despite the pure fluidity of all things
things still seem stuck frozen at times
at times like these when reflections surface
distortions refractions images broken up
broken up into many pieces then shorn
as if cohesive and malleable workable
workings as if reliable and functioning
stable we take hold perhaps unawares
unaware of the tenderness of the situation
the pure fluidity of all things and more
10 May 2014
the dogs are in the sky
in the clouds
the colors are their sniffing ground
I walk with them wild openness
nothing tethered
their playing field
is pure changeability
from one moment to the next
the sky dogs roam
but in their roaming
come home again and again
never leaving the vastness
of their infinitude
bedding down only
in the thunder and
the lightning
howling and braying
cascading down the gorge
the tender-footed ones
follow the light traces
wings of birds
starlight
the calls of coyotes
and bright cactus flowerings
they dig
and dig deeper
into my being
pirouettes and thermals
carrying me to the
outer atmosphere
beyond any longing
swimming a rarified ocean
and as I follow
will I tip onto the other side
even imagining
another side
has the weight of
pretend and posture
this vastness holds
no bars on any spiral
The perimeter is littered with things fallen by the wayside
They can rest there to simply suggest activities of once was
Faerie circles of a different order perhaps, but truly they are
≈
Have you ever heard of ‘Life is Sacred’ or transmutation?
Just look and look in the looking with the eyes of I Am
How many times do I say, ‘Astounding, astounding, astounding’?
≈
Can we spread the arc of this perimeter and find a dancing ground
In common even as we stand at times nakedly in The Commons
Unaware of what seems lost but never was, never was, never was
≈
I place my hand near, near to your heart but only in my mind’s eye
Somehow even this touch saturates the field, touch outside of resistance
And therefore deeper than even what seeing and believing can grant
≈
We bring what was/is split into this unseen contact covert mending
Of rifts that once cast asunder flesh from flesh eroding of earth
Demanding only that we become the missing element innate intelligence
≈
It might shock what is seen, perceived, felt, known with Presence
And this gentle but penetrating wind lays bare all coverings, the battens
Perceiver and perceived intertwined in a choreography unwrought
≈
Venerable heart of us all we are held in this music synarchic tune
However raw unfinished untempered diamond in the rough still
A diamond facets inherent within aware or not as beloved we see
≈
And yet we wrestle fighting not what we know but what fears
In us that loom large truly only in our imaginations what grace
This wrestling too a dance and reconciliation of the highest order
≈
birthing and dying simultaneous actions
twilight and break of day cannot be disjoined
music and silence virtually one and the same
∞
so why do we carry such pretense as
playing as if there is only life creative
without life dismembering itself too
∞
our bags are overfilling as we carry
the carcass of all that has already
departed carrying on the pattern
∞
of What Was tripping over What Is
forging some remnant nonexistent now
into something we pay homage over and over
∞
memorializing as a preoccupation takes over
while the beautiful concerto of life / death
carries on all around us in every way and thing
∞
listening now to the music and the silence
welcoming birthing and dying simultaneously
such moves in us breath in breath out
∞
to RUH and the crystals of consciousness, too
For thoughts on the writing of this poem, see below. Originally published on IMUNURI.
(s)
a = morning
b = afternoon
c = evening
d = day
does a + b + c = d
(?)
apparent passage
of time
walks all over
everything
we think
($)
without time
the space
between
things would not
contain monies
(!)
as if those
spaces
did as we think
dark matter
anti matter
(*)
IT previously
not conceived of
not seen
electroweak field
strong interaction
| (10−22) |
of a second
disassembles
Standard Model*
shaking in its
spin-parity
(¡)
little
do we know
yet beautifully adapt
(we = cognizant)
as/within all forces
(<3)
*the so-called Standard Model of Elementary Particles
This poem found its canvas and spark via an experimental poetry, group blog, IMUNURI,which I write on somewhat frequently. The prompt we were given for this cycle of writing was called Zephyr. I find the prompts can spark something for me, as in the case of this poem, that otherwise I may not have arrived at within a more familiar terrain.
I’ve had a lay person’s passion for quantum mechanics and quantum physics for as long as I can remember. Recently, I’ve been reading on the phenomena of entanglement or quantum entanglement in The God Effect by Brian Clegg (St Martin’s Press 2006). This phenomena is not a mind boggler for me, as it is something I experience again and again and seem to have a perception of rather naturally. Yet I am fascinated by its seeming elusiveness. Clegg describes the time when (some very famous) physicists could not conceive of matter exhibiting non-locality (or entanglement.) For some it was considered a joke or, at best, utterly outside of classic lines of thinking, thus impossible.
