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	walking through mountains
	on worn sandals, weathered feet
	stopping near a clearing
	for breath and drink

	he saw a dragon there
	of green and blue and gold
	a small footless One
	singing, playing in the sun

	    she could not walk
	    yet loved Earth the same
	    lying on her tired back
	    viewing Time upside down

	he saw Soul exposed in play
	of one old still growing
	blinked a tear stained eye
	wondered what dreams a dragon dreamt

	    she could fly with wings
	    of beauty and strength and grace
	    soaring through Spirit's sky
  

	dearest cari, the spite of fate
	be thou marry and free from hate
	faintest flow'r, thy eyes are bright
	in the shower of your warm light
	quiet beauty, so soft your voice
	e'er so sultry--thy form is choice

	dearest cari, so full of joy
	be not wary--with life do toy
	pretty siren, oh sing thy call
	life not barren when you stand tall
	lovely sparrow, thy wings may hold
	in your marrow the tale i told

	dearest cari, the spark of life
	like a fairy--the bane of strife
	flowing river, thy face is clear
	thou are silver--i wish you near
	a shining moon, thou art aglow
  

	Jeanne who stands, talks and laughs
	Who takes long, hot soothing baths
	She is happy--full of glee
	What a woman that she be

	Jeanne who lives, thinks and reads
	And dreams of green poppy seeds
	She is mature--full of mind
	A tasty specimen of her kind

	Jeanne who smiles and bounces
	Her brain: thirty-eight full ounces
	She is joy--life is prime
	Drink tequila with salt and lime

	there was a large red fan
	which hung from a red pear
	suspended by a string
	which was underneath the stair.
	many peaches in a can
	in the pantry of a king

	little effie happened by
	and spied this tasty treat
	caused a shortness of his breath
	and his heart to quickly beat
	the many fruits he longed to try
	not forseeing his eminent death

	returning to his cardboard box
	hungry after his long ride
	the king met effie and he said
	"forbidden fruit you have now tried"
	then he killed effie with a ceder block
	and found in his skull some gingerbread

Notes: inspired by e.e.cummings

         anyway,
         the cheesecake and the boat lights are calling me,
         and the man in the moon is laughing.
         the wind howls and the cold bites my toenails
         while the incense burns.
         a third-rate shaman may hold the answers
         that a master does not,
         and the buddha-nature of the lampshade
         will soon enough stare you in the face. 

I am the Baba, source of this all . . .

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