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Grandmother

The sky and trees, reflected once in the creek, are reflected again in my thoughts. These are not the black trees written on a light gray sky that small black words bring to mind. But, green and living, they stretch to grasp the sun, lobsterlike in living claws.

Alternate Styles, One Life

To begin with, I don’t believe in alternate life styles. Having lived communally, having been married, having lived alone, it all comes down to the same thing: you live, ultimately, with yourself.

Response To Sy Safransky’s “An Open Letter To Ram Dass”

One day in 1971 my Guru asked me what I did about the letters I received. I replied that I answered them. Two letters had been brought to him that day. One letter he put on top of his head and the other he held between his hands for a moment. Then he tore up both of them and threw them on the ground.

Death And Other Cures

An Interview With Dr. Lobsang Dolma

“Illness,” she says, “is caused by your own actions in this or a former lifetime. Killing, stealing, and lying can draw illness to yourself.” In one out of ten illnesses, she continues, an evil spirit is present.

Treehouse: Growing Up, But Mostly Growing

I came to Tree House because I was under so much pressure at home I was about to have a breakdown. My family had broken up and I was living with my mother and my brother.

Sy’s New York Diary: Amazing Flesh

I read, in the newspaper, about a man who is dragged from his car, knifed repeatedly for the few dollars in his wallet, and left bleeding in the gutter. My mother says her friends don’t go out at night. It’s an old story, old as the city’s tired and dour expression, old as the dry and wrinkled hands of a man trying to remember better days and remembering nothing but bone.

Spring

Selected Poems