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Dec 2020 · 88
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2020
Life is wood
and then
the sky
Nov 2020 · 92
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2020
in light
of flowers
mi'ku is a minimalist form.
Nov 2020 · 209
/Some folks say
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2020
Some folks say
that other folks
get their opinions
from the media.
They can be right.

Other folks say
that some folks
get their opinions
from psychics
and mediums.
They can be right.

Some other folks
have their own minds
and use them.
Their opinions
can be right too.
Nov 2020 · 216
/Lotus Song
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2020
Om-mani birds
hold back the night
Om mani padme hum

Old nun bee Padme-hum
she waggles to the lotus song
Om mani padme hum

Om Metteyya
Om Maitreya
Om mani padme hum

This poem, Lotus Song, reflects on my lifetimes as a Buddhist. There is a Buddhist mantra, a kind of meditative and spiritually meaningful chant: This quintessential utterance, Om mani padme hum, is considered to encapsulate all of the wisdom of Buddhism. Om is a sacred sound expressing holiness. Mani means jewel, Padme is the lotus flower, and Hum represents the sprit of enlightenment. There are many interpretations and significances but this is the simplicity of it.

In this poem the first two words "Om mani" are used as the name of a sacred bird. The last two words of the mantra, "Padme hum" are taken to name a bee.

And waggle, a curious word to use here, is the actual technical term used in describing the dance of the bee upon returning to the hive to communicate the path to the source of pollen: Spiritually, the road to enlightenment.

Metteyya and Maitreya have the same meaning, essentially "friend" in two languages (Metteyya in Pali, the ancient language spoken by Lord Buddha, and Maitreya in Sanskrit). They refer to the prophesy that an enlightened being will come to complete the work begun by Lord Buddha.

ॐ at the end of the poem is the Sanskrit symbol for Om.
Nov 2020 · 76
/à l'envers
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2020
I rise from my body
My fall à l'envers
Through cold brilliant sunlight
And thinness of air

Past floating ions
Into almost bare space
And I shift my gaze back
And I wish for your face

I'll one day return
With the wind in my hair
Some bright afternoon
And all devil-may-care

With the kiss I'm left owing
Until it is paid
With our love I left holding
When I fell away
à l'envers is French for upside down or wrong way to. It is pronounced a bit like "ah lon vair". The s is silent.
Oct 2020 · 29
/Ideal Orgs
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2020
Whatever else this Earth has been
Wherefrom we step, torchlights streaming
Fore and aft into the dark and storm of night

We are Cause
We are Decision
We are Scientologists

And welcome all shoulders to the wheel—
Your strength with ours
Pan-determined, undeterred

We are builders, keepers of Ideal Orgs
Sanctuaries of hope and light and beauty
Wisdom and prophecy

As the wheel turns
The universe turns
And the universe bends its knee

Whatever else this Earth has been
Whatever else this Earth will be
This is the postulate
"Ideal Org" means something. Short for organization, "Org" is used by Scientologists to refer to Churches of Scientology. "Ideal" because they are created and organized to embody the spirit and technology of Scientology. A "postulate" is a decision, a causative thought.
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2020
His light,
     A blossom and a humble bee—
     So proffers God
     That All may see.

Gardens bloom
     And earthworms sing.
     God calls each name
     And seasons' turn.

His light,
     A blossom and a humble bee—
     So proffers God
     That All may see.
Aug 2020 · 152
/Young Wm.
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2020
The point is, young Wm., you have no ticket
to the pantheon. Earned it? Yes. But in leaving
left the scrip behind; compared yourself
to erstwhile selves and having fallen thus
go now unbidden. Whilst you, young Wm., hailed
Lo! A fraud! A thief! or by some lower
hellish frame have learned that crueler hells
no doubt exist though like the pantheon
as hard to find. The point is, young Wm., you
have no ticket to the pantheon. Get on with it!
Jul 2020 · 602
/Hello for the earth
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2020
Hello for the earth
Hello for the moon
Hello from the sky
Hello from a room

Hello my new friend
Hello little brown bird

Hello trees
Hello clouds
Hello thoughts
Hello words

Hello joy
Hello breeze
Hello life
Hello me

Hello all that I see
Hello you
Jun 2020 · 112
Kevin J Taylor Jun 2020
Dark and hurried skies, forewarning end to all as sure as night the day; bodies heaped, bone to dust, ash of fallen prayer amounting in still, now silent ruins.

