Green Tara

sits on her lotus-throne,

rimmed with pulsing petals.

energizing the enlightened

activity of her mandalic valley.

her very body.

not one season without growth,

what rounds the wavy portal of

her aural emanations--an upright sinewed sky.

zen-raked streams move with her

delicate wrists, watering two flowers

that will not heavy in her hands.

one red (ida) one blue (pingala).

how many eyes must

close over the tongue of

this bell?

whose ringing will not

subside, till the roost of

all meditation has settled.

Jesus never washed

his face again--

after Judas kissed

his cheek.

the most impactful,

the most liberating--is

often vilified.

a thankless monster

whose healing touch

becomes the basis of

all evils.

grace made to be discarded

as dead weight, yet how it

comes afresh--only to be said

of it no longer serves.

having spurred a rate of transformation

that must be deemed an invading force.

the: me, and not me of it--the crude cuts

of gross misunderstandings.

an imposing silence which must be

driven out.

avow,

piece apart yourself--

remembering to hail

your Marys.

praying by force of

nature to manifest in

an other's dailiness.

there is no need,

what is vowed through

is truly kept.

profound sensitivity

surrounds itself with

elusiveness.

the avoidant legacy of

a feast of nerves.

thunder clapping feathers.

protecting against what

will be the death of, its

perfect fit.

all that pure nourishment of

a world standing on end.

elusiveness surrounded--

becoming Itself.

~My isolation
has never
known solitude.
It was just
blinded
by the light
of truth.
Alone is forever
where I go
to sit in peace
with you~


impossibility loves me just as

much as you, firm as a way unable

to be seen thru--where i was a

wayshower, now i am not.

there lies the sacrifice, held there.

as one world promised to another

undelivered, seemingly hostile as

two broken arms left to embrace

aloneness.

being with it in all its impenetrability--

there's a caving in so deep no one can enter.

except the forgiveness that guides merciless

suffering.

to where one feels forgotten by the world

they so fiercely inhabit.

these initiations

of times and places

are triangular.

an inner or outer

touch to the fore-head

blinds as it blows away

a desert's glass maze.

transparent unto transparent.

i consider it an

honor to have been

hailed both: lifebringer

& death.

by such a one.

almost like reading different

sized letters on a chart in a

doctor's office.

while covering one eye, then

another--both given the opportunity

to see and not see.

this strangest of mutual poetry.

the wise don't wait on:

let it alone, as let it be.

they are all that remains,

at all times.

if a Muse is

true, it peers at your

art.

at it, from it.

arresting all development,

every vocable angle.

not merely representative

of life, but her in full.

surrender leaves

its own word without

a trace.

while meeting the call

of the called Home.

we who come around

to the same point.

overcome by all things

possible, i in fact know

you from somewhere.

i want to give this to you,

but you already beat me

to it.

garner strength,

feed.

redden the rose

at war.

trounce through

tiriya's flowerbed.

tear in half as torn,

between every footstep.

apportioning a nightime's

sleepless day.

to salvage the mind of

forward motion, but there's

no fleeing from freedom.

The Word

is with the union,

strung through an

everlasting mountain

chain.

how a yogi keeps time.

the whole of life

handed a pivotal

moment.

hers by the giving--

taken by that.

lest a foundation,

him in part.

where mothers trust

in death.

roaring and reigning

shanty towns.

deuces wound up.

a snake's toungue

forking a road.

underestimation

of the other,

otherness en toto--

can breed a karmic

dynasty.

a reticulating

take away--

action shot.

volcanic ash

on Pompeiian

mosaics.

Shiva demands i carry

handfuls of earth, and place

them on the same spot till

a mountain is raised.

then carry handfuls of ocean

water, pouring it on its crown

till it is submerged.

a thunderbolt

strikes sound once,

wherefrom other

flashes of lightning

pay homage to its

lit night.

humble as figments

of imagination.

cotton balm at the corners

of dream's eye,

chrysalis peel.

pictorial frenzy--outspread

imminent latence.

one wing too wide with color,

folded in two.

now flitting.

only riverbanks

are blindsided by

change.

worn away by

constancy, the mold

taken that can not

pass with passing.

left behind by what

will never be the same

again.

the clouds flowed, but the sky

did not move--the cars flowed,

but the bridge did not move.

the three burrough conjoining

bay's tides flowed--but the bay

did not move.

as i sat there i was subdivided by

what flowed, but did not move.

may you lift as smoke

through a tree canopy--

from a ring of stones.

enclosing a fire whose

purification run down to the

ground, is honored by The

Great Spirit.

the fates have been good enough

to fence off a garden of dust.

gathered together to look me in the

eye, with a magnetism of blind

attraction.

night covers that dust like charred skin,

as the sun glances his repelled blows.

the garden seems to plummet to its own

center of the earth, when a rose ***** her petals

upward from the choking maw.

grant me a space

to wander that'll

make the Himalayas

look like a series of

pebbles.

i tire of creating karma.

there are incredible

levels of devotion, that

make a spider web of

your bed--barring you

from sleep.

thought for thought for

thought in pull.

from the living and the dead.

This is 2012

8 years late,

ready to look

at math.

even though the greatest

artists of all time didn't

depict that Christ was impaled

at the wrists, rather than

his palms.

they didn't miss the central point.

every time

you think again,

a sweet nothing

tries to name you.

your name beckons

The Self, spat on with

a conjuring tongue.

versing words that

repeat on themselves.

till you're no longer in

the way of meaning.

how can obsessive

compulsivity dare

to speak of letting

go of illusion?

while watched by

a greater predictor?

things happen with

rigor mortis guards up.

iconic pictures

paint themselves,

as fools rush in.

Clytemenestra hurled

her grace, as Agamemnon

saw her net before it came.

She stabbing wildly thru

its grids into the blood of him.

a birthday wish

comes like two

hands together,

holding the flame.

blowing out what

will come of it yet

again.

until all birthdays

are celebrated at

once.

Small Brother

is dying too big

for lenses.

as connections

are growing

exponentially.

tormented by frames.