Drinking
from the
Cancer CupdPress 2002 Sebastopol
Cover art by Claude Smith
DARK MUSIC
Everything is here forever.
Where the poem begins
the soul speaks.
Narcisuss
cisuss
cisuss
leaves Echo's lips unkissed.
Orpheus, torn and tossed
enters the flame
pulled this way and that.
What truth now links
temple, tree and dance?
LOVE POEM
The worms bury us.
We are daily warned.
Duncan remarks,
"One can write
for or against
the sun."
Everyone is busy, busy
getting and spending,
while the worms get
The job done,
undisturbed
by shadows.
There is the cup,
and there is the bomb.
I drink from the cancer cup.
ENERGY FOLLOWS CONSCIOUSNESS
follow closely—
let me into your subconscious
gently but sure
look at me
wires loose
line end
stanza 4. I stare at the moon.
I set out to find God.
It's a world in which people meet
obstacles, but I'm not going
to let a bad tooth stop me.
stanza 5. Steve believes there's a secret
turning in us that makes
everything turn. He believes
in a theology that promises peace—
I hope
to find this peace.
SELF-PORTRAIT
I address you.
What you see is what you get,
in this case, my features
reflected in a mirror or a cup,
my eyes looking back at you.
A mystery here?
I am not projecting
persona or emotion.
What I give you
is the strangeness of my face.
I address you.
What you see is what you get,
in this case, my features
reflected in a mirror or a cup,
my eyes looking back at you.
A mystery here?
I am not projecting
persona or emotion.
What I give you
is the strangeness of my face.
TERROR WITHIN, TERROR WITHOUT
Carefully now will there be a grail or a bomb which tears the heart out of things?
—BOOK OF MERLIN, Jack Spicer
I. From 'Infinite Justice' to 'Enduring Freedom'
Cave dwellers plummet beyond what security can cinch
turn sleepy innocence to rabid rancor
Images of violent thrust propel my grief past midnight
froth the tough hours into a flotsam of words
In the time it takes to drink a latté
a rank mist curls over the earth
And so begins an epoch of enforced disillusionment
where invisible fingers control the air
II. The Litany Continues
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for Airforce Master Sergeant Evander Andrews
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for each Afghan killed in this campaign
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for each soul crushed in the World Trade Center
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for those dying from sanctions and bombs in Iraq
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for all the Israelis who have been blown to bits
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for each Palestinian shot in the streets
I release 10,000 doves and burn my best incense
for Tony Blair & George Bush & Osama bin Laden
III. Praise and Blame, Loss and Gain
To be peace— empty, clear, compassionate in this
mad mix of good and evil and not escape through sleep
through normalcy, through wrapping myself in the flag
A prayer tree flutters in our town square
the prayer for war to disappear in this warm breeze
the leaves are prayers blowing in the deadly winds
IV. Fame and Shame, Pleasure and Pain
Everyone I see holds onto their face
What is behind these masks? these headlines?
America attacked
A weekend without games
US girds for war to 'Rid world of evil'
US expands detention powers
Spirits soar as Giants return to Pac Bell Park
'Time is running out' for the Taliban
71 Barry Bonds 72 Smashing!
Uzbekistan opens bases for US troops
US attacks Afghanistan
V. Cowboy Rhetoric
"Slowly but surely we're smoking al-Qaida
out of their caves so we can bring them to justice,"
says the Commander-in-chief
Caves where Jelaluddin Rumi was born
Rumi, who proclaimed, "No boundaries, no flags!"
Caves where Vajrasattva transmitted Dzog Chen
Afghanistan is not a place
but a space, a vacuum created by conflict
VI. A New Geography Lesson
An AK 47 by a bookcase in bin Laden's study
What is right, what is wrong with this picture?
George Bush smirks at the camera during a briefing
What is right, what is wrong with this attitude?
John Ashcroft says he needs more sweeping powers
What is right, what is wrong with his claim?
An Afghan man holds up a fistful of prayer beads
What is right, what is wrong with his demand?
From Cyrus II to Genghis Khan to Tamerlane to
The New World Order, the Great Game continues
VII. Manic Heanism
This is a barbarous age
Mani is skinned alive
VIII. All the Universe Is Laughing at Us
Opposition evolves so life can exist, opposition desires union
Overheard, "They don't believe in God; they believe in Allah."
Maybe we can reassemble Jerusalem in the Nevada desert
Pray for Buddha to pop a cap up Mars's ass
SAM SORRY
I'm looking for an exit
from this buddhadrama
an exit out
of the head
an exit in
to the heart
grasshoppers jump for joy when the grass is liberated
GET DOWN, RINPOCHE
Night is a time for song and dance.
Tonight, the Gochen Tulku feels expansive
and dances the Warrior Dance of King Gesar,
While Ani Tsering translates the tulku's poem—
Black bird, big bird,
Vulture eating dead people
in the charnel ground.
Then, we all sing Blackbird Singing.
AUTO BIOGRAPHY
A note on my windshield—
"Your right rear tire is flat."
VIEW
I stand at the Golden Gate and meditate.
The water is anything
but pacific, and the Wild
West is east of me.
ENERGY
At the end of summer
two boys and a dog
splash in the river.
Light through the leaves—
no death in them.
HOMAGE TO No. 45 RUE BLOMET
Despair is great, and only humour noir helps to overcome it.
—André Breton
I. Give & Take of Beauty: I'm Given the Words
I am drinking from the cancer cup with my lips
and the lips of those who have suffered before me
all of us drinking from the BIG cancer cup
a larger suffering, these older voices, these other souls
speaking through my heart, speaking directly to yours of energies that turn us again to earth and fertility There's deeper tissue here than I've yet laid bare
I would feel a sharp object in my abdomen
cutting gently and with an aim at laying open
not reasoning out the unreasonable reality of death
Enter my cells through the immense, gaping door
of my perspective, welcome to the innards of my sex
Here is a doorknob, here is a broom
Take the broom and sweep aside the artifices
Come inward, a geography trip
to my heart, my dick and balls
and my prostate
II. Vanity of the Prostate
I am Prostate
I am like a cat presenting you with a gift
a mouse or a fluttering baby magpie
I'm a gland, a secretor of fluid
the size of a walnut, just below the bladder
I propel the semen through the urethra
a lubricator of soul, I'm the oil pump of the sex act
I am the second major cause of death in men
I am when I metastasize
I enter your seminal vesicles, your bladder, your sphincter
your lymph nodes, your spinal column, your bones
cells run amuck
III. Wishing It Were Different
Allopathic treatments are radical prostatectomy
& brachytherapy, tiny radioactive seeds implanated
Possible side effects are urethral stricture, bleeding,
pulmonary embolism, incontinence, erectile dysfunction
e.d., a side effect of prostate surgery & brachytherapy
but, then, it's hard to get a hard-on when you're dead
IV. Emptiness Beyond Within
hit below the belt, a gut reaction
do this, do that, do nothing
implant me with seeds
I'll radiate— dangerous to set a baby near me
piss through a screen, collect my isotopic seeds
return them to the manufacturer
six months of radiation, radiating out, radiating in
radiating in ten directions
breathe in the bad, breathe out the good
breathing still
