Poetry books

---

"The Madness of the Crowd and Other Popular Delusions"

The crowd is always prone to madness

Since reaction as a herd in danger

Demands conformity without reason.

The fact we live in a time of madness

Is nothing new or unusual,

Relative Reality after all being

Merely a conspiracy of relatives.

But sometimes it seems it’s all now extra crazy

As traditional boundaries break down

And everyone is free to think and say

And increasingly do whatever they want.

The ascendency of gender dysphoria

And acceptance, even celebration

Of the mutilation of children

Being a case in point.

But the fact is, we live in a world of illusion

Which the madness and delusions of the crowd

Is merely attempting to adapt to,

As all our perceptions and thoughts filter through

A mind which can do no other than interpret and distort.

These are the tools we are given,

A mind and body hardwired to survive

In a world of illusion, thus adapted

To the point of expertise with spinning illusions.

It’s not our fault, but instead our destiny

To find a way through

Out of the Cave of Unknowing

Into the Space

Of a Land Before Time.

(2025, GW)

"Gratitude"

In a world of worries

There are always complex problems

And simple solutions.

So easily our habits spin us

Into dizzying heights and depths

Our minds left seeking ways down and out.

When instead all we need do

To find a way through

Is see it with a breath of gratitude.

(2025, GW)

"The Heart of the Matter"

What is it that really matters?

Is it finding the answers to the big questions,

- finding our place in the cosmology of it all - 

Or is it something else entirely,

Something more personal and immediate,

Something of the heart and not the head?

I’ll leave it at that.

(2025, GW)

"I Love Life"

People worry about this and that

the petty things of religion and politics

forgetting what it is all based on.

But it isn't about what we believe or want,

or anything else that can divide.

It is about what is at the core,

at the base, the fundamental ground.

And that is Life - and also love.

If you're not loving life

then you're abusing love.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Undoing The Ties That Bind"

Moments tasted within

the gaps

between moments

undo the ties that bind.

Bit by bit we settle and rest

setting off little avalanches

of undoing

unraveling the links

of a mind-chain

it has taken an eternity to forge.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Round and Round"

Beyond the cave of unknowing

the space of primordial wisdom

is without entrance or exit,

as such, even to say, “It is.”

misses the mark

and serves no purpose

but to put us once again,

back in the cave of unknowing.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Out of Time, Out of Mind"

Doing random is difficult.

Anyone who has tried to be natural knows 

what deception that is.

And so I mow the arboretum

letting the ground determine the pattern,

without thought, without mind,

delighting in the discovery of random,

caught up in making circles.

Out of time, out of mind.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Dewdrops"

Corruption’s gate the many swallows

Few at all can pass the test

The time for preaching is at midnight

When the dream stirs in your breast.

But at the dawn when we awaken

What is then that need be said

As day returns in simple wonder

All as one we break the bread.

And from the sky a rain of blessings

Gods and demons join the feast

To eat with joy the heart of sunrise

And as light to find release.

And so it ends right where it started

Melted by Old Sun’s embrace

All our efforts now all exhausted

Vanish there and leave no trace.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Nonmeditation"

Watch the mind

not like a cat sits

watching for mice,

but how a child lays 

gazing into the open sky

as cloud-trains pass.

Simply watch the mind,

and eventually it will invite you in

to meet the family.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"A Man of No Rank"

A man of no rank

is free to come and go.

Excluded from the councils of power,

he is not burdened 

by the worries of the world.

Like a wild beast 

he is ruled by the changing seasons,

and not the changing favor

of the court of public opinion.

Like a wild animal

he is alert to the danger of social intrigue,

preferring the talk of birds

and murmur of brooks

to the gossip and lectures of humankind.

Everywhere he goes

No matter it high or low

There is the dharma.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"The Bucket List"

Kuntuzangpo Shining Now!

chant the natives, 

restless, hungry, dark and burning,

blazing more like – 

like the fires at the end of time,

with thrashing arms, pounding drums, 

glaring red eyes

and moist, snarling, smacking lips.

