what’s to do right,
you will put that before your very selves.
Where do I put you?
Go down my like columns and see.
KK, lunaiswriting, DirtySiFiBuddha, The Emotional Pixel, QuanTouch, B Gourley, Tony Self, Notes & Silence, Frank Solanki, Narayan Kaudinya, Elena, Lorene M., Bogdan Dragos,
and you others,
I don’t know what to say.
Thank you.

Let’s count the score.
I’m flabbergasted.
I don’t know what I mean.
I’ve counted meaning in the stars,
summed up the meaning of Earth,
and physically grasped Supermind,
and I’ve even housed meaning soul,
yet I cannot grasp in my own hands I write.
I cannot write my meaning in Earth.
I cannot even tarry there.
I don’t know how.
I don’t know where I am
where I meet you with the pen.

This is a mystery to me.
I am a steady stream of starlight
that doesn’t leave out one iota
of where my thoughts are,
my hands in the business of life,
my heart as it sees the world,
and I can’t even gauge you my time.
I write things down
I hear from on high,
and that is not the half of it.
I run this through the strands of my life.
I sit and wonder the lines I write.
I pick and choose and beg and plead
to give you the date of poetry.

It’s all scrambled up sometimes
in the gut-fields of life.
I cannot touch life.
In halls of infinity
I just get close to it
in storms of pen.
It won’t read me there.
It’s just about the lie
we value poets today.
Do you?

I can’t tell you how much
I spend on this.
It’s my life’s blood.
I work around everything to write.
I eat and I sleep
carrying muse.
I’m about the end of it,
how I begin each day.
I don’t think Shakespeare knew a better idiot
than I feel grasping you.
I’m sorry please.
I will arrive there one day,
where a poem’s just a piece of paper
I’ve handled meaning on,
and I don’t handle meaning in terms of readers.
I’m gettin’ there.
I can see it now.

What do we do with the orange crush?
You’re gonna sneak up on my meaning as I write.
You think it’s about lollipops.
I’m just tryin’ to grasp myself today
a writer of poems
on Earth’s starward prow,
in her meaning lists,
and where I find the Sun.
I gobble down the stars,
lick up the scraps.
Do you know muse?
I am so entertained.
It’s an amusement park,
and to think this is for all mankind?

Wow, we watch TV with it,
put it in our pipe and smoke it no.
Did that just happen to me?
I’ve heard a line of muse,
saw a vision,
and the sign said poetry.
And we grasp Earth in our specialness
and want to tell the world.
It’s not ready for it yet,
and you can’t get there yet,
show your muse.
Don’t throw it away.
It’s got vision’s long hold on it.
It will mature brightly.
You’re not showin’ it to people.
You’re just listening muse.
It’s got a lot to show for it.

You’re gettin’ bigger kid,
lookin’ at the world some
a God vision growing.
You think you’re a pilot of the world?
Oh please we’ve all been there,
considering ourselves.
We can grow so much bigger in our thoughts.
We can get bigger than ourselves.
We can surely get there.
Do you know how far this is?
I don’t think you can touch it with ego.
It’s on the other side of the universe.
A change of consciousness gets you there,
and that’s where we measure our days,
not in muse.

A change of consciousness ahead,
that’s where we measure muse.
Is it happening to us?
Is it real?
Is it there yet?
Do you see the lightning?
Oh wow better poetry
can I Lord please write?
Where I am today:
I don’t think anybody hears me.
You silly fool,
write
measured pace.

Run it through the ringer of my life
and be bold,
casual and free.
Newman,
we’ve got that ticket.
Caught a moment off Gods
to the camera
you’re the human being.
Focus any of my material?
Put it on that lawn,
Lucille Balls.
We’re negotiating shelter.
What principles create him greater need?
He’s blarin’ at yah
sorry about the needful.

There’s time to look at it.
I’m sorry I say so much
that brings out your life.
Are you crazy?
You give the essential details;
there is no need to give them.
He needs to got
put in the hold.
You’re listenin’ to him.
Open it up
Americans,
because Americans with a policy
—okay let’s go under—
with a policy to grow anything.
The only way I talk to you is throwin’ you out. [line heard sung, voice of Dolly Parton]
You wanna sit your own ass
on the opposite side
of going off the bridge.
Yep, that outta do it,
environmental change.

Call your father
Christmas.
I can’t call anybody.
I’m not allowed to write.
It’s because you never get read.
They’re gonna come,
the people who read newspapers.
I just want to look at the must angle.
We need these right now,
these poems called freedom,
how you pronounce it,
how it’s acting.

