Tag Archives: the dark

No Causal Purport


There is no

meaning to grasp

there is just this

this arising here and now,

perhaps of all time


In a world where one thing

has more often

than not

meant one thing

while saying another


The naked courage

to lay plainly

before all

that has preyed upon

one’s own being


May seem as folly

may ironically convey


or be taken wrongly

as blatant arrogance


I have been infected

and affected more deeply

than I know (blind, blind)

And it is that scourge

that I lay bare to


The way has confusion

The way can mystify

These ways that I am

called and called again

–quietly, yet ever insistently


There are brambles thicket

forest darkness forest floor

–thorns, barbs pull

at my cloth, at my ardor

taste of perspiration


If the body could profess

its innocence

its determination

it would look like this

unveiling plainly all pretense


Putting pretense aside

putting pretense aside

putting pretense aside

come forward

come forward


What have you

what are you now?

Who would you be

stripped clean –of comforts

loose-fitting honesties


What greater ally could there be

than one who calls out the

antidote to the demands

of the frenzied auctioneer,

“Step it up, step it up!”


Are not you done –tired of

that dance and even of

dancing partners –subjects

of what they do not

even know themselves


No more, no more!

If I knew the way,

I would be there already

Perhaps I am more there

than even I know


Is it an insistent bygone

clinging still as a trace

of hoped for companionship

that the last longing

brandishes even now


Please see plainly

–along with me please

See me plainly seeing

what is, seeing you

Seeing through



27 December 2015

San Cristobal, NM

Its Own Wonder


The dark left as itself
impresses upon me a whole,
a depth incomparable,
a wonderment beyond
what typically is taken
as the simple absence of light

For the dark is itself
a deep nourishing, a salve
to my bones and beingness as
I walk in the dark, sampling
this exquisite treat of the
unnameable senses

True would be the loss
to suffer nyctalopia, although
many do without knowing
this condition is theirs,
we’ve become so blind
within the hierarchy of light


Dusk finds the ground within
such that surfaces dissolve
give way to the softer core heat
This communication begins
its emanation, naming each
thing anew as dark arises

In contrast, intentioned light
overshadows and can carelessly enter
the exquisiteness of the dark
where naturally listening things
recede into their essential
incognito. The dusk is that listening


What do we have in common
with the dark? Are we not dark,
dark in our marrow, in our quiet,

in so many yet to be
realized ways?

And how are we similar to a flame?
The flame, kin to the dark, is it not
ever tender to the shadows?
Lighting a flame, our dark
dances within, with, and around us.


As a sweet melancholy
unlike anything
I am drawn to take to the dark,

an exquisite entry

A prescription unique,
a remembering

walking forward looking deeply

eyes open and open again,

The vastness of the dark field,
to deeply see
what cannot be seen
what cannot

be perceived
through a different wonder.