Kuntuzangpo Shining Now!

hopping about their beach in unison

hopping because they have no feet, no legs,

just a single three-sided triangular iron blade

below their snake-entwined waists.

Kuntuzangpo Shining Now! 

Indeed.

“Honey, better take the kids inside,

I’ve got this.”

What a way to complete the bucket list.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Persian Rug Porn"

Cut loose, cast adrift

from all I set out to accomplish.

Thrown to the other shore

by a stream I was sure would carry me to the sea.

Stranded at the source

words replaced thought, images replaced word

to leave me speechless

mind agape

transfixed to glossy page after page

of color and pattern, wholeness and detail, 

art and craft manifest

in perfect balance on warp and weft.

A beautiful obsession, from ideal to actual,

a literal magic carpet ride

to a figurative land before time

a land of light, and space, 

barren hills

and broken hearts, 

sheep and wool, plant and dye, 

ceaseless wanderings and flights in the night.

A land of my dreams and conception

(there on the carpet as my parents lay)

a carpet beckoning and enticing

to stay and rest awhile, caress and stare 

without inhibition

at the sheer beauty 

only a fellow nomad could conceive

for the solace of another world weary soul.

(2022,  OOTOOM)

"Untitled"

I was closer to my father

or so I thought.

But I now

miss my mother more,

and the only explanation I have

is he was more knowable

and she more vast.

(2022, OOTOOM)

"Nature Nurture Individuality"

Only those blinded by faith

can't see that our lives are determined by an equal measure

of nature and nurture

sifted through the filter of individual choice.

The fact achievement gaps exist between people,

sexes and races specifically,

simply means people are different

different in how we are raised (nurture)

what potential we're born with (nature)

and how we deal with these two (individuality).

But the fact remains there will be differences

and so always a gap between what we are and may wish.

Those blinded by faith will never accept this simple fact

and so blame those who have

for being oppressors of those who haven’t.

This denial of nature

strains civility by introducing hope where there is none.

Instead of celebrating our diversity (individuality!)

and expanding inclusivity to mean everything just the way it is,

the faithful wish and pray, hope, hate and protest for the day

when finally we are all truly equal

somehow forgetting 

that's not the day we're born, but

the one we die.

(2021, ETE)

 "My Job"  

Christians speak of Original Sin and  

Buddhists of Primordial Ignorance  

obscuring our Original Nature -  

primordially pure, radiantly clear, lucidly awake.  

My body and my mind know nothing   

of this nature,  

since their habits are otherwise, 

without the blessing of lineage to point out  

there is something more than sin and ignorance,  

something those two continually defile and ignore. 

My body and mind are ignorant, 

but that’s just the illusion they prefer.  

My job is to train them otherwise.  

(2021, ETE)

"Extracting the Essence"

When a honey bee makes honey

first she has to extract the nectar

flying about between various flowers 

sipping their sweet juices

until her stomach is full.

Then it’s back to the hive

to add her tiny drop to a wax comb cell her sisters have drawn 

and then off again, to fill again,

over and over until the cells are full.

And then the bees let it rest

(as they work on tirelessly to make and fill more comb).

And left to just sit, the partially digested nectar 

slowly continues to digest, evaporate, concentrate

until now, thick and golden ripe it’s ready to cap.

So it is with spiritual practice

in whatever form

as we gather the nectar of teachings, extracting the essence

to let it rest in the heart of our practice

until, just like with the bees

it turns to honey,

an essence, in such abundance 

that all we can do is share.

(2021, ETE)

"Two Wings"

The spectrum of humanity

with its two poles;

spiteful mutants at one end

noble spiritual friends the other,

each working to better humanity

through different means

one destructive, the other creative,

one entangling, the other liberative,

one neurotic, the other mindful and mindfree,

includes us all

whether we know it or not,

whether we like it or not;

as humanity flies

one bird

two wings.

(2021, ETE)

"With New Year"

I sit

reading poems of Chinese sages

with their paintings of mountains and mist

from a thousand years ago.

Outside, snow falls like it did then,

and inside, I muse on it and the ways of the world

as they did too.

