H e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i v e s E d i t i o n

PETER MARTI

Too Weary

Too weary to fold my clothes.

Too weary to order vicodin on-line, I delete spam from my

in-box.

Too weary to wear a condom, I lose interest in sex.

Too weary to lift the toilet seat, I sit and pee like a girl.

Too weary to say “I love you” back to my wife, I grunt

and switch off the light.

Too weary to sleep, I watch the full moon plummet

through the starless night sky towards dawn.

Too weary to keep my eyes open during Tibetan Buddhist

teachings, I daydream about tomorrow’s lunch.

Too weary as manager to read 10 page handwritten letter

from three year retreatants.

Too weary to join the sangha dancing, I go home & watch

James Bond alone.

Too weary to invent a story about a gun.

Too weary to work as cook, I turn in letter of resignation

to my cat who complains loudly about the rain on our

cheap tin roof.

Too weary to trod the One Path to complete

Enlightenment, I leave the crowded shrine tent to go home

and bathe.