Tag Archives: poem

Falling Through and Between

Leave a reply

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

“Throw Me a Line”

Leave a reply

I will throw you a line

if you ask, beg, and plead

 

For that one you implore

is not only that which is

you/me/no other – us both!

 

So I am not helping you

out of lack or distinction or

tacit agreement that somehow

you are flawed or lost

 

But through earnestness

of that which we are both

 

And in that way, the very line

that I throw to you

upon finding your way

will simply dissolve in hand

 

As that hand is found to

no longer belong to any

other than Who You Are

What We Are seamlessly

 

You have thrown yourself

that very line that somehow

seemed unavoidably to come

from “The Other Not You”

 

And in that aggrandizing

how strange but true

you have increased your own

stead, but that very place

is none other than the All

 

Can you not see, but no worries

if the answer is “No” for the no

and the yes co-abide, the yes

seeming to throw its line to the no

and the no seeming to grab ahold

 

And in their meeting, both certainties

of self limitation dissolve in union

 

This Union that is no more deliberate

than exiting from the hall of mirrors

after having had our fun, our pleasure

casting shadows, shapes, and distortions

 

“Throw me a line,” you say,

and I will not refuse to play

in that sacred hall of mirrors

I say, “Throw me a line!”

•

•

~ thank you to the Gene Keys community online, friends near and far, visible and invisible
p.s. please click through to the above linked image “hall of mirrors”… did not want to publish a photo that I don’t have permission for, so it’s waiting there for you online on its home site 🙂

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Beholden

1 Reply

if I could open all the mysteries that daunt

would there not yet be another mystery lain

at yet another level or circuit of my being?

 

what of this earth and sky that is not seen

but felt in the bones and in the electrical pulses

throughout this finely tuned cutting, this scion

 

what am I cut from and what does carry me

in these ways that have many names, one

of which might be apocrypha or rubric lost

 

we have come upon things inexplicable, yet

somehow we are not at peace nor openly greet

that which is beholden to vastness and fire

IMG_20150304_180121422

we have looked upon our own center, that void

where the eye cannot see nor rightly focus

something of what we are, a purity in depth

 

and simplicity simultaneously defies convention

all things gathering and also falling around

this shockwave that has no compass or steer

 

perhaps that is the mystery, somehow we are

free of place and time yet conjure it still as

everything we do and say, playing at substantiation

 

we catch ourselves again and again in the folly

of needing to know how to come and go

when in coming there is the going ~ no distance

 

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Bless of Being

Leave a reply

 

IMG_20150717_201248623_HDR

The tides turn and turn, shifting

but still there is little to scour

 

Flotsam is not splayed about

upon the beach-like shores

 

Yet light glints off a found face

sparking brilliantly its presence

 

This seeing is by an eye observed within

of the heart cracked with a new interiority

 

What of this seeing  when it doesn’t match

any concentrated sense of what it is to exist

IMG_20150329_175716742

Does that suggest that this light, the glint

from within, is false or imagined somehow?

 

Heartily no! This shine is even brighter yetIMG_20150729_193458476

as it is seeing that has gained its illumination

 

We’ve somehow always known we see partially

whether we look closely or beg far-sightedness

 

What once remained mute in its invisibility

cascading like dark matter in vast space

 

Now is our epigenetic wonder and remaking

solace of grace and forthrightness of splendor

 

 

A Letter As Separate Self Dissolves (photo collage)

2 Replies

A Letter As Separate Self JPEGDear Followers of Contemplative Fire,

Thank you all (especially for the recent followers in 2015, who I haven’t had a chance to thank yet!) I have just created the above collage version of a poem of mine from back in February to share with a community, which I am part of, who are meeting in person soon. This photo collage version of my poetry is BRAND NEW for me.

Thanks for the help in getting it posted directly on the blog, Adam!

Blessings and love to you all!

5 HAIKU poems

2 Replies

 

Twilight bestows light

Amongst the branches touching

Caterpillar crawls

•

 

Winter dark ocean

Another realm submerged there

Breathing nothing drowns

 •

 

Sit-upon stone cold

Newness of life awake, dancing

The dog returns home

•

 

Light in the wood cast

Falling and also rising

I am that I am

•

 

Cherishing like earth

I soak in the springtime rains

Instantaneously

•

 

25, 26 May 2015

|T͟His| |kəˈlīdəˌskōp| |mīnd|

Leave a reply

kaleidoscope – ORIGIN early 19th cent.: from Greek kalos ‘beautiful’ + eidos ‘form’ + skopein ‘look at.’