In between, the sights and sounds of today wash over me 

like in a dream

in a place and as a person I am always

only just getting to know

never quite sure I can accept

or trust what they have to offer;

security and comfort,

while snow continues to fall

amid mountains cloaked in mist.

(2021, ETE)

"Simply Waiting"

In the morning I sit

remembering Longchenpa's advice 

to observe thoughts with awareness

like an old man, basking in the sun,

watching children play.

And it's easy to effortlessly sit like this

without a care in the world.

Pema sits as well, 

facing me sphinx-like, soft and warm

and eventually I turn my attention to him

to watch as thoughts and sensations play across his face.

He is his own old man, like me, each with our own minds at play.

His simple, being a dog,

but with a complexity and subtlety 

that defies imagination. 

Eventually our eyes meet and like dancers

we read and match each other’s inner moves.

Intently he watches 

the way other dogs might hunt a squirrel in the trees,

and I see I have been his only master 

so that now I am the Sun he orbits

while he, the son I never had.

In the morning we sit together

an odd couple, two old men, father and son,

our souls dancing

until it is time to get up.

And in an instant 

I can see that for Pema 

it has all been an exercise in patience 

simply waiting to take a walk.

(2021, ETE)

“Here”

dig deep

beneath the brambles and leaves

into the very earth

deeper still

to where the moisture dwells

here is the very ground from which we came

and to which we go

here is our youth and old age

here are the bones of all men

and the ground from which the spring flowers rise

here is the mother of the dawn

and father of time

here is the child who wonders 

and elder who smiles knowing what awaits

here beneath the ground lies something 

beyond words, beyond reach 

here lies the Word

the rose and thistle, the honey and the bee

here at the end of the day

lies the dawn of night and the flight 

into the place we know as home

before there was a name.

(2021, ETE)

“Leave No Trace”

Step into nothingness

my little one

let the Great Night swallow you whole

be a spark 

be a fire 

that gently burns away 

to leave no trace

when the morning comes.

(2021, ETE)

"The Indescribable Moment"

the way a dream unfolds

the way a dream reveals

the way a dream delivers

peeling back the layers

of all we habitually carry

to leave us naked

and reassured

that we have never really strayed.

(2021, ETE)

"In the Fountain of Youth"

With a gentle “AH...” on the exhale

I begin my morning sit,

and instantly arrive.

A body immersed into a pool, an ocean, a healing spa.

A mind released from its endless game of grasp and hold.

But then what to do?

Immersed in this pool,

THE fountain of youth, is enough,

and yet my habit is to do, 

and the pool has the relaxing side effect of effervescence,

all my thoughts, memories, fantasies

released to bubble up into consciousness.

Yet the urge to grasp and hold these too, of course,

arises as imprints riding each bubble.

Habits die hard 

even in the fountain of youth.

So I sit

enduring the healing waters.

Not easy sometimes to heal you know,

but the pug comes to help

laying beside me, at ease in doing nothing.

So I sit

pretending to be a rock or tree

something immobile, planted,

but the pool metaphor seems more apt

something I can return to

refreshing.

Eventually the inertia of basic space

asserts itself, like in that first moment of settling in

over and over

there is just this basic space

luminous, clear, open

without judgment or direction, complete and accommodating 

whatever I bring, whatever I release

gently reminding me of my lack of me.

(2019, BM)

"In Death"

Death comes close in the night

when shadows grow and sleep envelopes, relaxing guards

who snore slumped in corners

their spears and shields useless on the ground, 

their dinner crumbs of cheese and bread 

just laying there for the rats to nibble.

Amid the sleepers and nibblers Death glides

like a mist; oppressive and still, and dead

leaving a taste, a scent, an air of such an otherness.

The rats scurry off

and the sleepers shift within their dreams

caught, held and slowly suffocated

till the last breath of Life is gone...

Then what does Death do?

The old shapeshifter wakes

and puts on the face of day.

(2019, BM)

"With Light"

I walked through the market

but there was nothing I wanted to buy,

nothing I thought I needed,

until the smile

on the faces of a few

gave me what can’t be bought,

and in that moment I drained the full cup

I’d been carefully holding

and filled it anew

with light.

