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John Eivaz

55 Ginsberg

carbon ash smudge
     on side of car
          first thing i see

     know the day
will be hot          again
          there's chips

of wood where
     the tree was
          where did that

     smudge come from
where the tree
          where the eyes

last year the chips waited
     sun biding time
     eye thought clearer

sunflower this     sunflower that
          sutra * flower * of industry
     of the world     ash

     on cheap metal hot
day all longing entwined in ideal
          sunflower unseen

read and remembered
     how it is     clean
bright inside     unchanging

They are the Eggmen, I am the Buddha

it is true
that every moment
is here in this one
in my life

that every moment to come
buttresses this one
is already
besides being
to come

it is true
like all else is true

the empty candy wrapper
the trophy    the honor roll
the girl who didn't show
the guy who punched out your brother
the love of your slowly-silenced life

pleasure sure isn't overwhelming
but i'll take it
pain too
i won't fight about it

(it is true
if i had stayed on in new york
my sons would never have been)

born to die

that every moment of my life
lives in them
as it lives in me

it lives in you too
buttresses us
with all the fuss and bother
of intimate acquaintance
chance encounter
words remembered

born to die

is a dirty word
immortality ruse
for after


there is no more


there was nothing



am infinite waves of the everwideningsea
the water murders
the water floats us on to the dharma
buoys like gnats
beacons sins
the dharma

is nothing

nothing is nothing


is nothing

but this, this uncalculated unadorned rush of the waters and the spray
today yesterday tomorrow



call it love

i love you
i love all of my days you keep safe inside
i love the light that touches your smile
i love the face that smiles
i love the weight of your problems
i love how you try
i love your cradle
love your tombstone
love all the fucked-up stupid days and ways and all the i's
love yours and mine
love what we share

i create and kill

with all the ragged days that will be swept into the silent bin
all the within    the plodding ploys    all the rainbow's tears
all the was and will be
all this nothing loves you
asks you to forgive

i was am to come

i share with the nothing world
rocking me in the nothing cradle
lowered to the nothing grave
the nothing prayers i was taught
left to echo

let me share my toys
these words are
bad habits
i won't break

they are in your life now
they tell me

keep your lamps trimmed and burning
as the grey halo silences the quick
jumps for the TV
tokes it up

ah the ocean

water does no wrong
we are all water

©2004 by John Eivaz

John Eivaz was born in New York and lives in California. He loves to write, because it is the cheapest thing one can do for fun when one is broke. He writes a lot, and has been published online and in print in various places, including past issues of Slow Trains and its first print anthology. In past incarnations he was the editor of MiPo~Print and the poetry and flash fiction editor of the Erotica Readers and Writers Web site. His writing has been recognized online by the IBPC, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He works at a winery. Read more of his work at the Web site he shares with P.J. Nights.

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