In a revered Tibetan tradition,
I read aloud to my father,
the dead are borne to mountains
and the bodies offered to vultures.
I show him the photographs
of a monk raising an ax,
a corpse chopped into pieces,
a skull crushed with a large rock.
As one we contemplate the birds,
the charnel ground, the bone dust
thick as smoke flying in the wind.
Our dark meditation comforts us.
I ask if he’d like me to carry him—
like a bundle of sticks on my back—
up a mountain road to a high meadow
and feed him to the tireless vultures.
"Yes," he says, raising a crooked finger,
"and remember to wield the ax with love."
Phrases that I've longed to hear,
he has lined with my left ear.
Never done to create your own
I wait for a sign; maybe tuckered eyes.
oh I do dwell.
It is time to make cinch,
it is time for // time for bed.
Only to resume this talk of a rising tide,
repeatedly in my ponderous head.
The weight of my consciousness
The chatter of endless thoughts
Now a low hum
I fill my chest with air
And exhale knowledge
The third eye crusted shut
With years of flouride and impurity
Now beginning to see again
though I am not worthy
Of the majesty it will eventually
Bestow upon me
I will find bodha,
I want to experience
The absolute truth
Sitting with Gautama beneath his Pipal tree
Bathing in his wisdom
For he knows my suffering,
And the long path I have traveled
To understand it
And become a higher being
Rasasvada is my only escape now,
Until I become truely enlightened
Rasasvada - Feeling of bliss in the absence of thoughts, happiness in meditation
Bodha - Truth, enlightenment
samadhi - advanced state of meditation; absorption in the Self; Oneness; the mind becoming identified with the object of meditation
I am a shell and
I am empty and
my seams are torn and ripped and ragged
like a dagger has sliced a hurricane through my chest
and all the emotions I'm supposed to have have poured out
like red red blood that pools and drips and
streams from my wrists like
the hungry blade of nothingness like
how I felt that time I waltzed with death
because I am not a real person
no one cares
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
All common things, each day’s events,
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
The low desire, the base design,
That makes another’s virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess;
The longing for ignoble things;
The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;
All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes
The action of the nobler will;—
All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.
We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.
The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.
The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.
The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern—unseen before—
A path to higher destinies,
Nor doom the irrevocable Past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
He gave her a flower
And it multiplied
In her mind.
Lone petals millionizing
He gave her a cigarette.
The chain reaction
They call addiction.
It multiplied in her lungs-
She couldn't stay satisfied.
And she never quit.
He gave her a kiss.
Or maybe she stole it.
Those multiplied too.
Her lips aching and raw
When it was time to speak.
He gave her an end
When he left
And the second
She took down
Death in her stomach.
Until the seconds ticked
And expanded onward
Because those seconds gone
Were infinitely gone,
Multiplied too much.