Kirtan happened last night-

oh how wonderful it was,

I could have stayed there all night.

all eight of us were wailing our heads off,

and it was so beautiful!

I can see it now,

with everyone rising and falling,

at different tones

and it was like one giant orgasm of sound,

everybody’s voice a different color

on a canvas splattered here and streaked there

but totally covered in paint,

no one voice better than any other

voice, everyone wailing their hearts

out and no one letting their insecurities

or those shrill little demons

who live on their shoulders take over,

or even be heard- how could anything

be heard over that racket anyways?-

and we wailed like one being,

like one strange wolf with eight voices

howling at the moon.

Everyone held hands and

it felt so silly at first,

a girl of 22 holding hands

with a woman of 52 holding hands

with a farmer woman smelling like chickens,

and all singing with their eyes closed

sitting on the floor,

but once we got going,

once the vibrations equalized,

there was no thought of feeling ridiculous.

We held hands and rocked

from side to side,

our hands came up and fell down

as they saw fit,

as the energy flowing in our bodies

came together

at that meeting point of fingers and palms,

and we wailed and smiled

and there was no little man

whispering in my ear anymore,

no Norm to be heard,

and we did better than wail it,

we felt it,

all of us felt it

I know we did.

Never mind that outside of kirtan

I think they’re all a bunch of blind buffoons.

None of that mattered

because I wasn’t interacting with them,

just as I know they weren’t interacting

with me.

We were all plugged into the Big Electric Outlet,

an infinity-prong outlet

giving out all the joules, killowats,

or megahertz that you could ever need,

it provides it all for this planet

as well as the next,

and how lucky we were

to have caught that frequency.

At that point,

it wouldn’t have mattered

if I were holding hands with Hitler

on my left

and Charles Manson

on my right,

because it was ALL good,

and ALL means no exceptions,

not for Charles or Adolf,

not even Jesus-

not for me,

and certainly not for Rama,

Krishna, Shiva, Hanuman, or Seeta.

we wouldn’t exist if we weren’t,

not that we actually exist.

you know what I mean.

Even when Barbara wanted us

to sing a hokey hallelujia chant

after it had been made clear to everyone-

through no conspicuous signs,

mind you,

but if you were tuned in

you would have known it too-

that it was time to pack up

and call it a night,

even then it was ALL good.

It is always ALL good,

you understand,

always,

with no exception,

not even when your mother’s boyfriend

whom she met on an online dating site

and who everyone thinks is great

except you

who knows that the man is a complete fraud and is

Satan in disguise

and he kicks you out

of the house

a week after Christmas

with no more than the clothes

on your back and your car keys

in hand-

even then it is ALL good,

it is just the universe

giving you grist for the mill.

It is Vishnu, it is God,

that old devil,

stirring up the pot

to make things interesting,

and the sooner you agree

to let it be,

and to laugh along with God

when the shit

goes flying off the fan,

the sooner you will realize

that it really is ALL good.

Back to Original Poetry

Back to Table of Contents