(cross-posted from Docudharma)
I have to write some stuff here so I can post the poem beneath the fold with little fuss.
New Moon and Lunar New Year and all that.
When the going gets tough, the poets get mad ... oh ... well, "mad" in the sense of Rimbaud-ish dementedness of the senses or just mad as in madcap or such.
So anyway, the poem is beneath the fold.
The Wine is Ready
how many
of those
tripping boys and girls
were mad bodhisattvas
not needing to trip at all
or tripping heavy
didn't matter
their presence
a shower of benediction
planting seeds of
brand new ways
to be!
They were everywhere
but never said much
about that.
Except maybe
"wow, man."
Too young to have
known them then,
I find myself
hilariously blessed
now in the new
Millennium.
Goofy moon
Juney loon
in January
Happy Lunar New Year to All.