(2019, BM)

"Blink of an Eye"

At 20 I never thought I’d have to work as hard

as I am at 60.

At 40 I never thought I wouldn’t want to.

Today I’m having my doubts.

A few days ago a man in town died suddenly

while out mowing his lawn,

and as I carry 60lb blocks and push wheel barrow loads of gravel

all day in the mid-summer sun

I think I’d be okay with keeling over doing this.

My will is in order,

those I love know I do,

and I’ve certainly had an interesting life,

but I think no matter if it’s today

or when I’m 80 or 100

when my heart finally does stop

I’ll be doing something 

I didn’t think I’d still have to be doing at that age

nor that I’d ever want to stop doing,

and in that instant

this will all seem like it has been just the blink of an eye.

(2019, BM)

"Listen Without Distraction"

(for Carol)

“Awakened One, listen without distraction,

now you are dead....”

So I tell my wife to tell me one day,

an instruction from the heart to the heart

regardless of her belief or skill, practice or familiarity,

but one dependent completely on my own,

all she need do is speak directly 

and once she has my attention

anything she says will liberate me

in that instant:

“Do not be afraid of it, do not escape, do not fear,

recognize it as the play of your own mind, your own projection.”

or,

“I need to go get groceries now, but know I love you always...”

or,

“Where are you, did you remember to take out the garbage?”

My wife after all is no stranger to me

having merged and known union 

in more ways than one

as often as the stars align

as often as the Moon and Sun do shine.

Awakened One

know you are now alive,

embodiment of Life itself

eternal, radiant

that which is always

immutable,

know you are loved

and that you are love,

that you are bathed in light

and are light,

from life to life, strength to strength, love to love, light to light, 

Awakened One, listen without distraction.....

(2019, BM)

"Give Thanks"

What is greater than thanks?

Praise.

And greater than praise?

I am that.

And greater than that?

Silence.

And greater than silence?

(2019, SMFAF)

"Finding Peace"

Every night the gates of delirium are torn apart

the irrational flies across the moats and walls of my defenses 

as easily and seductively as a murmuration of starlings,

and I am rescued

carried away on a magic carpet.

And each morning I arise into sanity again

like clockwork.

The doors of perception are thus opened for us all, 

all the time,

and yet equally are blown or thrown shut.

Against all odds I have found peace with this

from following whispered words,

and signs as subtle as the direction leaves fall

and flowers face.

So now I have no concern for gain or loss

or the endless display of chaos

and the natural order that is the world.

How do I do it?

I plant my mind like a stake

hammered in to hold a tent firm

regardless that there is no tent, no shelter, just the stake,

and planted thus

the winds of chaos are loosed and welcomed.

Come what may, what harm may come?

For without even a tent there is no cord 

and thus no way for the stake to pull free.

And so there is just awareness in the storm

awareness in the calm

awareness in the no-space

where order and chaos dance and play

gently as they make love.

(2019, SMFAF)

"A Burning Joy"

In the morning we burn brush;

huge piles making huger columns of flame

dancing, rushing, leaping in the responsive sky.

My 93 year old father-in-law 

drives his small ancient John Deere dozer on the steep slopes

cutting fire lines, adding the volatile sage 

to the dry piles of thinned pines.

Although he is much older than the machine he sits atop

he doesn’t look it.

Meanwhile my wife, his daughter,

tends the fires 

confident and competent from years 

of service to the forest.

There’s a simple unassuming way about their work,

practical and efficient,

and yet suffused with an unspoken and understated joy.

The joy of fire!

The joy of family.

The simple, even if essential, 

joy of getting the chores done before the snow falls.

(2019, SMFAF)

"Whitestone Hoodoos"

Near where I live,

just up the hill above the airport,

is a place of mystery and wonder,

a place wizards might once have dwelled,

or young warriors wandered in search of vision.

It’s a thicket of chalky hoodoos, sitting now

like a forest of plump petrified dwarfs made of meringue

sculpted by uncountable drops of rain

and whatever it is you might call a single unit of wind.

It’s enchanting for sure,

but largely ignored by the sensible folk.