And I have a lovely single for you today,
another poem,
good story,
man's help.
And for poem’s sake,
the runner,
Beavis and Beauty—
I’m underpinnings;
I’m the laugh of the party;
I’m in there a broad measure of healing.
Let’s leave it up to another empty poem
to give us some ground rules.

The Availability of Stars

photo by the author
Now pedophilia,
that’s the most indistinct thing there.
You are taken
this close.
And I just hang there.
I have nothing to show for it.
You’re in a square seat
behind holes of reality.
You’ve got the best seat on earth,
larger than mankind.
You don’t bow to no one.
You’re really there.
You’re the right person
to handle the Word.
You are Our go man.
You are not some blind wall.
We listen to you.
It’s a conscious place in there.
You feel the world.
You feel in there.

The dawn of a new age
between icebergs.
We can’t let the stories out.
Regal and important,
they show us our under wares.
We can’t see them
because the gatekeeper says no.
They move us,
give us another time,
tranquille.
We can’t find the time to read them.

A Green Beret,
I parachuted into Germany with an atom bomb.
No, Luna puppy,
I’ve jumped out of Mars.
I’d love to tell yah the story.
One single incident
would be almost big enough,
but I’ve landed Silent Mind.
On the approach
to return to this land.
It makes gold for good seeing.

Memorable wares,
I’ve put poems on mountaintops,
in the station of Mount Sinai
and on the 14 Stations of the Cross
in Old Jerusalem.
I put “The Last Man on Earth”
in the sarcophagus of the Great Pyramid in Egypt.
A few people saw me do it.
It wasn’t a landslide.

I travelled the world a vagabond pilgrim
in the early days of the net
and did not record it there,
for years.
Country to country saw me soup,
and I gathered myself there.
In one tall swoop,
long before I left Houston,
a Classical Greek scholar I was,
I became the person I am presiding over all these lives.
I became my Godself on high.
I mean I went up there
long enough to know Who I am.
That started my life.
I was born in that moment
as one who stretches the Earth.

What a thing to say
if you’re just some yahoo,
even with all the trailers
this poem has shown you.
Can you hear them?
I’m not dyin’ in my lunch.
I’m a livin’ breathin’ testament
of I have lived sir,
man I have lived ma’am.
Can you see that way?
Do you even care?
X-men have got you by the heart,
and the Avengers have blinded you,
story after story of savin’ the world,
and the human can’t even get there.
We bleed our stories
so they make Earth pretend,
so they grasp the wrong value,
so they tattletale in our arms.

Can we find our soul?
Would you believe it’s not a person?
And it’s not our stars.
It’s an ocean down a deep well
that you can find if you get there
falling sleep.
I took my conscious that far,
falling,
over several days of exploration,
and I found my soul.
Are you on the move?
And you think you’re only on the outside
travelin’?

Who’s cleaning this mess up?
My goodness guy.
And we’ve met the soul watch.
Our personhood has launched it
to develop life.
That’s why it’s here.
When you find it you activate that,
and it cleans up messes,
and it’s inevitable you rise
a soul see.
I’ve grounded that,
and I turn the tables on you.
I don’t think you’ve found that ocean yet.

And I have found the stars
where I sit,
and I have found the Earth where I sit.
The soul has brought me here.
It’s larger than mountains,
more infinity than space,
and that’s our standin’ ground.
It’s all over the place.
It’s in this room right now
greater see.

I’m here to show you the real.
I entered this world a pedophile,
and all you’ve heard
has been my means to change.
I could not just be a normal citizen,
not in my brood,
not where my society reach romantic heart,
not in my roving center
where I attracted to the world.
You don’t understand polyp,
and you think freewill is everywhere.
I gunned this life.
I really put it on,
the role a lifetime keeper.
I am here before you today
on poet watch.
I give you the stars.
I give you the formula for change.

Will you unload that
to where the voice can see it,
the net speaker?
I’m comin’ to yah today
where we meet the Earth.
I’m not sutterin’.
I am right there.

What just happened?
I gathered the rainbow
and showed it to yah,
and showed yah who you are.
You are that God on high,
the One I described above.
It is the Maker.
It is the Shaker.
It is Who we all are
in the dynamics of deity,
and here we all are
lost in the world we have created,
foundering in the universe we began,
and we need to get there,
to our creator self,
where it meets us here.

That’s the gist of the story,
of every story on earth.
I populate it now
with facts,
with a storyline.
Understanding?
Give it all you got.

A Verb of Words

photo by Donny
Who stays close to skyscrapers?
A digital bureaucracy
won’t look at my poetry.
I don’t know what it means.
Man’s critical college parallel universe was
thrown into poetry.
I don’t think no one reads him,
even though it was a parallel universe.
Did I just say that?
You like mules
that have no meaning behind them
when they’re pullin’ a plough.
You don’t like to figure out stuff.
I don’t think you like meaning.
It’s read it’s bread.
Stop and take a look no way.

