theBaba.com

         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.