Beings of abandoned cause, broken, dulled, awaiting eagles sent, gone a thousand years, here now returned; floating down a thousand skies to tell the way.

From ever endless skies, shall we, at our arrival, our return, rejoicing, ask wisely (O so wisely), “Who knew?” and know and laugh again?
Jun 2020 · 890
Kevin J Taylor Jun 2020
Is not withdrawal
Peace is the surge
The urge
Peace is arising
It's an overflowing
Swing of
Turned-up rhythm
Peace is resurgence
Peace is expression
In and of
Common Purpose
Cresting waves
Of purpose
Upon a new dynamic line
Peace is
Not withdrawal from life
Peace is not placid
Not flaccid
Peace is active
Peace is believed
Peace is for
And not against
Peace just is
And you are its source
And I am its source
And we are its source
Reaching from and for and to
Every searching soul
Peace is strength
Of integrity
Peace is faith
Is living anyway

Peace is yours
Peace is ready now
Jun 2020 · 87
Kevin J Taylor Jun 2020
“But Lord Mother!” young Yahweh cries,
“It is all downhill to the mountaintops.
              And all downhill from there.”
Jun 2020 · 184
/The lie
Kevin J Taylor Jun 2020
The lie's
the limit.
Sep 2019 · 420
/Cataclysm (revisited)
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2019
they fought us back / we fought them down / on in the air / in on the ground / millennia / millennia / we carry on

from thundercloud / we fleet as rain / clapping corrugated tin / rising from the sea again / rising silently again

under dark assembled things / assembling / assembling / broken straws / severed wings / in all the ground a war of things / too late / we carry on

This poem was originally written with a couple of f-bombs in place of "fought" but in order to make it more accessible to a wider group of readers I've created this version. The other one is on this page somewhere.
Apr 2019 · 870
/After Frost
Kevin J Taylor Apr 2019
It's snowing
Crows racing, caw-calling
Old hemlocks waiting
Apr 2019 · 512
/Break my heart
Kevin J Taylor Apr 2019
Break my heart
Break my back
Waste my time
Bend my path

Do your best

I bring Freedom
Mar 2019 · 877
/Surgeon’s pride
Kevin J Taylor Mar 2019
no saws
no taxidermied limbs
to swell the surgeon’s pride
none seen behind the gleam
and paint
no gangrene
no ether
red bags
and waiting
uncleaned body trays

today the sun rises
Feb 2019 · 6.1k
Kevin J Taylor Feb 2019
Don't beat me with your logic sticks
It ain't that I can't take the licks
My skin is thick, as thick as bricks
It's just I've had my fill of it

          We'll beat you when you're up
          No, we'll beat you when you're down
          No, we'll beat you when you're up again
          And beat you when you're down

René Descartes rests headless in his tomb
Cogito ergo—ergo whom?
Don't beat me with your logic sticks
Fidem! ergo sum


Don't care what makes your logic tick
It ain't that I can't take the licks
Don't know where your logic's been
Logic gets around


Don't beat me with your logic sticks
My skin is thick, as thick as bricks
It ain’t that I can’t take the licks
This is a song lyric.
Feb 2019 · 3.7k
/Vox Rhianna
Kevin J Taylor Feb 2019
Beauty without increment
(Instrument, implement)

A single breath

In spiritum unum
(Indivisibilis, invictus)
In spiritum unum = In one breath
Indivisibilis, invictus = indivisible, undefeated
Jan 2019 · 3.9k
Kevin J Taylor Jan 2019
"Don't be silly, Dad, I'm your only daughter."

"Yes. But you'd still be my favorite even if you had a dozen sisters and as many brothers."

"And your mother is my favorite wife."

"Oh Dad, you only have one."

