Tag Archives: life

I Have (Am) This Book (Life)

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

A Stand In As Myself or Something Else

I have sometimes written a poem without having to be aware of the writing

You see, the poem aside from its writing or typing is an entity of its
own. It is seen, heard, felt, paused,

And squeezed out from behind the corner of the eye, the eye that is not
an eye


One where seeing comes in a whole other spectrum than

The usual one –not one you can manufacture here –one that exists already

It comes of its own accord like twilight or dawn, nothing can stop it or begin it


When you pause in the words, you’ll see a whole shift of light

It can easily be blocked, consciously or unconsciously; but if you let it be, everything takes on a different tone

For that time when things look as they do in between


The poem appears, it comes into its own, and recedes as if it has breath

[those reading and writing access it equally yet different]

It cannot be said even which comes first, the one who reads or what writes


And being is like that, too –am I myself or something else

What moves this now, not such that it is a hall of mirrors

But the something else continuously speaks itself as if I were the pen and paper