How do we bring down poetry into the universe?
My God the spheres here.
I can make up a poem to please yah.
See Dick run after Jane?
Okay get out of the knob Joe.
Meaning is paradise.
It’s not your guttural wear.
The random nonsense of meaning words,
did I just say paradise?

I’m at a loss for words.
Nobody understands me.
Critical Hank,
is that self-meaning or self-pity?
What do you see in an enemy?
A reader.
I’m all out of poems,
and they just comin’.
I’m really not doin’ this.
Poetry has grabbed my testicles and is squeezing them.
In silence no one can hear you scream.

That’s what my mind dirts,
when poetry comes in my window.
I’m liftin’ silence to read it.
It gets you all trashed
in dirt modules,
the mind’s interference,
and unfortunately the more trashed the more you like it.
I hear the mind there
all readable by rationality.
The mind likes symmetry.

I put a poem in pieces
where silence holds my poem.
I’m tryin’ to say this pure verse,
really, really from the silence,
unadulterated
by anything mind can give.
Do you see me there?
I’m listenin’ hard.
Like I say I come in pieces.

How do you value a poem?
It’s meaningful to you.
I don’t think you’re concerned with the silence.
The root of poetry has no meaning
to someone who looks at stuff all the time.
Pure abstractness’s not what I’m talkin’ about.
If you let it happen,
meaning would come in time
personal to you.
It would hit you on the nose
a vehicle trip.
I can't get at this abstraction.
Well can you let poetry breathe,
take off your thinking cap a moment?

You’re gonna be taken for a ride kid
in the hit you of your stuff,
in the node of your surround things.
Poetry will take you somewhere
out of yourself
in the larger spheres.
It has meaning
all wrapped up in purpose,
and we clear here.
Poetry is a vehicle of meaning
that will look at you in your underwear.
Are you desnudo?
Wow, amazing,
can you come read your poetry?

Can we understand your poetry together with silence?
I think the reader’s talking to me again.
Okay let’s say some hard words.
I’m a stallion in Paris.
When I look through my radar I see you.
I’ve opened my first book.
It’s just terrible.
It’s just terrible.
We can reader handle a book,
shall we?

You pronounce it better,
that publication.
They say I’m crazy.
And a book shall lead them,
trusting you.
You’re open.
You can definitely see the Sun.
Get out of the way,
and it will rain down upon us
how to do poetry,
be happy with what you make in a better way.

Tall recognition
of you’ve got some answers,
the answer,
despite failure.
I put failure in.
You got the Sun in your eyes.
You can check and see if it’s there.
Read this one.
You’re having a beautiful Yahtzee surprise.
Sit Sharma you have done.

A poet has his word out.
Shoulder gets a new test.
Oh, this is getting down to me,
the purport of poetry:
be meaning and don’t expect anything in return.
I think we just said the universe.

How do we do that,
get we and put it in a higher position?
Yeah, okay, struggle to survive.
Why am I gaslighting this?
I broke through the crowd and I silenced the sound.
They wondered if I was to blame
for Mary. [This two above lines heard sung by Bob Ayala, “The Song of Joseph”]
Into the divine,
can I take you?
There’s no struggling with,
there’s no struggling with another person.

Goddamn dude,
it was nothing but
I wonder why the U. S. has so many problems controllin’ that track right there. [line spoken at the end of a dream, a question I asked, a Green Beret in the dream, seeing a heavily armed train belonging to the Taliban insurgents, the track being representative of the field of Afghanistan while the U. S. was still there]
Hey come here—
wastin’ time. [heard sung by Dobie Gray, “Drift Away”]
Just don’t bombard me okay?
Go and see that
as a blockbuster. [vision of having gone to the ocean floor to see the wreck of the Titanic]
Harry Potter,
you’re tryin’ to swim
unlimited.
We’ll be right back.
That must be the phone.

Now bring meaning down to time.
I’m every bit in your skyscraper.
Bring me down-to-earth, will yah?
Get me outta here,
a lonely meaning in time.
I’m all about your reveille post.
Open up to the meanings you have missed.
I’m only there.

I should explain that this poem was posted for just a few moments on Oct. 26, 2022 and then reverted to draft so to submit to Poetry Magazine, and it took eight months for them to reply. Here is their email in regards to this poem, dated May 18, 2023:

Dear Donny Duke,

Thank you for sending your work to POETRY magazine—and thank you, too, for your patience as you waited for our response.

