Larry Goodell
For the Cowboy Buddha On His 67th Birthday

for Gino Sky

The fence is always straddley-er on the greener side.

Here is what we do:
we’ll be dead in the onion city of paradise.

Paradise: when the two rivers meet in a confusion of species.
Species: all species all species all species.

The river runs upward and downward
and joins in the two cities of Monach-ma & Monach-ma Glory.

Singing up flowing to a shattering waterfall.

Birds winging in doubt, owls sitting there
the Queen and King arguing over their debt.

Rivers flowing up and down.

Trees what species cycads gonads palm trees.

What color are the men and women, what color are the little boys
the little girls.

At this point there were not too many men and women
There were not too many people.

Purple dawn. Electrified. Misted
a perfect rainbow to the West.

Double rainbow, gifted, high
from mountain side to lowering valley.

Rare, on this your birthday. On my friend’s birthday
in this mountainside of paradise.

We are not arguing. We’ve never had a cross word.
Creativity spills through our lives like rivers.

Rivers going up and down, friendship, rising
to a crashing waterfall:
it is surprising what life lets live.

That it should come to your 67th birthday
and I’m 67 too. That we pull through

in our separate paradise. Oh where there are onions
and corn to pick, and all the best vegetables
veggie tables. Mini farm, large heart.

Friendship in the dawn, friendship in the heart
closer than brothers, than sisters even in the
flowing river up the rushing river down
the waterfall, the desire, the flowing out.
The space that doesn’t exist between us.

Don’t take light of it, but make light of it
deep underground stream artesian awake.

As your novels & stories write themselves out Cowboy Buddha
and poems and songs celebrate

as my poems open like fans shake hands like friends
build to their raga ending when the duende release
leaves you on higher ground than you stood before

thanks to higher ground that cloudy mountain side
that obscure dream turns into rain

the mist with sun in early early morning
turn into the rainbow that is from me to you.

Thanks to inordinate power the creative spirit
of the heart, of the wings of the remembering mind
of the paradise of two and all friends, all where
true honest dreams are fulfilling, fulfilling fulfilling.

Crashing down waterfall from the two rivers of our dreams.
Reached the same age, together, apart in our high spirits
body dreams, appreciative. Great great
gratitude on both sides of the dawn.