Why, God, is Love Jack?

Golden Bhikkhu,
whose mother was Sutra
and whose children are Sutra
and whose brother is Jew Sutra Communism
and whose Dharma is Denver Adonis Sutra

reading Japhy Sutra in the mountains,
reading Dean Sutra in the backseat
reading Pain Sutra in Mexico
reading Daddy Sickness Sutra downtown

Jack is love
love’s eyes are open
like the mind and voice of Sal
(who rode with Dean)

Jack is love
because Jack is Dulouz
and Dulouz was always love

Jack is love
because we all know it’s true

Jack is love.

 

Lightening Bug

lightening bug flashes 3 inches above my head
I reach up carelessly to knock it out of the sky
little lantern plummets softly, landing silently by my feet
miniature flame among the grassblades fading slowly,
dying with its tiny master

and I, great murderous brute,
watch the sad little light grow dimmer and dimmer
perfect flickering metaphor of the world
teaching me what monstrosities live inside my soul

 

Circle of Life

more candy means happier children
 happier children means tastier children
  tastier children means happier dragons
   happier dragons means less maiden-sacrifice
    less maiden-sacrifice means more women
     more women means more wives
      more wives means more mothers
       more mothers means more children
        more children means more grown-ups
         more grown-ups means more workers
          more workers means more sugar plantations
           more sugar plantations means more sugar cane
            more sugar cane means more sugar
             more sugar means more candy
              more candy means happier children

 

Fountain of Youth

I. The Longest Journey

As the hills seemed to advance upon us,
    blinking wearily in the pre-dawn light
    and stretching their massive shoulders in the direction of the sea,

And as Angelo marched before me, beautiful boy in the morning mist,
    I glanced into his eyes, and was ashamed,
    for he, young as he was, had never known the joy of man nor the horror of man,
    and here he strode quickly, seeking the former but approaching the latter.
He had many miles yet to cover, but I had many more than he.
Already, I knew this, and already, I was ashamed.

The older man, my uncle, followed me lazily, without concern.
He feared nothing, for he had conquered everything.
I glanced behind, and saw his thin old frame,
    and again, I was ashamed.
He had conquered everything, but he had not conquered me.
He knew nothing of the horror that would soon befall him.
For this, I was ashamed.

We pressed on together, and as we passed over each hill
    the world would pile up slowly
    and then release itself into the beautiful depths of a miniature valley.
For weeks we walked, over hill after hill, each one growing
    a little bit steeper and a little bit colder.
But our time together was pleasant, and though the miles were slow,
    we continued easily enough
    until we saw the mountains.

Great, hulking, grey behemoths loomed into our sight.
Young Angelo burst with excitement, proclaiming our journey halfway finished.
My uncle shared with me a knowing smile,
    but I could not return it.
These icy, faceless peaks inspired in me an unnamed fear,
    and once more, I was ashamed.

However, the waters beyond these giants would bestow on us that which we sought.
We marched carefully into the mountains’ embrace,
    until thick trees, fog, and
    darkness engulfed our world.
In the mountains, our journey took on the glum sullenness of our surroundings,
    and at last the world was true to us,
    and still, I was ashamed.

The cold of the mountain passes blasted us day and night,
    but we marched on,
    and we marched on.

The endlessness of our path pressing in on us,
    the little group was soon mired in despair.
Angelo could not understand the hardship and distance
    that separated us from the golden shores we sought.
The old man began to see that though he had conquered all,
    he had not conquered his own body, or my body, or Angelo’s.

And I believe he was afraid,
    and I believe I was ashamed.

Despite these newfound worries, we continued on our eternal trek.
    We walked on, we walked on, and we walked on.
Still, there was no end in sight.
Forever, I was ashamed.

And suddenly, our journey ended;
    We crested one final peak, and there the ocean lay.
Angelo ran forward, enchanted, and even the old man quickened his step.

But I hung back, and gazed upon the sea.
For now, I was not ashamed.
For now, I was merely afraid.

II. The Fountain of Youth

I sat upon the beach for hours, peeking guiltily at my fellows.
The water bubbled slowly, and glowed golden to itself.
I gazed at it, petrified, then looked toward the old man and Angelo.
Still, I was afraid.
But again, I was ashamed.
Simultaneously, my companions arose.
They glanced at each other, then at me.
And then they walked to the edge of the pulsating surf.
Together, they hesitated, and then together, they waded in.

I watched silently; I knew what would happen.
I said nothing, and was ashamed.

Instantly, young Angelo disappeared beneath the waves, pale-faced,
    and drowned.
In the dark mud of the seafloor, his youth could be preserved forever;
    for this service, he traded his life.
Seeing this, my uncle turned back to me, betrayed.
He tried to call to me, but his voice fell flat as he choked
    on the water filling his own lungs.
I watched the terror in his eyes as he began to struggle,
    and as he sank, he slowly began to dissolve, the flesh melting from his bones.
Soon, a skeleton, milky white and young as any, drifted in the waves.
For this, I was ashamed.

III. A Journey Home

I walked slowly to the edge of the water, dipped in my hand,
    and took a drink.

The waters receded in response, revealing a hundred young faces
    and a thousand empty skulls.
Among them, I spotted young Angelo; he seemed to wave to me.

All of these faces, all of these blank bones,
    invited me quietly to join them in their silent oblivion.
I was ashamed to turn down their offer,
    but decided that I could never be with them.

I could not enter the water myself,
    because I was much too afraid;
    afraid to discover whether my face would be preserved in youth
    or if my bones would float naked in the waves for all eternity.

I was so afraid,
    and for this, I am ashamed.

And, when I have died, you should not cremate me,
    but neither should you worry yourself,
    for I shall dig my own hole in the ground.