"... At a time. And anyway, she would still be my favorite even if those other wives were favorites too, if I loved them all as much as you."
Jan 2019 · 7.6k
/The Photograph
Kevin J Taylor Jan 2019
The photograph hangs on the wall by the window,
Three judges appear (one carries a folder)—
A tarot card reader, embalmer, engraver,
Without much to say and not much of it said
About the boot in the crib and the tire in the bed
The round faced man and the *** on his head
Painted with flowers and chipped on its edge.
And the cat near the door with its collar and bell
Flailing and airborne and mid caterwaul.
And the three-leggèd dog with her leash on
And sweater, jubilant, leaping— Mon Dieu! Grand jeté!
And the crow— O the crow! In its cage cawing “Fire!”
The crow crowing “Mayhem!” and “****** most foul!”
The dog and the cat and the crow and the tire
The cage and the crib, the *** painted in flowers;
All in a frame with a sign alongside—
“Self portrait. Around the Ides of July.”
A ribbon is clipped and then hung for its owner.
It bears the word “Mention” and then the engraver
Makes a note on a form he hands to the embalmer.
The tarot card reader turns— She and her hat,
And addresses the room, “Ain't no card made for that.”
An ekphrastic poem.
Jan 2019 · 262
/write read hear say
Kevin J Taylor Jan 2019
I don't want to write
what I don't want you to read

I don't want you to hear
what you don't want me to say
Dec 2018 · 783
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2018
It seems the walls that block my vision
were once my wishes, my decisions.

Lives seem built upon themselves and where
we are, who knows which floor? How high above,
how far below, how many more?

And every ceiling thwarts ascent—
each one a floor auparavant.
Auparavant: a French word meaning "previously".
Dec 2018 · 1.2k
/Homage to Ogden Nash
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2018
I love to eat with just a spoon: soups, puddings too, if there is room. I love to eat with forks and knives while dining in with friends and wives. I love to eat with little sticks, especially the tricky bits. But most of all with hands and fingers or any things where flavors lingers.
Nov 2018 · 72
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2018
What color is your heart?
What faith bleeds some other red?
What color is my heart to you?
What colors fill your world?
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2018
When I see flowers I pass them by.
And lovers, I avert my eyes.
Laughter makes me turn and walk the other way.

When I hear music I've got no place to go.
No place to hide. No quiet place to lie.
When I hear music I just close my eyes and cry.

It might as well be yesterday. Today is just the same.
Every morning lies and says I've come alive again,
That I'm not dying.

It might as well be yesterday.
Might just as well be yesterday,
Nov 2018 · 190
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2018
slep in starwells
slep undr carnivaltrucks
slep in parkinlots cornr

8 month old ry bred
dogfood wetdry
insecs bigmacs


spare a dime
show me yr change
all show u mine
A poem I wrote a VERY long time ago about what it was like being homeless.
Nov 2018 · 1.4k
/Lie between us
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2018
On a blanket on a wooden floor
Abandoned articles of war
Lie between us
And that future left behind
Nov 2018 · 293
/Body Game
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2018

Apr 2018 · 3.8k
/As ye love
Kevin J Taylor Apr 2018
Do not the mothers and the fathers
of Islam love their daughters, love
their sons, love the children as ye love?
Dec 2017 · 90
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2017
You said, “I don’t.”
I said, “I do.”
You said, “I won’t.”
I did for you.
You said, “I can’t.”
I could, and did.
You said, “I need.”
I did not give.
Perhaps, when all
Is said, we fail
To understand
What love entails.
Dec 2017 · 472
/Peace Be
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2017
Peace last night.
Snow. White.
Nov 2017 · 2.5k
/main street underworld
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2017
belts hung with trampled halos
trammeled  souls
t-shirts taunting— PROPERTY OF HIM
Nov 2017 · 7.8k
/I don't care
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2017
I don't care who your god is
        It's alright who your god is
I don't care how you pray
        It's alright
All I care is where my heart is
        Here. Here my heart is
What I do with it today
Nov 2017 · 50
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2017
Practice keeps me perfect.
Now you say it.
Say it again.
Oct 2017 · 238
/Tears in our eyes
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2017
It is hard to wash windows
with tears in my eyes
with tears in your eyes
Washing windows? Because I am a storefront window cleaner which pays the bills. We had angry words with each other the night before.
Oct 2017 · 11.7k
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2017
Still here, my friend, not much to tell.
Winter came, wearied, went.
Spring—hurried skies, or sun or rain.
Hot summer days, hot sleepless nights.
Fall was fresher, raked what fell.
Another year. Mostly well.
Oct 2017 · 11.7k
/The Hateful Man
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2017
Let each hate, and ours for his,
Be scraped away. Hopefully
He cared for some— At least the few
That may have cared for him.

