Poetry books

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"Sweet Nothings"

Cool autumn morning

And the best place to be

Is nestled up beside papa

As he reads or idles away his time

But not before taking time

To whisper sweet nothings

In my old pug face

A face only a mother could love

In a world where everyone is my mother

(11/10/24)

"In The Misty Woods"

In the misty woods

As time and place blended

Into something outside each

We made love

In so many ways

As dolphins laughed

And humpbacks sang

And after when we napped

Our lives unfolded

In year after year

Of work and pleasure

Challenge and discovery

Again and again

Meeting and parting

In patterns of a dance

Always sharp and clear

Yet just at the edge of sight

Peripheral moments

Adding up to lives spent

As so many coins

Held and saved

And released

One by one.

(10/26/24)

"Wings of Light "

Yes indeed, as cheesy as it may sound 

my advice is to drop all pretense 

of spiritual striving and accomplishment.  

Like a child, play,  

and ignore what anyone may think or say,  

no matter how old you feel.  

Your way is yours alone 

and thank heaven

it’s not our lot to guide others (being the dutiful ferryman).  

Cross the great river however way you can  

put it all behind you…and you will find  

your wings were always made to soar.  

(7/8/24) 

"Mowing as Meditation"

I’ve written about it before

Because it’s just so interesting

The way the mind works doing mindless chores

As I zigzag in and out of trees mowing the arboretum.

Sometimes there’s a pattern I follow.

But usually, it’s a sporadic dance

Of split second decisions

Weaving around as the moment dictates.

Then sometimes something rare happens,

Or rather doesn’t happen,

And I find myself completely out of mind

Mindlessly mowing, turning and twisting in random motion.

And it’s in these rare moments

That I find freedom,

Or at least get a taste,

Of what it’s really like to be free.

I catch myself then of course,

And return to some semblance of mindful mowing,

I am after all merely human

Human all too human.

(7/6/24)

"One Love"

With the passage of time

One love follows after another

- the nouns of our existence

people, places and things

we place our hopes on -

Changing like the seasons

In cycles of growth and decay.

But one love remains constant

Timeless simply by its presence out of time

Ever changeless and unconditioned 

Even if unacknowledged

Neglected or denied

A root love

That knows no bounds.

With the seasons we cycle

Around and around

Growing and decaying, 

Recalling and forgetting

What it is that holds us

In its orbit

In its love.

(3/19/24)

"Key to the Highway"

Everybody knows

Deep down in their bones

That what you see 

Is what you get

The mind being a

Conditional thing

Adopts, adapts, 

reflects, refracts

Whatever it is

We focus upon

Be it heaven 

Or be it hell

So remember this

As you make your way

That what you see 

Is what you get

But what you look for

Is the key

(2/19/24)

"Sitting With The Wood Dragon"

For over forty-five years 

I’ve been meditating on and off, 

Some times a lot, 

Some times not at all

But as I sit this New Year’s Day 

Welcoming in the Wood Dragon

I think maybe I’ve never

Actually meditated at all

Unlike riding a bicycle 

Sitting observing my mind 

And its thoughts today

Doesn’t feel familiar 

I know what to do

But can’t remember 

Ever having done it before

As if the person who did it then

Wasn’t the same as the one now

And it makes me feel like a fool

Or fake or better yet

Simply a beginner

Who sits once again

With his beginner’s mind

In the moment

A dragon

Powerful and challenging

Waiting to be tamed

(2/11/24)

"Beyond Words, A Rose by Any Other Name…"

Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout it

because it, is all there is.

Like there is but one sun 

everyone sees and is extolling.

Even when they’re pointing at the moon

it’s still just Sun’s light 

reflecting on her face.

Yet still people fuss and fight

splitting hairs all through the night…

But meanwhile Life goes on,

and if you want to see 

the hand of God at work

look no further than the play of children,

or musicians, grooving with each other,

riding waves of wordless bliss,

swirling dancers in their wake.

Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout it 

after all, what more is there to say?

(1/28/24)

"The Dream"

In a dream I talk to a young man in his prime,

A bit of a wandering missionary type

Eager to engage in spiritual dialogue,

And he asks if I’ve ever been to his

Beverly Hills sports bar called The Dream.

