Rumi advised me to keep my spirit up in the branches of a tree and not peek out too far, so I keep mine in the very tall willows along the irrigation ditch out back, a safe place to remain unspoiled by the filthy culture of greed and murder of the spirit. People forget their spirits easily suffocate so they must keep them far up in tree
No longer will I swallow hard boiled instructions. No longer smile at people I’d like to bite. Today I am free. Today I am Mick Jagger’s lips. Today I am Kerouac’s touchdown in Lowell ’39. Today I’m Jack Kennedy—ich bin ein unemployed!
There will be time later for assassins. Today I am Lenin arriving at Finland Station Napoleon back from Egypt. Today I am Neville Chamberlain’s peace Timothy Leary’s PhD Joplin’s vocal chords I am used up—but new and yesterday was my last day of work.
Beside the waterfall, by the lichen face of rock, you pause in pine shade to remember blue for drawing back, and green for trust, replenishing yourself among familiar leaves with scattered sunlight. And beyond those trees in time not ours, you see our children search