We won’t be publishing anything from your submission, but we wish you the best of luck in publishing it elsewhere and appreciate you sending it our way.

Thanks so much for your support of the magazine. We hope you are as safe and well as can be.

Gratefully,

The Editors

Listen to My Dog

Hannah, photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

A guy that’s on the net.
It’s on the net.
I not been poet before.
Spirits in my head and they won’t go. [line heard sung by the Strumbellas, “Spirits”]
We’re shoppin’ for cars.
Can’t find a one in your neighborhood.
Bubble me up please.
This is Ranger.

I’m calculating science.
You don’t understand the net.
I’ll make a video
to make everyone laugh
so I can feel special inside.
I’ll waste my time here.
I don’t know what to say.
Can you do it,
make meaning out of worth?

A horrible commotion
the whole damn net.
Where do we put it?
I’m sure some voices rise.
Some everywhere.
Let’s not fudge with it.
Let’s put meaning on there.
Can you mean somethin,
make us all grow,
like we mean something?

Where is it
the meaning of this paper?
I think you’ve thrown me away.
The net’s speaking me.
Can you hear that?
Can you show your inmost self on TV?
Just one rupee sir,
and we’ll have taxes of course.
See that net?
You won’t be a voice talking.
We won’t take you there.

Do I wanna go down there,
to a person’s imaginary poet world?
Nah,
I read a few lines.
I think we’re good.
What’s he gonna say,
meaning?
Throw that poet away.
I’ve got an appetite for stuff.

Many rules gonna get broken
for the net value.
You are not prepared for its worth.
You just think it’s ticklin’ time.
It’s like a Ouija Board.
Who moved that dial?
Quagmire.

I think you read me loud and clear.
Now let’s test this boat.
Too heavy for us.
I know;
you can’t do it,
wash your hands with Jewish genitals
and save the world.
See how smart you are.
You can’t get your head down your pants.

You need to go really, really, slow.
That book will scare you,
Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry.
Read that book.
It’s an understand the world book,
not just human genitals.
In this book they’re just redeemed.
Can you see Jerusalem?

Oh my God he’s on paper,
the Internet,
the whole world.
Green light,
oh we can go back
and change something
if it didn’t work.
What am I supposed to do,
with QAnon
and that whole Trump’s the savior mess?
Let’s get them meet the press
and it’s we lose our democracy
if they’re voted in.
You okay?

It’s in Nature to stick up like that.
This is a long poem,
exact words.
Give it with me,
the meaning of life.
Back them I didn’t realize, well,
your anxiety’s gonna come up.
I’m sorry,
give yourself a tight squeeze.
We’re handlin’ the book.

This poem needs a picture.
Who Hannah?
She’s a lovely dog.
Leading a dog
to where we belong in time.
Must be some book,
leading a dog through time.
You got my wolf?
I think it’s your wolf actually.
Anyway read the book.
Is that my measurement?
Yes sweetheart.
This person is solvin’ the world.
You got that Houston?

Which asks you to stretch.
It's not fun for The Family Guy either.
Small snake bite—
you won’t get away with it,
no matter how you read it,
without it doin’ you some number.
Enjoy it;
this is the end of the world
that doesn’t know its origin.

You’re headed for a disaster,
oh world we live in,
if you can’t bring this book to light,
or its ideas on some other page.
Look I’m talkin’ to yah straight.
No other book has the power
to bring you to change.
You mean it
where this book is bound to you,
and that’s a doctor,
the one you need right now.

You think I’m exaggerating.
It’s all in the book,
and I’ve just mentioned time.
Can you see that far?
I don’t think you’re even lookin’.
History has a book party.
I think you’ll find this book
in its Rolodex.

You’re not listenin’.
You’ve watched too many commercials.
I reader
am in the whole thing.
Read it
and don’t look back.

You want extra-terrestrial contact
I should ask.
I’m not talking about the one in spaceships.
This is bigger than words.
Okay talk to the world
the very nature of its see.
I’m showin’ you that
extra-terrestrial.
No other formula has it
quite to this degree.

You understand me?
The nature of the universe will talk to yah
in large poetry ships,
and the prose will just knock you sideways.
All in a day’s work
in that book.
You take it from here.

Anyway, let’s call most everybody:
what do you want to do when you grow up?
You want to be mountain and feel pregnant with the world?
Excellent,
I got it.
I got your book,
and we’re right here
in the lighthouse
Pondicherry U.S.A.
to the spirit of India,
where star wars meets the Earth
in Israel.
You got that car?
I’m drivin’ it down the street.
Hop in.
We’re happenin’.
We're leadin' a book through time.
Pondicherry lighthouse, photo by Donny