THE LAST TACTIC
The last tactic of a spiritual user
is to become a martyr
for something he doesn’t believe in
just as every true loser has a hero within
that just can’t get out.
I appeal to the muses of absurdity
that live like eleven star-nosed moles
in the seven cosmic wormholes
in the golden apples of the Hesperides
to inspire me with enough crazy wisdom
never to live my life
as if it had to be worthy of me
and not the other way around.
Never to try and make space bend to me
as if I were the direction of gratitude.
All true stars
radiate their shining away from themselves
so others can see who they are.
You can rise with the sun in the morning
of another talented day
or you can go down with the moon
like the dark genius of a deeper insight
that’s more than the sad immensity
of life on earth can say.
Never let me forget
for one moment
whether life groans
like the stone of the firmament
grinding starlight into wheat
with the plodding heart of an ox
or the path is gilded like running water
life’s most sublime experience
is a blissful kind of mindless play
that’s as clear as the heart of a child
older than innocence
and more profound
than sorrow was to joy
long before the Buddha was a boy.
Never let me regret
compassion is a mirror
that grows old with me
so I can recognize
what doesn’t change
when I see it.
Suffering says it’s not enough
to find a cure.
You must be it to heal it.
You must grow wonderful and strange.
You must feel it like home in your bones.
As if it were your name
on the overturned lifeboat
the survivors take shelter under
when the great turmoil of being
washes them ashore on an island universe
that hasn’t been jinxed
by turning the wheel of destruction
the opposite way
to make a dazzling appearance.
Let me sing like a bird on a prayer-wheel
with every breath I free from my rib-cage
and never let me suffer the futility
of a great gift
I can’t give back to life
because I cling to myself like a stargiver
that hides its treasure
like a blackhole
in the center of its own lucidity.
If it’s ice it’s ice.
If it’s form it’s form.
But never let me wander too far away
from my own fluidity
and whatever shape I take
in lives to come
further down the mindstream
where we all come from
dreaming or awake
keep it supple so it doesn’t break.