It’s a place of unclimbable slippery slabs and

crumbly sliding slopes, of snakes with rattles

and succulents with thorns.

I’m sure to some eyes it’s just a barren hill,

and to others an inspiring view that’s always just out the window,

to some a marvelous result of random tectonic drifts

and to a few at least, a glimpse into the past 

when wizards and warriors met 

under the shadow of watchful dwarves 

and ate the bitter root.

(2019, SMFAF)

"A Touch of Grace"

The most poignant moments in my life 

are the dreams of reuniting with soulmates 

be they teacher, parent, lover 

as we gently touch cheeks 

exchanging a moment of softness and warmth 

that words can’t describe. 

Sometimes I wonder if this isn’t simply a cherished first memory

from before I knew words. 

But it makes me see 

that this is what our time together is all about, 

this brief moment 

extended over the years of our love 

this brief moment 

giving a taste of eternity 

a hint of the touch of grace 

that settles like star dust 

too gentle and subtle to know any other way.

(2019, SMFAF)

"A Single Exhale..."

(for Stephen)

There’s a certain point in summer

when it feels like it’ll last forever

a dazed mix of complacency and lethargy

when everything is tired 

from the gardens, to the dogs, to our senses. 

Satiated perhaps, but it’s something more,

a sense we have arrived at the peak of the peak season,

the fullness of Leo,

in all his solar glory,

and what can top that?

Of course this is about the exact time the nights get cooler,

we notice the peak has passed,

and winter approaches 

with all those chores undone.

So is life....

in all its simplicity,

and yet with this endless cycle of seasons

the endless cycle of human ups and downs also churns on,

all the things that

naturally arise in our habitual

dualistic mind.

And this is far more taxing and exhausting 

than the external heat and dust and smoke,

exhausting and overwhelming,

at least for me.

So a good friend tells me something today

he probably didn’t make up

but just as easily as anyone could have;

“Everything you need you can get from a single exhalation.”

(2019, SMFAF)

"A Heroes’ Welcome"

(for John)

Flim Flam 

the hero man

sold his story

and away he ran

From Hanoi to DC

before swamps could be drained

karma would catch him

and rot out his brain

But the damage was done

in the Great Halls of power

as his bombs of war

the whole world did scour

So what is now left

when the hero has faded

same as it was

a nation all jaded

Clamoring to praise

what was clearly a fool

a spoiled near despot

the ultimate tool.

(2019, SMFAF)

"Sun Made Flesh and Fiber"

In the woods of your own making every tree

has a dark side

and each, a whole, casts a shadow.

Where can you turn 

to find a way through?

Where can you run

that does not lead back into?

Trees, however dark and dense we find them,

only grow by the light of Sun.

They are in fact Sun made flesh and fiber,

and we, Sun’s eyes

as bright as stars

whose dust we honor,

have no home but here.

(2019, SMFAF)

"Words"

These words worn like clothes

eventually fall as leaves

naked in the truth

(2019, SMFAF)

"Six Pilgrim Poems"

In the Park

Belly full of chi

sky with gentle rain waters

dancers like flowers

My Dzogchen Realization

“Ah, Ah” says Raven

in play, in jest, proclaiming

primordial sound

The Way

Alone I wander. 

Too tired to climb the peaks

I settle into the valley

Following the way.

Emeishan

In the mountain clouds

the peaks remain elusive

while trees dance and breathe.

On the Way

On the way

all effort

is exhausted in the doing

This Dream

simple and complete

everything is everything

in this dream of ours

(2019, SMFAF)

"Month Diary, No Knowledge"

On the cusp of dreaming

whether asleep or not

mind continues to unfold

incessantly.

(2019, SMFAF)

"Meeting Mr. Brown"

The yoga of reality

involves nothing more than 

direct perception of reality

which of course is everything we see and hear,

everything we’ve always seen and heard.

What is possibly excluded from reality?

Infinite possibilities stretching off in infinite directions infinitely.

And what could we possibly know 

other than our experience of this?

All that limits our experience

is our mind’s habit to interpret our perceptions

and hypnotize itself to believe these interpretations

are somehow true.

