a poem from June 22, 2000

The City. Where people gather their obsessions. A party that celebrates every day. When I walk between buildings with stalactite girders grown by the hands of men, I move with the city.

When I stop, the whole world slips by, whirling around me. Wild men live here, brightly colored. We meet at the intersections of thoughts and ideas. We prey on each other, living in each other's eyes.

I dream of violent art, flames engulfing emotion, performance of the extreme. I observe the daily abuses of humankind perpetrated on itself. How do we protect our relations with each other? Where is the compassion?

I once had a dream that I could reinvent myself and dream reality unsupported by physicality. I find I've made mistakes, mistaking an impossibility for a reality. I am exhausted with my life. Is that good or bad?

I visualize Buddha nature.