The Seedeaters

The seedeaters live by and

in the slender of the pitch

with no broadcast, no sheet,

no Dharma Art—simple silence,


but for all the other seedeaters

pecking at the same crack in

the cement during the dark of the night—

no stars, no moon, no vision.


And so many, and most, choose to live 

as forgotten funky angels

stuck in a crack, hunting seeds,

shiny with resin and jasmine.


Remember to rage.

And perhaps that is our way home-- 

to explore beyond adventure through intuition and scent.

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