The book within which my mind/fingers/perception now inter-tangles
Is a numinous window/doorway/matrix where abiding is
–
Beyond and through the inside/outside being question/answer
Nothing held back even in the current system version and nuts ‘n bolts
–
We are meeting everything we are ALL the time NO exception
Where are the reins, if there are any reins at all, once a bit ‘n bridle
–
This book unwritten and written both, abides with effortless grace
Just before its expression, as the tenterhooks of the unconditional
–
We praise those who can pull the physicality from the vision As if
Its existence were something of utterly impossible proportions
–
The way you cannot put your finger on the music itself only the score
But to inhabit or rest with that which is only you or self, vibratory-self
–
Do not go to that tempting sense of separate identity, so many filters
Must be engaged, energized -only to dumb down the very essence of You
–
What is pleasure but an awesome joining with What Is, no separation,
Which identity and falsehood claim as their territory, a cocks’ waddle
–
We take exceptional acceptance to preferences in which identity relies
Not even realizing we are doing so, we become the pecking order itself
–
I am this book, closed or open. I have this life. I am life here and now.
Many pages are there written, unwritten, erased and rewritten, evermore
–
Transparent to the phenomenal existence of the felt sense and beyond
Pages turn within pages, simultaneously flowing, multi-directional space
–
This book that carries space as the primary ingredient and we write with
The particles of our beingness, sometimes so tightly and so densely
–
Only to see in sharp contrast in those moments outside of time how we
Catch our breath on the densities, grasping and gasping in that weather
–
Worn way of guarding ourselves from What Is as if there were something
Better to have and hold even though having and holding are pure fiction
–
Just look at the nature of phenomena, what has ever stopped phenomena
In such a way that What Is is stored, saved, made impervious to that which
–
We Are. The background and foreground, look there, as they are so often
Reversed or better yet, made real in their opposites, then chosen and fitted
–
As yourself. Choosing, a kind of choosing we call living this life, takes us over
And the true choice is no choice: simply not setting yourself/other apart
–
All within these pages whether of paper of earth or pages of touch screen
Enter in and rest, as the you you know/don’t know is already resting within.
.
September 25 – 28. 2013
