ask yourself this...

while you become

the hypocritical that.

as always--to those

concerned, what power

drew your eyes to read

into these words?

what made them a doorway?

they mean something to you.

they want to show you some

kind of way, they're spatially

unchallenged when they look

dead in G*d's eyes

for your Self-sake.

the first and the last breed, breed

sons not of Man.

as women bear birth,

so they might feel for themselves.

these two hands wash the

blood out of water

to clarify nothing.

except...

the Word of their

mouth to dash across the

tongue of their drink,

ever parched.

only visions of water.

Jeshua too passed out and

in with the devil while

roaming.

~Aum Namah Shivaya~

I've crumbled your

letter and tossed it,
.
smoothed its stubborn

creases to place it at

the feet of Nataraja.

watched daylight live into

the folds while leaving

them at nightime.

my impulse is to destroy,

I've approached your

letter in that way many

a time.

I can't bring myself to

do it, and that tells me something out

of nothing--that I need to know.

but when I consign

it to flames it will be

forever.

a single soul come

together to face

the faceless face of

extinction.

the mind will dissolve

its flesh, to deny itself

the most glorious touch.

you took it

that far in, then

stepped back

out.

a clearing's only

a brilliant observation

point among chaotic

growth.

suddenly seen harmoniously.

you're doing

what you have

to do.

telling a man you'd

be there to wait

for him when he

comes home.

that your servitude

spills with anxiousness

to fulfill that end.

the temple door closes,

as it opens

behind Our eyes.

we serve each other.

as you wet with the

security of Home.

I've already entered,

and you've received me

spectacularly.

there's not a solitary

thing that can take

that away.

it's too free.

choices can blow

through hair enough

for shedding.

you're not doomed.

i've already lost my

ultimate gain,

it's about dying on

your feet.

the very last punch

line.

the fruit

that you've

taken inside

you grows.

what it bears

you will Know

for what it Is.

seasons don't

want to be

prominent

divisions, but

I'm walked thru

falling leaves.

a bore

hole in

a mountain's

a cave.

where yogis

forever dwell.

birds agree

on music,

the falling

trees in the

deads of

forests.

always silently

heard.

leave off

where life

wends--

ambled curve

where death

nears its perception.

you'll

never figure

in.

or out.

the samadhi

stone that water

flows blind thru.

washing its

Face.

i now build a

shrine of wilted

flowers cooking

over the moon.

icing light meets

its angled lightning--

how it falls on what Is.

love loves to be

left alone--

to pair marks indelibly.

concordant flow,

as to say my love.

materialized water.

named by.

this,

Now.

a strong man's loss

is a weak man's gain--

find the difference.

what persists...

how can light

betray itself
.
when it sees

the way?

you can't help

but stand for

yourself, crossways.

light wants to see once

and for all, we are its

exquisite balance--

though prior to it.

even if the image of an

Ocean were to submerge

its own image, the Ocean

would bob up again.

sometimes you wake to it--

when supreme stillness can

feel like the moment Dorothy's

house touched down.

after being ****** up into a

cyclonic dreamscape of menacing

sound given to music and

discordant image.

that moment when her bed hits

the ground and her pigtails flop--

where she rises and opens the

bedroom door to full color.

at birth the stone was

cast and glass went dark--

cursed to wander the sightless

terminus of his days.

a blind snake charmer filled

the holes of his flute with

fingers speedily entering their voids.

there was no more gravely

urgent sound to be heard, as

neighboring ears fell into his

lonely kingdom.

his Heart carried across from

the mountain road which he sat--

way down the valley.

he played from a featureless and

single point, that he would die for

at any moment.

which came across with every note,

what distance no foot could cover.

snakes would often beat themselves

to death on stones to dance away with

the melody that possessed them.

only when he lowered his flute and hung

his head, did he let tears fall down a

groundless ground.

the yogi

lives one

lifelong

moment

of

ingathering.

leaving

death

empty handed.

between Lazarus

hearing his name

to life--and holy men

washing their faces

with ash.

the river folds as it

flows, wider than the

world--narrower than

a needle.

what births the vow of

silence, as it sings the song

of ash thru the deafening

motions of images.

a kiss upon the forehead

and crown, roosting birds.

if i say I'm

dying to hold

you--do not

attend to any manner

of speech.

you've overcome

the life of me and

drew out its arms.

likewise i you.

there is only before

and after her--gone in

what the heart can not

demarcate.

as a spanless body of water won't

sign the alias of ocean, to point

to itself.

the ever presence of

life to the ever presence

of death.

full in full, nectar to the air

of a flower--whose beauty

terrifies by its resolve.

a single burst in the throes of joy, staying

that openness in a petaled world

of wilt.

her name every one named with

the sound of scent, in the sight of

color.