Allow unchanged what good remains.
At length, with love or hate or both,
We go. In time, some with pause
And some without, return.
Oct 2017 · 1.3k
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2017
Begin with faith
Beyond belief
Faith is

Begin with hope
Hope is the point
Rekindle hope

Begin with love
Love in all
Love anyway

Begin with self
You, your universe
Made well
Sep 2017 · 1.9k
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
The only good bedbug is a dead bedbug.
The only bedbug worse than a live bedbug
is a fed bedbug, notwithstanding the
fedded, bedded & newlywedded bedbugs
which tend to copulate & propagate across
rolling great reclining plains, trailing baby
bug bedbugs to carry on their game and with
no attention to the names we call them either.
Sep 2017 · 2.1k
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
I have not come, he says,
to defend God,
but to offend sinners.

Looks straight at me—
I am everyone.
Sep 2017 · 2.7k
/Thirsty lips...
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
Thirsty lips
Sep 2017 · 1.7k
/Broken bowls
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
The road is littered
with broken bowls and buddhas
flung in bits from cliffs
Sep 2017 · 1.7k
/Joy of Acknowledgement
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017

bowng b boawng


Hey ng ng-ng b-ba-wnng Hey!

HeyowngHeyboangdeclick (SHiNGHey!)
Heyang-b-bang-c-dlick bongHey!
Aug 2017 · 11.2k
/One Cat, Maybe Two
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2017
Raymond shifted his weight forward on the coffee
shop chair and leaned his cheekbone into the heel of
his palm. A childhood verse chided him in his
mother’s voice of over fifty years ago.

“Raymond, Raymond, if you’re able,
get your elbows off the table.
This is not a horse’s stable,
but your mother’s dining table.”

It didn’t immediately connect to any
pictures in his mind but he had heard it enough
to know it was real. An hour ago he had been
at his mother’s side in the palliative care ward.

She had appeared smaller than he liked to think of
her—had looked almost like he was seeing her at
a distance. She hadn’t greeted him, only closed
her eyes and said, “Feed the cats, will you.” It wasn’t

really a question. “Yes,” he answered, but the cats,
whoever they were, must have left or died years ago.
The only living thing she owned, he suspected,
was the small Christmas cactus someone had brought to

cheer her up. He looked at her again, waiting for
her eyes to open. They never did. Her jaw dropped
and that was that. Raymond hadn’t wanted to be
in the room when the nurses and orderly would

come to take her away. He stopped at the reception
desk to say that he’d be in the coffee shop
waiting for his brother and sister-in-law to
arrive. They were late and he was thankful to have

a few minutes to himself. From where he sat he
faced the open entrance of the café. There was
a couple sitting tiredly off to one side.
A man in a shapeless blue hospital gown and

slippers shuffled in pushing an IV pole ahead
of him. Raymond heard steps echo sharply down
the hallway. Here they are, he thought, hurrying
needlessly. Bill and Marijke had been fast asleep

at 2:30 am when Raymond’s first text message
came in. They never saw it until 5:00 when Bill
reached for his cell phone as he did every morning
right after Marijke turned off the alarm. “****,”

he said, “No time.” Bill, “William” on his realtor
business card, and Marijke, were used to demands
on their time from potential home buyers. But they
usually had early mornings to themselves—

breakfast, coffee, catch up on current events. Not
today. The text had said, “ASAP.” They hit the drive-
through at Starbucks on their way to the hospital.
“Hey Bill. Marijke,” Raymond said. Bill nodded. “Hey,”

he replied and paused to look at Raymond, to see
if he’d say something else, “Is she gone?” “Couple of
hours ago,” Raymond said. “Should we see her?” Bill asked.
“Can if you want, I suppose. Maybe later,"

