I practice *Being Peace*
out here by *The Artist Colony on Hood Canal*
collecting treasures and *Bright Dead Things*
the moon snail nesting in the *Flatland*  of my palm
a *Gift from the Sea* carried ashore
on *The Torrents of Spring*
it may take *A Thousand Mornings*
to attain a *Mind of Clear Light*
to transcend earthly *Crime and Punishment*
to consume knowledge hidden in the *Weathered Pages*
of this *Book of Luminous Things*
but I carry on - *Skinny Legs and All*
*Burning Daylight* street preaching 
*The Teachings of Don Juan*
"looking, looking breathlessly"
for internal coherence in this
*Brave New World*