this bay-skied easel works

pastels off the frame, to a

baby's palette off the face

of the earth.

as a cooling breeze birds--

with the moving images

of birds not necessarily

in flight.

or in view just now.

the seagrass loosens the

tide as antennas in reception,

picking up on the shadowed

cavities of distant trees

whitening birds

trying to come in.

the smell of sea salt heavy

as a sacrificial animal, trailed

by imploding senses.

love roams starker

naked

with her every

candlelit thought

of him.

milky moon maiden

at loosest ends.

beams a riot of departing

sanity, and a longed

for scream.

firmly rooted to the perfect

mound of her clearing.

where went the

last

defense of life

given up, to

love with

That Love?

it feels very

much like she's

left our

company to

go searching for

the meaning

of what opened

her in such a way.

they take their liberties--

while looking your Mother in

your eyes.

they're entitled to this--

because they part themselves

from the crowd to proclaim

their presence alone can straighten

the crooked limbs of loneliness.

having watched what always passes--

lowering themselves into that salvific

flow.

coming up as a pinnacle washed over by  

reshaping clouds.

the aggregate tumble of shorn cycles--

saturating karmic dream sequence.

with the wide open eyes of a fish, The

Ocean rolling over them.

they tell you they love you, to set themselves free--

then tell you they set you free.

they take their liberties.

a foot's momentarily

emboldened

by its placement

into the Ocean.

the surface level illusion

of a walking distance.

it takes depth to reach

the horizon, perhaps

too much.

birds spend their lives searching

for the root of the sky.

they fall from the sky, only when

the sky pulls their root.

where blue clouds appear full of

their flight, all of their song.

for one final contrast.

a river does not balk when

surrendering to an Ocean--

it does not disavow its

forward motion.

it runs with what it means--

surrender.

it does not sidestep its promise.

there's too much singular force of

faith and surety.

when a sword's brandished,

it will always

reflect the light of mind.

come martyr or assassin--

beyond the sword's double edge.

all samurais Sleep.

helped to waking by liquid

meeting solid--though

something

volunteers absence for most

of the wetness.

too

clear about what's balancing

the rain of sound.

bone dry with what mercilessly

seeps in.

in a storm of

voices and veils--

Our consecrated

crux stands.

the mark of a

King is his ability

to stand alone in

the face of everything.

the very Heart of his

Queen.

Christed passion's

culled from air--

how breath becomes

vital.

I Am its writing on

the sky blue ceiling--

the span of her lungs,

(faithful prodigal).

lighting significant

eyes of meaning.

at her place of green

rest

she sat--

as she felt deities

stare thru her

she wept.

realizing she too

was one.

the way distance makes an object appear

large or small--this darkness appears

very large.

as messengers of unknowing stir being--

with fewer words of freshly cut flowers

from the future's garden.

there's a feeling of how a stone holds itself

together.

paralyzed by that hold, only blinking back

with the light of mind to offer signs of

sentience.

how hard it grows in its position, yet how

paradoxically lethal grows the softness of

its love.

can you feel the hooves that break

the ground of the alone?

that pounding pace strong enough

for freedom, can you feel it?

growing wild with the promise only

it can keep unto itself--held too close

for betrayal.

the manifest cut of the blackest stallion--

flanked with ocher by the sun it sets.

dearer than the life he runs for, and the

warring legs that lose their place in

manic motion.

their moment multitude plummets the

black stallion into his Heart--as the lay

of the land surrenders.

in the unblinking glass of his eyes,  

passing by and thru with clearest of

reflection--uncontainable bliss wets

down his jawbones.

his unbreakable neck refusing to allow

a head to turn that's cocked forth.

when Shiva sits

a pheonix rises

from the ashes...

with no two wings

about it.

the moon drove herself

into the Heart of the sun--

dead center to the shape

of light.

a flashing union to the whole

of the round--a moment's

negative space.

vivid beyond blindness.

the sky's Only for peeling

off layers...

just a blue spot the eyes

go cross while staring at.

there's blueness without

eyes.

they're eyes without blueness.

as she tends to her G*d-wound.

one Heart

and the whole of time--

has occasioned the

saying of such things:

the word of her name

of her essence--

the word of his name

of his essence.

made

one Heart.

lovers in the mean of hands--

joined in compounding tides,

ease her anthos in opening

hail.

she moans the movements of

signs in stars, as she traces her

birth charts all over his body.

he breathes burning darkness

into her ear, as she shakes with

the safety of the place no one will

find her but him.

as unsparing as glass hung to mirror is--

in the cold cast monologue of eyes,

the faces of years never purveyed

true reflection.

so there is no preparing to meet it

in another's eyes who see themselves,

as you see yourself for the first time.

whereupon the light of day clears its

space overhung with veils, exposing

those eyes.