I reply I’ve never even been to Beverly Hills

But that it reminds me 

Of the philosophical question 

Of there being two kinds of people;

Those who say life is a dream, and

Those who say life is like a dream.

But as I ask him what he thinks of this

Basic dichotomy of spiritual insight 

I wake, and

Lay in bed in the pre-dawn dark

Wondering who he was, and the challenge he represents.

I concluded that he was Christ,

The modern day kind

Who’d own a sports bar on Rodeo Drive

In that shining City of Angels.

I liked that he’d name his place

The Dream, and that it would be a welcoming place

For both kinds of spiritual seekers.

I then wondered how many bars

Across this vast country have the same name,

And how I’d like to do a pilgrimage to them all

Meeting their patrons, sampling their fare

And seeing all the faces Christ presents

In the world today.

It would make a good book,

Maybe not The Good Book,

But an interesting one nonetheless.

And within its pages the dichotomy of the dream

Would become transparently clear;

That while the two seem different,

Even mutually exclusive points of view,

They aren’t.

And that’s the beauty of The Dream

It welcomes all.

(1/19/24)

"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.

(1/7/24)

"Call and Response"

Raven heart of blood

Where are you if not in me

Still you call my name

(12/13/23)

"Memories of a Slave"

The world, at least my world, is nothing if not predictable.

There are moments however when the Sun breaks through

and a real unexpected, enlightening, light shines.

Usually this is in dreams when I begin to float or fly,

but sometimes it’s just as simple as laughing 

at the absurd twist of something someone says.

The effect though is joy, a moment of euphoria

when something is released, someone liberated.

I wonder about this 

what it’s evolutionary purpose is 

(rewarding innovation and novelty perhaps?),

but it strikes me as true

kindling a memory

that runs deeper than my own life, 

or place in evolution

that this is just the joy of someone,

who has been a slave from beginningless time,

when they get a momentary glimpse 

beyond the ties that bind.

(12/13/23)

"Dancing with the Devil – aka, The Universal Solvent"

When the Devil shows his hospitality

And tempts you with your own resentment

Do you flee, fight or freeze,

Or simply laugh and offer your hand 

In gratitude.

(11/20/23)

"Someone’s Calling You"

Someone’s calling you

To awake within the dream

Simply see the love

That has only always been

(11/19/23)

"The Way Light Changes"

There are times when the very fabric of reality

changes; alters, loosens and expands,

and for that matter times when it tightens and constricts.

The former leads to bliss and joy, confidence and clarity,

the latter to claustrophobic anxiety.

The expansion though is worth focusing on

as the ties that bind relax

triggered by something as simple as a look or smile,

a dose of some powerful entheogen,

nature’s beauty or unexpected wonder,

a series of musical notes unlocking the forgotten,

the ethereal vibe of a New Age bookstore

full of synchronistic possibility,

a museum holding the secrets of the world

and creative output of humanity,

the sacred space of church and temple, archaic ruin

old growth forest, open desert, mountain top

centered on a solitary cushion….

Everywhere we turn

we meet the opportunity to confront

the numinous 

in both the obvious and sublime.

Everywhere we go

there is a window and door

that hinges both ways.

Even when life becomes familiar, stable and secure

there is always a moment waiting

to catch the eye, engage the heart, open the mind

and bring us to a different light.

(11/10/23)

"Conceived in Light"

On this wheel of life

The man of constant sorrow

Plays illusion's game

(11/4/23)

"In the Spacious Green"

Cutting through directly

across the stream of endless traffic

I arrive in an instant

on the median

calm, still, at peace

in the spacious green.

How can it be such a fool

has such opportunity?

How can it be such a direct path exists?

Everyone else whizzing past

glimpses this space

but cannot stop

imbedded in the flow

as they are

bound to journey 

from here to there.

So fast they go

compelled to race along

ever  faster

a blur in the mind’s eye

while I have simply ceased

at peace

in the spacious green.

(10/27/23)

"You Give Me So Much"

“You give me so much!”

I coo, as I hug and kiss

one of my four dogs

one of my four best friends

remembering how they are mine

for just a brief time

while I am theirs

for a whole life.

Such best friends come and go

an endless river of love

in human, canine and feline form

each one absorbing the love

they effortlessly draw 

as our hearts entwine.

“You give me so much.”