Raymond said, "Did she have a cat? She mentioned cats.
I haven’t seen any for years. Did you take them?”
Mother might have mixed him up with Bill again.
Raymond looked at his brother who didn’t seem to

be listening and then at Marijke. "She used to
feed the neighborhood cats before she broke her hip,”
Marijke said. “That might be it.” It seemed odd that
Marijke knew more about his mother’s life than

her sons did. “Maybe you’re right,” Raymond said. “What’s next?”
“I’ll call her lawyer and get him on it,” Bill answered.
Raymond suddenly realized that his brother
had been listening. Marijke started to cry. 
Raymond pulled some napkins from their holder and pressed
them hard against his eyes. Bill looked down and away.
Over the next few days life seemed to stop. Nothing
more than daily routines and only as long as

they didn’t require much effort or attention.
Coffee, whatever was in the fridge—dishes sat in
the sink. Gradually he began to feel alive
again. It was as though he had been wrapped in blankets,

hearing distant, mostly muffled voices, glimpsing
unfamiliar rooms and spaces when he closed his
eyes to sleep. Marijke had startled him this morning
when she called and said to the answering machine that

Bill and she were coming over with something from
the lawyer and hoped he would be in. She didn’t
wait for him to pick up. She’d have known he was at
the kitchen table. They arrived mid-afternoon.

No knock at the door. Bill was the older of the
two and was the most like their dad. And Dad had not
been the knocking sort. Not with Raymond anyway.
Bill and Marijke each carried a bag of groceries

which they placed on the kitchen counter. “Thought you might
need some things,” Marijke said. “Nice to see you, Ray.”
She took a bag of groceries and made room in the
fridge for its contents: milk, BBQ chicken and

eggs. She placed the bananas in a wooden bowl.
“Saw the lawyer yesterday,” Bill started. “He has
the will but it doesn’t amount to much except
for the house,” he paused, “The equity has mostly

been ****** out of it. God knows what for. And there’s this…”
Bill dropped a large manila envelope in front
of Raymond. “I’ve already opened it. There’s an
envelope for each of us in there. Marijke

says we should open them together because we’re
all the family we have now.” He tipped the envelope
on its end and let the two smaller envelopes
slip out. One each for William and Raymond. Bill picked

his up and tore the corner of the flap destroying
most of the envelope in the process and
extracted what appeared to be several sheets of
neat handwriting. “It’s just a letter,” Bill said. He

put it into the inside breast pocket of his
suit jacket. Raymond waited a moment then picked
up the other envelope, turned it over and nodded
almost imperceptibly. He stood, walked to the

shelf between the window and the back door where he
had made room for the Christmas cactus instead of
leaving it behind. Not sure about the light, he
thought, and leaned the unopened letter against the

earthenware ***. “Not you, too?” Marijke shook her
head. “It’ll be like…” Raymond said, he paused, looking
at her, “It’ll be like not hanging up the phone.”
Marijke understood—he’d never open it.

“I get it,” she said in a softer tone. Bill looked
blankly at his brother. And Raymond smiled a little
for the first time in a while. By six the next
morning Raymond was already dressed and brewing

coffee. Usually he would head down to Timmy’s
Donut Shop for his caffeine fix. “Double trouble,”
he’d say, meaning “Double double,” as he always
did at Timmy’s. It amused him and often made

his favorite server smile. “Too much trouble, you mean,”
she’d say. Human contact. Raymond guessed that some of
the guys at the corner table would be wondering
how he was doing. They’d know what had happened, of

course, but they’d ask just the same. He poured his first cup
and walked out onto the back porch. Still a bit cool
out here, he thought as he leaned against the railing,
sipping his coffee as his eyes wandered around

the yard. He’d have another cup in a while but
first he had something he needed to do. Raymond
sat down on the porch steps and slipped his feet into
an old pair of shoes. He tied them and flicked the loops

with his finger to see how the laces fell, to
make sure he had not tied them backwards and would not
work their way loose. Someone had taught him that a long
time ago when they had seen his laces come undone.

He stood up and walked across the yard to the back
lane and the narrow picket fence, missing a picket
here and there and much of its original coat
of white paint. Some boys had probably pulled the missing

pickets off decades ago and with galvanized
garbage can lids for shields spent a Saturday
morning sword fighting. The gate was leaning and half
open, held there by uncut grass, weeds and neglect.

He stepped out and onto the lane that led between
the two rows of houses that backed onto it. Raymond
looked at each fence, each set of stairs and window as
he passed them by. A block later he turned and headed

home satisfied that he had seen at least one cat,
maybe two. Another cup of coffee in hand,
Raymond sat on the top step. On his way out of
the kitchen and onto the porch he had stopped to

turn the cactus in the morning light, stepped outside
placing a saucer of fresh milk by the porch door,
and sat down.