DSCN1099

Liken to say, this mind is none other than a kaleidoscope perfection

Yet we are smitten as we hold it in our hands, forgotten the play,

The game of it and perhaps become lost in the grip, such that hardly

Can we imagine it as apparatus and instead have taken it –mistaken its

Images, patterns, colors, forms, fragments –appearing oh so beautiful–

 

As ourselves. Yes, we are Beauty, we are Awareness. We appear as form,

Yes. These fragments are ever changing, the mirrors and advantage of

Perception affords great visage; what is it that holds on often desperately

Within some fleetingly grasped image and makes that a home, a dwelling

Of such import? It is more of a cataclysmic order than actually discerned.

 

We have our reminders, however quickly we cast them aside, not even

Momentarily pausing within the recognition of this vast and luminous

Undisturbed emptiness –the very emanation of Beauty we are. Beauty,

Formless as breath, sure as spirit, belongs to no one thing, and seems

To hover in the midst of these objects that we think, we spin into existence

 

Borrowing the least palpable matter for that split second alighting upon.

What is it that compels the grab, hovering as mistake, again and again?

What is it that seems so lacking that we persistently gather at its feet as if

It actually exists separate from us? Are we not twisting something out of

Existence that we have made up, an impostor of the grandest order?

 

What is it that you are playing at? Just in this moment, see it plainly.

You, author, conductor, composer, director, is it feast, famine, crusade,

Epic, adventure? What aspects of life have the spotlight? Is it thought itself?

Is it death? Is it physical suffering or perhaps, elation? Is it powerlessness,

Betrayal of everything you/we are? Does creative spirit take the bow here?

 

And as quickly as the kaleidoscope turns, so do the images, appearances,

Along with the notions of who and what we are somehow separate from

Everything else in existence. Pause, take the apparatus in hand, look and

See that which is looking, holding the focus –not to denigrate or disparage.

Celebrate the kaleidoscopic perfection and rest, rest easy, rest as Awareness.

 

Absolutely all and everything is on your calling card, any order, any dance

Partner is available and already dancing with you. How magnificent the

10,000 things! Any one thing is all of these combined without any fixed

Combinations, nothing locked into place. Simply fathom this myriad! Play.

And breathe beyond recognition, simply experiencing What Is. Carry on.

 

San Cristobal, NM

28 February 2015

A Letter as Separate Self Dissolves

6 Replies

Things are just as they are

The many paper doll covers drop away

 

That which Plays does not leave, however

Only the kind of playing that was borne

 

Of striving, play acting, a wish to stand out

Somehow different, as if what we truly Are lacks.

 

No more pretending called for, although pretense

Arrives from time to time, leaving its calling card as

 

Residue, the way sour milk leaves its trace on the glass

The I can momentarily forget that it is Luminous, Empty,

 

That which Knows –and if it wears anything, it is stitched

Together entirely of Love and glows simply as Experiencing.

 

 

San Cristobal, NM

16 February 2015

 

The Will

Leave a reply

The house needs cleaning

things today are strewn about

papers organized and unorganized on the long table

Here and there, there and here

•

The thinking often has a wandering of garbled

life experiences collected along the way

And in dreams  it has a layering like a watercolor wash

over what life has brought here and there

•

Once it was a measure of something essential

–how smooth and ordered these realities

appeared, were managed, shown to the world at large

As if such a point in time made me who I am

•

I bequeath all things inessential to the unfolding

of this life’s replete emanation to their essential returning

Where nothing is owed, owned, thought of, or held over

and not a stick or crumb or iota measured in time.

•

I have died to the life once lived as if there was

an achievement to rally, a fortitude to gain –each of these

offered as a replacement for Simply what I am as myself

What a beautiful death it is, this vibratory transfiguration

•

Here now this territory –without having any territorial

justifications   Opens out –without distance and no other

demarcations that once claimed any right   Singing its vastness

–not as performance or fulfillment  What a singing it is

•

And the house invites cleaning

things today dancing without order

some papers rest and others conversing on the long table

Life is here, there is life

•

I wait without the waiting

each moment a death and transmutation

That is what it can take at times when time is on the clock, the will

written, thusly forgotten –and life is, life is

•

San Cristobal, NM 19 January 2015

•

Thank you as always, Daniel, for your support and love!

Hoarfrost

2 Replies

IMG_20150108_103724507

 

It arrived as seeming magic yesterday morning

like a new reality being seen for the first time

and remains today sharing its glow still.

 

This touch comes via its recognition –cold but not

A distinct warmth arrives unbidden. The eye

is relieved of its usual work on these mornings

 

Dispensing with its familiar taint formed of other

kinds of vapor, which we gather throughout our

day to day interactions with this stuff of reality.

 

Hoarfrost permeates much the same in its blanketing

of every surface nook and cranny, defying gravity, comes

only when called out by the elements, its conspirators.

 

Colors shift and change, the light dances new dances

–a communion of deep appreciation of living things

that have their own mastery and workings reaches me.

 

This day to day eye softens its course, lays down its tools,

puts aside whatever ways it’s become accustomed to

seeing the world and takes an in breath, yes, breathes in.

 

San Cristobal, NM

10 January 2015