Mr. Newcastle

རྫོང་གསར་གྱི་བརྡའ།

Dear Newcastle Maharatna
Lets take a drink of freedom like two
Old-fashioned vagabonds.
You have so many guises
Why not try being a Latino laborer
Or a farm hand in upstate New York
Or let me help us find
A  nice Splitting-Off practice hillside
We can offer Deviprasad then
Fall into shamanism, animalism and infernal screaming
All as a matter of formality, of course
You have the Yeshe Lama
So do I -- but would we ever let ourselves practice?
You with mountains of privilege
I with bundles of distraction and Facebook friends
My stuff will be the kindling
Yours the furnace feedstock
We could make a bonfire Agnihotra
Of worldly and supramundane dharmas
Just for a spell
I'll be your point man
Smuggling your movie-star countenance
In the back rows of Trailways bus
From one sleepy mountain crossroads to the next
Leaving town after town surreptitiously
Each time you're spotted in street clothes
I'll plot us another course of random motion
Across a shimmering summer samsara
Of arid American dreams.

It's OK to be human
All the Buddhas done it
All the bad guys too
Everyone's bathtub gets a ring
Shirts have ring around the collar
Toilets look worse
Even after flushing
Teeth chip, fade and rot
Noses grow bulbous
Eyes droop
Ladies grow whiskers
Men grow bald
And worse things happen
Under layers of skin and fine clothes
But mind grows peaceful
Nothing is for granted
Life is even more fleeting
And that much more precious
It's not a party after a point
It's just constant cleanup
Routines structure routines
Noses smell themselves
Skin falls from skin
Knees degenerate
The carnival of youth
Seems ever more fatuous
The future corpses of America
Are oh so splendid in their antics
The buddhing young intellects
Are poised for liberation
Whorled Peas be upon them --
I imagine a green wheel of bliss --
Let them have fresh greenbacks
Right off the burning presses
And hot stock tips
And sexy like-minded friends
There is no need to transform this
Everything is a simple symbol
Of what cannot be avoided.

Call a Plumber

Someone call a plumber
Shit won't drain from my life
Give me that number
Get him off my ex-wife

No time to hesitate
Jettison all unwanted baggage
Where's the Drano?
Better use a bacteriophage

I've got amoebas
Cause I forgot to wash my hands
Doubled over with cramps
This aggression will not stand

I'm hoppin to get boppin
Two pantlegs at a time
Then urge to express something
Or is it just the runs

Pregnant with possibilities
Methane comes up bubblin'
I've done gone and fracked
My G.I. tract
For uncertain outcome

Hell fire and brimstone
Are my karma now
Avalanche and mudslides
The natural history of my insides

Please staple my gut shut
I'll be grinning like Al Roker
I've suffered though this token
Rite of passage long enough

Should have stayed
With old Plan A
Why'd I have to upgrade, please,
My intestinal biodiversity?

Dear Gods of Nepal
You are everywhere
Purging me of dreams
In cascading fetid streams

My hat's off to you
You've made me see
Inexorably
That I'm simply full of doo-doo.

Arrived.

Travel to Nepal successful. Doha Air is a dream. And from the air  Doha is the most beautiful city I ever saw. The earthworks in the harbor are most impressive. The airport is clean and well-operated. In a way it's the perfect counterpoint to both NYC and Nepal. NY Kennedy is the port of the Tower of Babel. Doha is the poster child for Sharia. If a city can be this beautiful, how bad can Shariah rule be...Anyway it's their people's karma. From the air, the city's architecture is the most stunning I've ever seen. And it's easy to see, at sunset at least, in relief against the sunset, on a flat epanse of desert sand next to the still Ariabian sea. If it sounds poetic, that's because it is. No wonder colonialists loved Arabia so much. There is a some degree of order and elegance in absolute patriarchy, especially when it combines with extreme wealth as it does here.

Kathmandu, I've yet to see it from the air by day. Arrived at 1:00 am last eve. The city is vast and sprawling, but surprisingly dark at night. The streets are improved over the last time I visited, 25 years ago. Boudha, the neighborhood where I'm staying, used to have some open spaces. Now it's just a maze of streets and alleyways, jam-packed with private homes, hotels, and small businesses. But regardless, it feels like home, at least to a Buddhist or Hindu. People here are free to practice and preach their religion, as long as it's "Hindu" (which includes Buddhists, as far as Hindus are concerned). Christians and Muslims are not so lucky, even if they are somewhat tolerated. Pogroms and assassinations are not unheard of, and proselytizing is technically illegal, even if the government can't control it as well as, say, the government of Qatar.