Aug 2017 · 9.1k
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2017
Keep calm.
What doesn't **** you
Just takes longer.
Aug 2017 · 400
/If Love Exists
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2017
Love! Love early, long and more than any human heart can hold—
Full souled! First, last and freshly found.
Love in All. Love All in All.
By these words, if Love exists, Love All.
Jul 2017 · 749
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
If, for example, we die (and I've heard otherwise).
Not if but when, I’ve heard.
I would argue (suggest)
There is no truer when than now.
We live unless (until) we say we die.

And only then if I agree
And we agree
And others too
And once agreed
Must not be spoken of
(Which, all said, appears
To be the dyingness).

Living, living now, and thus—
If (when) we’ll agree amongst ourselves—
L’chaim! (pronounced luh-khah-yim) a Hebrew toast. Literally— To life!
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
The first poem takes place during the lifetime of Lord Buddha.

The second poem follows in the years soon after Lord Buddha left his body.

The third poem is the mind of the boy (the spirit of the boy in the first poem) in restless meditation. He has yet to attain full enlightenment. There are multiple voices suggested by parentheses and which are whispered words. If you prefer linear thought or literal interpretation this poem may not communicate to you. Just as a painting may be abstract, this poem is wide open to your own connections, thoughts and emotions. If you like, you can skip to the fourth poem.

The fourth poem, in three lines, lies within this portion of eternity that is forever present time.

Boy runner (the first poem)
Approaching Siddhartha where he sat a
boy examined him politely (this-that?)
Siddhartha spoke and there the unnamed boy
who sitting a while with him that day thought
and over the days ahead returned and
leaving only for food, drink and service
that Siddhartha would not be distracted
from his goal until upon returning
he saw him glowing in the morning light
and so began to dance with him beneath
the tree. A leaf was shed, was gathered then
and the boy, who while tucking it away,
Siddhartha asked if he would run for him
to village, crossroads, field, grove, wherever
Siddhartha wished to speak. And so he ran,
and soon arriving, announcing thus his
coming, holding high the leaf he carried
and which had never died, living— living
green until Lord Buddha left his body.

Depths of Green (the second poem)
Depths of green—from canopy to forest floor
In streams of raucous livingness
And there, and where about, a sanctuary
Falls in heaps, in stone walls run aground.

And with, nearby, afar, by ins and outs
Through every place (perceived)
Wherever listened for—vibration.

A single voice in Pali—a single voice
Leaping, leading, dancing, sweeping.

Hello. You greet me.

And if I split myself and stand (the third poem)
And if I split myself and stand
At every corner of said universe
On any selfsame summer day
With any selfsame afternoon rain
Will this, though thought, slip
Where densities of interest fail
(Or by failures to perceive )

This leaf-boy-runner
Eight portions of beingness
The full and fill of prime creation
(Perhaps where life has paused
Or slowed enough to perceive
At any speed

The speed of perception
The true speed of light
The wavelengths of laughter
And of any thing )

While density shifts
Where inertia has failed

(The density of my interest
The shift of my affinity )

There is no doubt
It has velocity
It gives back light
It bends the universe
It has location
From which expands
All space
Not already filled
With the logic of otherness
And even there it bends— It wills

As (my breadth of vision )
A torrent
An avalanche
A fissure in nothingness
A co-creation of All
This theatre
Our audience
Of stelae
Beacons of lostness
In search of wavelengths
Of affinity
Where you might
Where I have
The curves beneath our frequencies
The pitch and roll of their design
Their width

(We have
Each other )

In all that vastness
An ordinary leaf
From this
For that
(I am )

The breathless

Cool in the shade (the fourth poem)
Cool in the shade
(still) dancing
with Lord Buddha
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
I was walking down the road
Just as happy as can be
And all the leaves upon the trees
Were waving back at me

I saw a curly snail
As he stretched to greet his day
Then headed down the road with me
Then stopped to stretch again

I saw a pretty sparrow
She was perched upon a wire
She sang a song—I sang along
We made a lovely choir

The snail conducted from a twig—
Just so, our song began
“Happy Birthday to You!”
Did you hear us as we sang?

We had a happy party
As we danced around—We three!
And we wished you Happy Birthday!
Just as HAPPY as can be!
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