They reply with just their eyes.

(10/27/23)

"AH…"

(for Carol)

And with a single exhale

Life once lived 

Moves on 

Leaving

A pale and hollow shell

Along a river

Of no return 

(10/14/23)

"For Bill"

A day spent with you actively dying

Or rather in this case rapidly fading away

Almost ten decades weighing heavy 

On all our hearts

Only to have you rally

Just as I’m leaving for home

To lonely dogs and my own bed 

So we part on a lucid note

And Carol decides to stay

Something in your rattling breath

Saying it might be your last together

Out in the hall a fellow resident

You know, the one who wears all his hats

Stacked on his head

Wheels his chair around

Perennial coffee cup in hand

Eager to visit while everyone else

Remains firmly in their nests 

A night owl fearful of sleeping

For fear of missing something

Not sure if or how he knows 

We are here for you 

And your lingering last day

He volunteers these words of consolation;

“He’ll get there eventually”

As if it’s the obvious destination

Of us all.

And I head home alone

Unsure what tomorrow will bring

But sure today will never be again

To dogs eager to come inside

Reluctant to sleep

And possibly miss something important

In the human world

To a wee dram of whisky 

And a spin of George Harrison’s

Achingly beautiful classic

All Things Must Pass

“Forgetting to give back

Isn’t it a pity…”

So Bill

To your good health 

In the moments that remain

And to your safe passage

Beyond all that remains

When the cup is drained

What once was full

Slainte Mhath!

(10/12/23)

"My Muse"

“Does this work as a poem?”

I ask my muse washing dishes.

Yes, or no, she will say

Like an oracle at a spring

Without thought or deliberation

But with decisive tone

And either way

I’m back where I started

No better or worse

Clearer or confused

Back with the words

That began

As a spring

(10/12/23)

"You Can’t Judge a Book By Its Cover"

You can’t judge a book by its cover

Or then again maybe you can

Covers show us what the authors want us to see

And there is plenty to judge in that

But it may not be what the author wants us to think

Once open though

All bets are off

As the author’s own words

And not just image

Are exposed for us to taste, test and judge.

And yet still in our judgment

What are we really seeing?

Speaking from experience

I can say there are many

Who have seen me, my art and poems

And think I’m cool

And then….

After a bit of conversation

Walk away

Thinking, Jeez, what a racist, sexist, fascist pig.

If you need to see the face

Of all you judge and fear

Just look in the mirror.

(10/10/23)

"Dance and Sing"

Dance and sing

Hand in hand, cheek to cheek

Playfully swaying, chanting, drumming

To a beat

That rises and falls

Moving like a torch

From soul to soul

Igniting the light

That burns within

And spreads without

Each beat, each word arising

In spontaneity

Draws us out

Each in our own way and time

Draws us out

With infectious joy

To simply dance and sing

(10/8/23)

"Fly In The Ointment"

(aka Dirty Boots on the Ground of Being)

Feeling something’s not right

a general dissatisfaction

or persistent fundamental flaw

I look inward for a cause.

Dr. Hubris, at your service! 

Self appointed, to discover, 

diagnosis and cure

the very footsteps he makes

in the wilderness of Psyche.

But what he finds is the same 

basic ignorance he always finds

an ignorance at the core of it all,

so basic there is no cure.

And so his footsteps change nothing

except leave his tracks

across this pristine ground

the ground his projecting creative mind

self-identifies as flawed….

(10/8/23)

"Swastika Girls"

(for Mu’ncle)

In the Valley of Swat

The Holy Ghosts of rishis dwell

After all this time

All these changes

Nothing can erase

The lingering scent

Of gnosis

(10/7/23)

"Down to the Bone"

Over and over 

Up and down 

Back-and-forth 

Around and 'round 

It’s always learning the same lesson.

Learning it again 

And again.

Like a species, 

An individual 

With amnesia 

We cycle around 

Experiencing

To rediscover 

Yet again

What we’ve always known 

Not in a rut, but

In a spiral. 

And each time ‘round 

As we relearn the old,

We learn it with a new twist 

Twist of the coil

Which inevitably

In time 

Is worn out 

In exhaustion, worn 

Down to the bone

To a stub 

A frayed knot 

A bit of tattered fabric

That once supported

Bound and

Veiled the sacred

In a mystery,

But now

Leaves it

Revealed 

In stark simplicity.

