A Million to One

I felt the fire
            with no heat or burn
I endured the unmanifested wound
            no doctor could diagnose
            no healing teacher
            no priest had a clue

Sleep would not arrive
            a smile would have
                        shattered my face
            a simple pleasure
                        would have frozen
            my heart with fear

The trek was long
            the time was short
Now I had arrived
            back in the arms
            where the trip began
Breath Inside The Breath
            against all odds I have learned
            to recognize You

            God Vacana

The stove is a god
            electricity is god
The air-conditioner is a god
            a rock in the middle of the road
                        is god
            when it looks like an elephant
                        or a dick
A bump on a log is god
            the atom bomb also god
A megaton is god
            a microgram god
The feminine principle god
            beauty wealth health
                        elusive gods who ambush
The automatic coffee maker is a god
            the refrigerator
                        the ten billion grass blades
            of the front lawn, everyone a god

Gods gods gods godz they’re everywhere
            there's no place to walk
One can’t move without sacrilege
            one can’t talk without blaspheming

There’s only one god
            It is Substance, It is Entirely Nature
It is You My Wife and Lover
Your sound is your name
I hear you in the smallest move of time
O Breath Inside The Breath

            Poor Man’s Vacana

The rich will give fabulous
            (to one such as I)
            amounts of wealth & credit
                        to many noble & lofty causes
What can
            a poor man
                        offer?
The rich will build
            temples libraries museums
                        universities cathedrals
                        bridges
If you ask  for my labor
            please know
                        it’s all I have to sell
My legs are trucks
            of cement and brick
                        steel and glass
My torso is a field        
            where the produce
                        feeding the world
            lives dies lives
My head is the tower
            where the histories
                        the books the knowledge
            of all humans reside
My heart pumps the deepest notes
            of all true love songs
All that is standing permanent
            will fall
All that is moving temporary
            will always be here
Yes, Breath Inside The Breath

Andy Clausen is a coeditor of Poems for the Nation (Seven Stories Press), a collection of contemporary political poems compiled by the late poet Allen Ginsberg.  Clausen is the author of nine books of poetry, including 40th Century Man: Selected Verse 1996-1966 (Autonomedia), and Without Doubt (Zeitgeist Press). 

Bo Baba is a mystic poet who scoffs at mysticism. 

For information about the new book by Andy Clausen and Bo Baba, Songs of Bo Baba, write to:

Shivastan Publishing
54E Tinker St.
Woodstock, NY 12498