But even a slight approximation isn’t the truth,

and what isn’t the truth

isn’t true,

although reality has room for all of that too.

The yogi of reality

rests within this paradox

content to find nothing more 

than the unresolvable

confusion of this moment.

Happy to just let it be.

Just as Lao Tzu said,

“Darkness within darkness,

the gate to all mystery.”

(2019, SMFAF)

"Walkabout"

Each day I walk about two miles

usually just me and my two dog friends.

I do it for health reasons,

theirs and mine.

We walk the trails and gravel roads

of the hills around home,

all pretty plain, but sometimes we adventure 

and explore further afield.

I’ve come to see it isn’t 

so much the where that counts most but the what.

You could say it’s my meditation time,

but that sounds a bit twee

as the British would say.

Let’s just say it’s my time to settle,

time to review thoughts and dreams,

continue conversations and make plans,

but mainly just to let that go, let it out,

so I can observe what it is I’m actually doing.

And when my thoughts settle and sometimes cease what do I find?

The sounds and sights of my friends

panting and limping and trotting beside me,

the crunching of my own steps

the insects and birds and breezes all around

and the feel of the sun, or rain...

(2019, SMFAF)

"Perseids"

Nothing bigger than the sky

except what is behind it

the idea, and even sense, of infinity

stretching, racing, expanding ever outward

even faster than the speed of light.

Nothing smaller than the knowledge 

of my insignificance,

not necessarily my life’s in relation to others, 

but what I experience as me just now

in this very moment,

when I am only a point of observation

behind a pair of eyes.

Above, the so called stars,  

the lesser debris of passing cosmic clouds, 

fall in rapid

random patterns

leaving ephemeral tails as they burn 

through Earth’s outer layers.

Below, at my fingers,

the ground, soft and cool, firm and tangible,

is reachable yet ultimately ungraspable,

clearly finite, but still too big 

to get my mind around.

And so it is this night

as I step outside my comfortable box,

to share the yard with a dog, a simple friend,

whose range of interests and ideas

extends no further than the two of us, 

and yet whose sense of infinity,

something I’m sure we share,

is also beyond what I can know.

In the dark 

as we embody the union of earth and sky

it is obvious to us both

the sharing is what matters most.

(2016, LP)

"At Breakfast"

At breakfast

I sit at a table with a man

who looks like an old chimpanzee

face long, beard grey

sporty blue driving cap on his head.

There is much experience in his face

of a life that has been worn away.

Like a woman I steal glances

and absorb it all in an instant.

I look beyond him.

On the wall above his head

a quilt of prayers hangs.

One proclaims, “May all beings find joy.”

And I think instead, “May all beings find Waldo.”

cracking myself up

amid the still and somber silence

of retreat.

(2016, LP)

"Riding a Wind Horse"

Every time I sit, really just sit

I'm reminded that this

is enough

to let it go and just settle

without expectation

but alert awareness

here and now.

Enlightenment, liberation, grace, peace etc.

whatever we call it - the ideal we're aiming for -

isn't a matter of building or achieving

or a process of developing or becoming

it is instead what we naturally have 

when we stop the building,

relax the grasping.

Yet it is easier said than done

especially when we're young

and our ability, our habit, our desire

to grasp is so strong.

And so we use that desire 

homeopathically

to grasp and really hold 

until exhaustion.

And then instead of holding such ideals

and concepts, and methods

so tightly

just let them go.

Or if we must

hold the concept like the reins of

a wind horse

gently, delicately between two fingers

ever ready to release 

in this 

complete moment.

And simply sit, just sit

and trust that that is enough.

(2016, LP)

"Left Unsaid"

Several nights ago I dreamt

of listening to a teacher,

a young meditation master, 

sitting before us

telling her students

that knowledge is not important

and is in fact a distraction.

“Yes!” I thought, 

but her students did not understand.

And as if sharing a joke 

she leaned over 

and looked at me

with a twinkle in her eye.

(2016, LP)

"Left Brain Right Brain"

The two halves of our brain

exist like opposites in our world

but as wholes within our heads.

