~Oh! Delicious Death of Self~
your un-Selfing of Life
fermented sweet,
eyes opening,
filling with
| V O I D |
the substance of the
Nameless White Light's
Nothingness,
infinitely
present
Unblinking in its
inescapable
witnessing of
The All of its
not-self
Jan 27, 2023
Jan 27, 2023 at 2:03 PM UTC
a frozen resonance of voices, drifting
cries, uninvited remembrance --
a selfless gift, trust arrives.
life must be chosen, and
the future re-righted
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
would-be canopy trees
fight for forest light,
but we prefer to bask
in the open desert
sun
my fellow shrubs and I
share the dome-view
sky and elemental blast
equally
we burn the nightfreeze
and with our skirting wind dance
we flutter on the breeze, and
dream--
vertically
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
I am the universe
I am trying to describe~
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
feeling brave
today.
i'd be wise
to
stay
indoors.
but,
i'm
not feeling
wise.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
The flood of weekend fun
has ended -- its deluge
Of waves and love and friends
. . . as waves.
Persists, propels a new inspiration.
Inertia.
Forward.
Back to reality, to work,
responsibility.
To simple morning coffee,
once again,
That reminds me, simply,
once again,
That all these forms are my reality
There is no dearth
Of reality
No dearth
Of weekends
Of mornings
Of coffee
Of work
Of responsibility
Of friends
Of love
Inertia
Forms
Waves
Reality
No dearth
No dearth
Just fun
Just flood
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
i want to start something -
pick up an instrument, a brush, a flash -
want to get this thing inside of me
out
sweet and sharp
a cluster of contradictions that
ebb and flow smoothly
from one
e x t r e m e t o a n o t h e r
it
feels electric, burning, bright - like the stars
are under my skin
leaving me thrumming, aching
it ZINGS
Rings
Round and round my
head
heart
home
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
She leaned over
her concrete canvas,
--The canvas
that wasn't
a canvas until
the smile
behind her smile
made it
So.
Ready for color-
She danced with
frozen rainbow
brushes
--Solid/liquid fun
that leapt
and pirouetted,
deliquescing in
her hands
. . . seemingly.
Made for making.
He watched her
steps, in their
-Beginninglessness;
projected-threw
newborn light of
old consciousness
in motion
Speaking.
Gestures of love-
Drawing together their
formlessly-aligned
intentions,
-His two left feet
tripping
over her lack
of back-
facing eyes,
that are
without
Purpose
when life is lived
by the living-
who do not try to
fold fate into
tiny
shapes
of
futility
--Other than
Themselves--
But prefer (rather)
to gambol with
existence
in the fleeting
endlessness
of
selfless
company.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC