Tag Archives: poetry

All Wonder As This

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All and many I meet myself

the prairie dogs out in the sun

the cat making its loud request

even the band members three

the silent one at work avoiding

the one who touches in asking

•

Each meeting and non-meeting

escalates the palpability of I-Thou

truly lightly firmly sometimes

fascination igniting conscience

tussle and pull forward backward

separateness stands to be shorn

•

Like the sheep giving it all over

for some other purpose than

their own, I now wearing some-

thing of the other as my cover,

this is how things get interesting

parsing apportioning we tempt

•

The unfortunate fate of old, worn

housings that which dances past

and through awkward dreams

unfettered and lost in designated

zones where no key or lock can

keep or much less open or close

•

Fancy that! How many times so

far have you walked onto That

stage, the one where most divine

counsel awaits ready to invite you

to burn As Yourself and No Other

resistance melting with that ace

•

As the curtain rises –an exposé

like no other upstages what once

was Now Seen Heard Spoken as

effulgence in the making unplugged

freeing the intermediaries of the toil

of battening down the misbegotten

•

I-Thou No Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou As Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou Be Loved

All Wonder As This

Crowning Glory

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I step out barely
— into the sky as
the crowning glory
of all things myself
and not myself

For I find myself
within and between
and without these
wings, one of not
and one of all

Frighteningly so
at first but the lift
gathers and throws
me into the vastness
of this blue ocean

Learning to swim
in the sky of my Being
and not run or flee
but fly as I am
— crowning glory

My roots are freed
riding the currents
along with all that
once fettered me
when I looked down

Meeting these fresh
forces –alighting like
quantum treasures of
that which we Are
sharing now this Crack

Into that fabric of plane
existence shocking me
free of that pondering
wasteland –all that binds
and frets now scours forth

A Song of the unfolded
mystery of the most plain,
dry only of sorrows once
passed over and now
absorbed, dancing as Lift

Within and beneath
these transparent wings
blue as the sky clear as
diamonds polished by
the heart of hearts once
and only always free

Like This

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The earth is like this to me
ha bowne doewn doewn na na na
The sky is like this
swee swee swee na la
And the snow
haaah so so hey sshhh

Oh so so, you BelovedDSCN0355
where and what are you 
to me or to we -- swee
swee na na na so so hey

The river the river the river
sallaway sallaway saraney
eoinden eoinden snaei
The sun shaping of shadow
like this like this
(silently) (silently)

When do we when do we
anina ani na ohw ohw
How do we how do we
like this like this

GO!

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3338

(undercover)

/

Can’t stand it! 

So, sitting down now

with these spills

for fingering consistently

unlike pen and paper

\

Q  W  E  R  T  Y

some Jolly Roger

of our time, that

kind of decisiveness

laid wake –Argh!

\

Who’s pilot am I

in this Course of

Consternation re:

(F for Futile/Fluttering)

formation as lark

\

Those wings have

spread of their own

anytime anywhere

can take issue exitus

una cum omnia

\

But do they give

flight (or fight or flight)

where does the rest

(of us) find lift inconta-

minatum ex cogitatione

\

(Out with it!)

/

Only this week, Go! give Self

permission to angst, to voice

the angst of the fool the wizened

fool, the one who rides the wobble

of the world who wears the seatbelt,

the constraint of it all, to this existence

–not from fear of hurling through space.

Rather, in being with it all, that Ride-appeal

a tension of ‘not two’ but then what? What Is.

The body vehicle –check, awareness of the body

vehicle –check, the mind –check, absence of mind

–check! This angst –check; ballast ready for jettisoning.

Navigators –check; gross or subtle, oftentimes imperceptible.