I’m inspired by the shape shifting aspects of certainty. What we once thought certain, no longer is from a different perspective. Can we let ourselves be open to new perspectives? It’s that ‘outside of the box’ possibility that inspired this poem. Playful, risky, celebratory ~ all characteristics of an experimental poetics.
.
This one showing up
Rises on the view
Looking out over open horizons
Curious and curiouser
And I, what is I am, watching
.
I stand in your company
The stories pour and pour
Forth that great big vessel
Of a heart uncontainable
But wishing to be contained
.
Who has the story or does
The story have us intermingled
Woven in and out of the weft
Of being thread of becoming
Such a delicate thread it is
.
However it is it is a gift of
Heart of love of seeing
Beauty speaks through these
Strings strum simultaneously
Tremolo sostenuto entangle
.
Trust Fortitude Misfortune Joy
All gather ’round the table
Made just for these and Two
Others autonomous resplendent
Everything celebrates This One
.
“Will you let me love you?” Awry
The question shines like a diamond
Many faceted and subtle in its stark
Beauty because Love has no bounds
And knows this source from its core
.
No permission is needed as What Is
Is simply What Is ~ how many times
Does saying that make it so? It seems
Easier to speak the unspeakable
Than freeing that which is Unbound
.
My friends the journey we are on
is astonishing
–
The capacity to relax as What Is
breathes in us
–
Tickling the odds into something
odder still
–
The Yes that has been resting
as pure Being
–
Since before and outside of time
whispering ever
–
Not even the slightest touch of
stern effortlessly waits
–
And when it is come upon
just so
–
I’m not sure what astonishes more
that presence
–
Or the suddenness of recognition
-There All Along-
–
Like a bolt of lightning and
lightening both
–
Takes the breath away aloft
of preoccupations
–
The preferences forged amidst stress
of polar opposites
–
And forgetting the stark beauty of
All That Is
–
~
–
What captures our attention
rays of light
–
Reflecting the prism of the mind
in its dance
–
Or attention within awareness
as awareness
–
Where the Yes that rests
as Itself
–
Needing no argument nor
push against
–
Opening out even without opening
simply presents
–
I place the paper
out where I can
see it in passing
Days go by
waiting for the
precipitation that
earlier
came as barometric
shift somehow gauged
in this weathervane
Words start popping
through like vestiges
of a spring-like rain,
blessings
in this winter of winter-
day, warming and fragrant
worn like undergarments
in a drafty house
offerings
to the Knowing Emptiness
Oh, under it, under all the vestiges
of what if, what old boards and
dust and fragments, but these
That pepper the bed clothes with
less than perfect sleep, tossing
and turning under the weight of it
This reality, packed up in numerous
boxes ~ to-go for this, to-go for that
under packing it, as What Is is
So much more yet where does at-
tention, at tension, go ~ no resting.
Others instead bring beauty, grace.
But no, these old things beg to be
of Use. Or is it that ? Perhaps but
what if, what if, if what, if What Is
Were already of Use? Bizarre order.
This memory of tossing and turning
now folds into the voice of the light
Opening out over crystalline hoarfrost
warming and dazzling just as it is
this juxtaposition of dour and dulcet.
The rigid supposing, how does it serve?
As if what if were magic, elixir of
fortitude, grace, wonder, and not burden.
Leave it open, don’t pretend resolve.
Clustering what ifs wait in the cold
not sure of their fate. What if they knew?
I say these things
You laugh
What heart are we
And where
The attachments fall so
Heavily at my feet
Stubbing toes and more
I Am That
Does it matter where
I Am
Relax, says the sky
I am here
You can’t go anywhere
Without me
This vastness answers
All my questions
Just because they appear
To be moving
Doesn’t mean the clouds
Abandon us
You have finally stumbled
Across my breadcrumbs
Now it’s my turn to laugh
Because you are the path
Finding your way home
Could never be easier
Conjuring vastness
There a hundred fold reward
Who has strayed
Off the path perhaps me
Order is never lost
Only found that single garment
A dazzling raiment
As I plainly step out of my skin
The absolute waiting
Beyond comprehension
A stillness not
Measured nor breathed
Paths converge
Never having been split
Life Being Life 