Sometimes it seems the left -

the side of words and logic and manageable things  -

disregards that there is even an other,

a side that is in fact the master

that all perceptions filter through,

a gate keeper ever watching without judgment,

a side that knows

but doesn’t say

speaking instead in gesture, music and image, 

that only hint at the truth,

that takes us down

the rabbit hole

to realms unknown

yet all our own

where sequences build 

and break and form

kaleidoscopic worlds are born

where wind can talk

and Sun does sing

and logic becomes a playful thing

that turns to noodles 

we sell at roadside stands

eat with cop sticks

that dance to marching bands

and feed to snakes

as they hum the rhyme

of ancient mariners 

now lost in time…

(2016, LP)

"Suit Your Self"

Within the pirate’s hardened heart

an amulet does hang

of finest silver, wood and stone

cross-like in brittle strands

an ornament to serve what cause 

when he is all alone

perhaps to simply rest right there

reminder of his home.

Within the broken castaway’s

upon the lonely shore

that heart beats strong and wild and free

but never will know more.

While in the friendly householder 

at table full and warm

there is a heart of love for all

at least while comfort’s worn.

Out on the road or in the stalls

the animals of toil

await the call to serve at will

with hearts so strong but dull.

While eagles and black crows do play 

in craggy hills and trees

and float and soar and dance about

with hearts so full of ease.

By land and sea and in the air

the heart does beat and fly

but finds no joy or freedom there

if love does pass it by.

A love that weeps internally

for all that’s come before

and all that will be left undone

when there is nothing more.

As springtime follows from the fall

long dormant in between

the summer too will pass one day

and leave us like a dream

a cycle of a year or life

revealing who we are

from bright to dull and back again

the journey of a star.

(2016, LP)

"Dreams"

There is no ownership 

in the night

where dreams come and go

alone

we burn the dead like cordwood

and wait for dawn

to summon the authorities

(2016, LP)

"Forgiveness"

(for Shae)

There is but one sole panacea

to let the light of love in,

to allow it to bathe and transform

the darkness of ignorance 

that is the root of all our suffering.

Forgiveness softens all

to the point of dissolving,

and when such ignorance dissolves

where does it go?

It is like it never existed 

in the first place…

(2016, LP)

"Living Room Floor" 

November light and colors stream in 

through the window

and I notice it, like in the eye of a storm

A whirlwind that has included pain and creativity

but always distraction –

of strivings and graspings at 

accumulation and accomplishment.

And in a moment – of sun, sound and color – 

it all settles to be just this;

Everyone, everywhere burning like so many 

points of light

like on a Christmas tree, connected by strings

amid the tinsel and baubles and

homemade ornaments of meaning.

Light that knows no division of inside or out, 

me or you, 

us or them.

(2015, THOI)

"For  Kailash" 

Mind like the wind blew

Away when I let it go

The way of all things

(2015, THOI)

"A Simple Act" 

For years I practiced

Esoteric postures

To give me something

I thought I lacked

But when my hour

Of need came

They didn’t help

Didn’t make it through 

The great ego filter

Only awareness made it 

Only familiarity with that

Awareness helped

Later when I was tired

And down and wondering

If I’d drown anyways

My lover gave me some advice

A simple street-wise posture

To stand firm, feet planted apart

Back straight, head up

When I started by lifting my head

I realized I was only in shallow 

If swiftly moving water

And I wouldn’t drown

Couldn’t really without

Wanting to

As long as I kept my 

Head up

But really the swift rapids

Is less glorified than that

More of an old cup of coffee

That I make swirl if I 

Fiddle with enough

But if I tried I could

Drown in it too

While trying hard to wake up perhaps

Or just make a point

Or not

Somewhere someone is making

The choice to awake

To rise

To shine

To lift their head

Recall the view

Perhaps they are swimming

Or sharing a hot

Morning cup 

Whatever it is

I’m sure it’s

A simple act 

Of love, of faith

Of recognition

(2015, THOI)

"Untitled – at Rigdzin Ling"

Manzanita

atop a slight rise 

forms a natural shrine:

the place a person could make an offering

and say a prayer,

the place a meditator could sit

and get up a buddha.

(2015, THOI)