...My Family is an indivisible
Light...where from bodies are
illumined to story.
My dear Family...O my dear
Family...illumined to story...
choice-point-impossible...
fully lit...
Om...Om...Om...
my dear Family.

...On the hour...twelve long stares in
want eternal--of which a clock rivets
nothing.
Spoilt milk stirred with a dead cow's
****...full revolution boring a hole of
light.
Overlook...to end, means and
justification--beginnings...the
perpetuation of beginnings only.
...Replenishment...centrifugal force--
by necessity must guard against...
for the love of beginnings.
...A tick expressed nervously on a
white wall...for fear of beginnings...
twelve long stares in want eternal.

Cry me language in all its hazarded flux.
Weight of many worlds, blown the bits
of thy nature.
The resourceful shock swept by thy
tongue...well and deep sleep under
kindred star.
Burrowing to what sprightly expanse
washes over pristine lifetime.
Put to, as here you were--lost and
found at wink, knowledge the empire
known and downed.
Every proof of life the fine cut of air...
unbearable tension--bare body erected
temple.
Hero, heroine...summoned, by slipped
continent...pregnant of call and
remastered poetry.
There's a voice given thee--piped to
song to appease the anxiety of creation.

First and Last impression foisted a revelatory sheath that
is the looking glass of all incarnation.
Revelatory sheath Facing both ends of the whited tunnel...
prior to birth when exiting...upon death when entering.
What was, is, will be Faced...prelude to the sound of
silence...that is the mouth of the nameless called by Name.
White pearls that spun their shells, as dilating eyes that
behold self in no-self.
Space fatigued by perfect stillness...self in no-self, suspended
animation...whose mind is allotted infinite motion.
The Original Face...***** features insure paradox...must be
worn and beheld Wholly...lest a chaotic incoherence whorls...
irregardless of the image of self...imageless no-self.
If Pure Consciousness had a Face--divested of its Way through
materiality, to melt by that which it cannot transcend...how
would it appear?


*"Original Face" is a Zen terminology referring to our face before we incarnated.

Clutch this passing away...gold-fleck
with outpouring hands this sable
workspace.
Ruffle angelic feathers in a fit of
loving zeal...oblige them holiday.
Tear thy body to pieces of giving...
for lack of better place.
As there shall be places in store where
being may be moved.
It is right, as breath need not mind
to do so...as yet it does.
There's only rise in effortlessness...
and in that rise what is innate divulges
itself.

I've seen a vast Ocean of Eyes
darting back and forth
left and right
undulating sequence
along the Moonlit night

this is No Trickling Stream you See
this is a raging Ocean of White froth Life

Herein lies the Chasm of Awareness
or Stairs of Consciousness,
if you need
the Praying Mantis shifts its Eyes
(Kneeling in the Blackness)
Down the very bottom of this
deep dark Ravine


We are the Creatures
We are the Seeds that We sow
We are all Mirrors

Tell me....what more must Eye know?????