(10/5/23)

"You’ll Never Come Back…"

Thrown into an ocean 

Deeper and vaster than thought

Carried on waves of sound

Waves of light

Propelled on waves of bliss

Through a portal 

That has no name

No place

No time

But here and now

Washed up on a shore

After the storm

Bathed in warmth

Exhausted of all content

Left alone

At the heart of it all

Connected to it all

Without a doubt

Someone whispers

Somewhere 

Just beyond sight

“You’ll never come back”

And in an instant

I am thrown into doubt

Back to what!?

To this timeless place

Or what I left behind?

And then in the next

Caught up in those waves

Propelled 

Life goes on

Same as it ever was

Forever changed

Forever fresh

Forever

(9/27/23)

"Raven"

Raven with his cloak of feathers

Shimmers in the noon day Sun

Calling, laughing, hopping, dancing

Plays with light in joy for fun

Teach us now for we have fallen

Far from grace that comes with dawn

As the night quickly approaches

Lead us on the path you’ve drawn

Calling, laughing, hopping, dancing

Raven leaves us where we are

Silly child who grasps a rainbow

Light refracting from a star

So it goes in endless cycles

Step by step we trudge along

While Sun and Earth dance as partners

Only Raven knows the song

(9/24/23)

"Just Another Door"

Our society is sick

Spiritually sick

Because it has lost religion

Or transferred it to hollow

Shallow faiths – such as Scientism,

Environmentalism, Feminism, Marxism

Which can give us literally nothing

At death’s door.

Death should be the big day

What our lives have been not only heading to

But aiming for, preparing for

As our BIG day – THE day –

D-day.

People prepare for other big days;

Prom night, graduations, weddings, births

But curiously

Not death.

How do you want to die?

Or put another way,

Do you want to die randomly,

And without direction

Or with intention and vision?

Either way, it’s just another door.

(9/19/23)

"The Beauty of Poetry" 

The beauty of poetry 

is it gives everyone access to wisdom

by the simple act of recording what is;

“Sun sets, moon rises…”

Of course not everyone takes the time 

to notice and record what is,

nor is all poetry effective,

but the beauty of it is

the potential is always there;

Here and now

in simply what is.

(9/18/23)

"Sky Red at Noon"

(to Amitabha)

In the pureland of the West

Sits the Buddha of Infinite Light.

Within the infinite light

Radiates the perfect compassion

Of enlightened passion

The magnetizing power

Of brilliant fire 

Turning the whole sky

Red at noon.

Where is this place?

I want to go!

Where is this light?

I want to see!

So says everyone

At some point 

In their heart.

The question

Becomes a quest

When we take the first step

To our heart’s desire

Which is of course

Within.

(9/17/23)

"There and Back Again"

Pilgrimage
An ideal place
Seen through
An ideal lens

And so we go!

The journey of all souls
In endless procession
To the top of the world
Up above the highest heights
Where the air is thin
Light bright
Mind clear

Up where idealism
Meets the rutted road
As dust settles
To be just this
And then more of this
Bad food
Bad sleep
Bad roads
And good company
All within a beauty
Best appreciated
In retrospect
And coffee table books

In the moment
Self-flagellating
Down the path
To enlightenment
Seeking what
We’ve always had

But never held
A view of inner peace
Light and love
Purified of its dross
By the grind of the road
We pilgrim on
This endless dream
There and back again
There and back again…

(9/11/23)

"Exposed for All to See"

In the world turned upside down,

bad is good.

And inside out,

corruption long shielded is celebrated.

For now at least

exposed for all to see.

It’s called the fall of civilization

as what once held us all together,

by holding us each back,

collapses into narcissistic pleasure

breaking tainted hearts and distorted minds

into the common well, now poisoned.

The weight of humanity’s collective mutational load

too much to bear, spews what can’t be held, from

the gaping wounds and oozing sores of Pandora’s Box, 

perverted pleasures, twisted identities, confused genders, 

senseless violence of relative values,

through the broken gates of order and control.

In the world turned upside down

what was bad is good, and good is bad;

the wicked held high and righteous in chains

everywhere sheep led to slaughter

civilization on its knees, helpless

for now at least,

exposed for all to see..

