morning footstream with wild plums
20 May 2016 ~ My walk this morning was a natural inquiry, one that happened gently on its own. Sometimes contemplations are like that, as they gently arise from the font of one’s inner life. I find that as I set my body into motion as I walk with my dog this morning, that there is another stream there, an inner world that has its own unique ecology and resilience. Continue reading
I gather my life
each morning
as I wake
and sometimes
this collection
seems ill fit —
a strange fruit
curious that these
of odd origins
–would still
be with me
what is it
that compels
the gathering up
the sorting through
as if there was
an actual collection
of things
for don’t we
arise fresh & new
each day?
can we not
but do that?
what accrues
at our feet,
around ankles
recollections
what strange
chance that is
as if things
are tethered
tight to me
that I have no
real choice
about –somehow
even trying on
this form
these quick sentences
one sentence
too a sentence
enteric gossip
things left behind
undigested
left unresolved
festering
only in the way
that things
kept shut in
will do
What will it take
this journey that is already fulfilled –complete –honored
what will it take to begin this journey
as if there is no end
And what will it take
to live within each step
as if the placing of these feet
on hard or soft or bogged or bright ground
somehow will right me –restore me –save me
from what I am and am not
as if there is a confusion there
carried through these eons of loss and gravitation
There is None No-one who says
what can be done or not done
There is no one marking the way
not as yet as I can see
And yet there is an encounter
something real and palpable
and perhaps mistaken for real
–the light can cast in myriad of ways
In the mists veiling my own Silence
words curl around the nooks
of my bones and flesh –lighting down
making a landing, offering solace
These words here now –parched –dry
picked up as breadcrumbs
but it is simply unknown who or what
left them here –was it me? –was it You?
This quandary calls out the insight
the timeless continuity of All That Is
what comes before when there is no beginning
and in no end –what conclusions might arise?
Taking it off –taking it on
covering and uncovering
placing and wait as grace returns
Emanating Silence –this brilliance like no other
The cracks have been opening up –here there and underneath
what used to be on top –like cracks in a hard crust of soil
once baked by light, deluged with raindrops, more light
These soils are a community of their own
sometimes thirsty sometimes paused in reflection
such that growing things are made temporarily mystified
Would it be that something elemental is missing
Or amongst all the bystanders perhaps readily available
like implicit memory waking up giving signals of many orders
The dance is moving so quickly, agile or not, positron wave
falling through and between perception in pure fluid motion
bridges created as life itself, timeless free fall, magnitude of silence
Life Being Life 