Short and sweet ~ in response to prompts of 10 or 14 words

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ten words: Ten and Ten and Ten Again

it

never

really

surprises

me

where

i

am,

like

here

 

Life (No 13 in Musical Humors) :

please click here to see/read this ten word ‘poem’

 

and fourteen words for One Love:

 

until that time
found or not
it rests in wait
there within –the pearl

• • •

A love like this
Still as fallen snow
Facets in brilliance
We are That

somɹǝsault

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A ten word poem from the recent IMUNURI prompt this week. I found it came in (two takes) –each a little different.  ¡ʇı ɥʇıʍ unɟ ǝʌɐɥ noʎ ǝdoH

http://imunuri.blogspot.com/2013/01/somsault.html

Skin Deeper

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You’ve lost your watch
and nearly lost your mind
you can see and feel yet
•
You passed out of time
and now you reach for
but out there there are
•
No references any more
real than one thing from
another or all things real
•
In their own way just as
you real within this skin
consciousness skin deeper
•
The blinking cursor tells
nothing like it once may
have now only intervals
•
With some precision and
without measure so help
you time where what when
•
Something helps you pace
yourself find your bearings
we’ve given those numbers
•
Strange fruit such magic
unfolding again and again
before our eyes oh yes
•
How will you know to
arrive to depart to fall in
to be yourself all in all
•
Such fraternity the avenue
of time cannot turn against
all things unto themselves
•
Out(side) of time we rest
markers makers listening
as long as stars hold yet
•
Even then or were that
may be or not we start
again deeper than begin

Welcome/Valkommen

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There is no question
Anymore even where
Once there were two,
Three, four, even more.
Resounding fathomless
Space time returning to
Itself prescient, unaltered.
•
Silence, in its knowing,
Visits without visiting
Sings without singing
Arrives without arriving.
•
•
After Where Life Resounds by Dag Hammarskjold

land cloud earth air water and photography

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slope ridge line light

Photography –a medium I first explored over three decades ago and now find myself coming back to again, is compelling. It is the appearance or illusion of what was seen –not seen by the naked eye but by the camera, as Garry Winogrand so aptly noted as he discussed photography while being filmed himself for a documentary on photography.

We can look at photography in another way, not the way the camera ‘looks’ at the world in that split second aperture opening, but the way the human being and the human eye explores and glances, focusing or not focusing at something. Each photograph I take asks, if it can be said that way, to be looked at differently. In the photo above, for the body/brain there is a gestalt here. There are worlds within worlds in this image in the way I experience it. There is abstract beauty, there is light, dance, majesty, tenderness, softness, a deep relax. I love what seems to me the visitors, the trees high up on the ridge drawing my attention and intersecting the ridge line, riding the slope of this arid mountainside.

I love the scale shift in detail from the foreground to the very distant space of the ridge on into the sky. The feel of the day that drew me out into its changeability is touched here in this photograph, for me. Something breathes more easily within me in the presence of this light and shadow illusion of a land and cloud scape. So where might we say this landscape exists?

As invisible

as an updraft, the eye soars

as the osprey’s flight

Penthouse [and other conversations]

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Penthouse and other conversations

 

This is not a house / but what pretends.

                      I am here nonetheless living / and life and my life fill this space 

Life unfolds through different orders

                      There is tenderness amongst these words,

and I might wonder in the in-between

                      I just was not able to crowd out the thoughts 

where holding, housing seems real.

                      that gruffness in the face of subterfuge, mine or ours.

•

Building has made things lie lifeless

                      I’ve been a builder of many things

and what has come to know these?

                      split myself –polarity of material plane

Something feigns to dwell and comes

                      as if one thing is better than another                        

nonetheless as if dwelling here abides.

                      confined within the designs of things.

•

Oh, the mis-take of it all. We borrow

                      No mistakes really whenever I see

and borrow such blurring until

                      resting is what is such that

little edge or distinction remains.

                      resting and restless find their joining.

•

I rest in the in-dwelling,

                      Yet I cannot be in without out

the in-dwelling needing no arrival.

                      coming and going are the same.

It is the departing, which lays waste

                      This one who departs and does not see –this

and waste again, as unsettling ensues.

                      song is for her to remind and restore her.

•

I dream of simpler forays

                      In the dream there is this dream too

the meeting in directness

                      one cannot be without the other –yet

where the purest movement speaks stillness,

                      their divide is what is not real –breathing

unlike the manipulation of reality taken on

                      now –All is beyond question welcoming

as second nature and even first.

                      the manifest as the poetry of it All.

•

I pause, considering ~ the in-dwelling remains

                      Still point / zero point

needing no artifice, climbs without effort

                      welcoming the manifest

and also falls with no aversion.

                      as the poetry of it All.