momentarily struck dead by the force

of their essential seeing--what played

haunted host to the lighting  of a

lifetime.

suddenly stares back--one sees one's

reflection, a shock only Love can absorb.

the cicadas know where the wind

went that quit my window--their

branches refuse to conduct.

yet their cadence remains perfected.

singing the wind's futureless window

under a summer sun, is not a punishable

offense.

it's the application of sound to the sense

of some perception, steadily building...

till marooned.

stay with me a moment--

I've need of your vigilance,

we've taken turns keeping

watch round the fire forever,

as the other slept.

now we must both stay awake--

to let the Long Night sleep, witness

the end of our search.

we fill with peril in the passion of

that end, as one line crossed two ways

towards one another.

where now every moment's day spawns

worlds that cut sharply to your absence...

echoing ****** births in the call of your name.

i rinse off the blood of that desolation to feel

your presence, with such ritual care--that One

Day you'll take hold of my hands as if to say:

enough my love...I'm here.

death oversleeps its own

repose...to energize the

next life-dream.

whose time come early rises.

all in the name of seeing

The Original Face.

before having both name

and face.

What is it, she the moon has taken

unto herself--as the night rushes to

conclusions?

When she's put to the brute black wall--

she's found unnerving, because she

doesn't betray what eats her alive.

How many phased confessions of the

sun has she internalized?

What has that done to her over time's

time--the skittish chalkiness of bearing

what has refused to leave her?

There's not a creeping creature, or

movement of water that's not imbued

with what she sits with.

In lieu of her sacrifice, as freedom begins

to bitter in the mouths of those who've

tasted it--it will only begin to sweeten in

hers.

When she'll finally speak her Heart.

the temple is up, hounded by

sleeplessness--as bodies of dust

move thru one another, and

will not settle.

a rose lie in a space of offering,

pacing her folds--as there is love

to be had.

lapis lazuli twilight, striated with

purple harbingers of lovers afoot.

impassioned in their unrest, they

know there is another in the distance

of the life that lives them.

to enfold with, secure and brace for the

aggressive fade--where this dream's undreamt.

her haunts still rain the pindrop

turnings of their recesses--

where no wind could wrest her

words to solitude.

her throat raising sounds rapt in

the beginnings of song--the flight

patterns of birds upon a sky's

private screening.

she softly traded hands upon her

throat, her fingertips tickled by

the meaning of everywhere at once.

with everywhere in mind, she took

her time with every little thing, carrying

its note.

now her song is building to the point--

ears may be struck deaf by a silence

that was indeed golden.

at even-ing I slid down from a boulder

into her

world, just as the bay began tinting

movements more lithe than water.

what was high of her tide reached out

as a dark wayside, arresting its

ongoing flood of beat-back ripples.

it was there I wanted to take some

kind of lasting hold of her living

waters.

internally covet a piece of her flow--

manifest perfect memory at will.

I was carried off, in sounds of wetness

and I floated the same as I drowned--

she was everywhere.

all I could do was slide down, and

know there can be nothing taken

away from experience--but the

breadth of her love.

it's been left to Us, what stayed

under Our eyes--as this world in

count foregone.

where's the charioteer swept away

by Our coitus, He weeps for the

colorless and scentless petals that

we consummate our love upon.

we will never again die alone...Our

Union will remain upon letting go,

no more a wilting form cut by the slash

of the mouth bereft of breath.

we breathe the breathless breath into one

an other my love...keep me, as I keep you.

a lion in a sandstorm--

granulated wind, the

blood-born scratch of

an empty belly.

the joint voices of lost

directions roar!

the sound of moment

homes in a forsaken

wilderness.

even and uneven dunes--

broken hourglass pelt

against his

imposing scowl.

as he tears through the

barren sides of scorned

pride--lain to exhaust the

king of him.

his fours may be downed,

and indefinitely stilled--

but the love that needed

fierce protection will never

be pried from his chest.

as starlings weigh down the scale

of a single sleep, darkened boughs

raise the opposing scale of wakefulness.

to the moon, who reverentially presses her

forehead to the balance--blessing the fragile

and slow motion of gossamer grids.

more still, the mind of a man that she is...

forest stalking forest, in the gentle lave of

her milk.

she is on his lips, as he tells the leaves he

knows they'll change--but her love will not.

his frame could not be more sturdy nor tender,

as he takes to the ground--and a love the worth

of death's wage comes to life.

the strident cord snapped--

moon's pale fount wet with

the sun's all things stillness,

seen to their let be.

crowned dome arrayed--

Shakti freed from space, melts

as the blackened seal over the

pre-post natal rift.

final flash-pan white light entelechy.

she can be heard singing the sob

of freedom, taking step of the gyre

precipice of Shiva's chest.

her involute foot--struck by Aum...

as she's survived by her ******.