(9/8/23)

"The Place of Pets"

The place of pets in the home,

in the family, in our hearts

is different than that of children.

Children are better for humanity,

the group, the future,

but pets are better for the soul.

Pets never really grow up, 

they love unconditionally,

and they die more often.

And that’s a good thing,

because when they go, after giving so much,

they take a bit of us too.

Where does it go you may ask?

I don’t know, but last night at dinner

I had a vision of being greeted at Heaven’s Gate

by all the pets I’ve ever known, 

but no humans…

(9/7/23)

"The Deepest Well"

(for DB)

The physiology of grief

is an interesting thing

the way it tugs on our deepest memories

activating layers of neural nets

in a rush-hour tangle of ghosts.

You were our Diamond Back.

Of so many lives, we all lost count

until we lost track of you

putting you out to vomit up a hair ball

then forgetting to let you back in.

DB the blind cat

in the morning remembering 

my mistake, calling and looking

eventually finding

you gone for good out on the highway.

DB in sixteen years

to travel so far

to see so much

even though blind

and crippled and half deaf by the end.

I wished you had lived forever

As I do with all my loves

because you became the best cat ever

purified of all selfishness

by all your suffering.

In the morning there's a hole

as we pile fresh roses in your grave

so sad with what we have done

the gentle friend we have lost

with so many lives.

(9/6/23)

"The First Day"

(for Tyrome)

Hiding my face at the gate

I wait

for something to pull me 

from the inertia

of my fear.

Until it builds to breaking

through

and off I run

to join the fray

on this, my first day.

Sixty years past

I still remember 

the wonder of pre-school

at our neighbor’s home 

right beside the lake.

And so I think 

you too will remember this

as the first thing

you really had

of your own.

(9/5/23)

"In Praise of Mindlessness"

I’ve sought and found mindlessness in a variety of ways

From dancing to climbing, meditating and painting,

but in retirement I find it easiest mowing the arboretum.

As I weave in and out of the randomly placed trees and shrubs

and regularly spaced irrigation pipes

I seek the novel and fresh at every turn.

It’s best when I find it

unexpectedly zipping off in a new direction

exploring new pathways, carving new patterns.

In these moments there is a rush

as the spontaneous surprises me, creativity takes hold,  

and I can’t help but ride the moment.

I’ve spent years aiming for this moment on a cushion

and find poetic justice

in the fact it is at last as easy as pie in retirement.

Of course it’s not true mindlessness

after that initial spontaneous instant.

I have to make sure I don’t drive over anything.

But random is always an option, 

and eagerly seeking it leads me to fall, or in this case, drive 

into spontaneous mindlessness again, and again.

.

The joy that accompanies the mindless

is what interests me most.

It’s a self-contained joy that feeds on and for itself.

The German word, ‘funktionslust’ describes it best.

The joy an animal gets doing what it’s meant to do

which of course means it just gets better at doing it.

This is how birds learn to fly and primates climb,

how yogis become accomplished doing nothing and going nowhere,

and how lazy old men get the lawn mowed, with effortless joy.

(9/2/23)

"Veils"

Veils get lifted all the time

Anytime we encounter truth

But they then fall back into place

The natural effect of gravity

Or whatever we call the force

That is opposed to the levity of truth.

For me this recently happened

Seeing a particularly fresh and joyful Turkish rug,

But it’s happened before in myriad ways,

From vivid dreams, to close brushes with Death,

From the satori of meditation to taking just the right dose

In just the right set and setting.

Truth may be a constant,

But our relationship to it is constantly changing.

Earth spinning and revolving around Sun

Comes to mind as an apt metaphor

All the more apt since it is also our actual condition,

If we take ourselves to be objects in time and space.

Veils support such illusions

Perhaps, and simply, because they give us something

Tangible, which without, leave us naked

Exposed for who we are,

Or more poignantly, 

Who we aren’t.

(8/31/23)

"The Color of Soul"

Yesterday I got a rug,

A thirty year old Turkish village weaving

Just full of light and joy, so much so 

That it makes all my others seem soulless.

Like pornography, soul is something

You can’t define but know when you meet it.

And once met

You will never be the same.

People disparage the modern world

For a variety of reasons,

While at the same time enjoying the benefits,

But it all boils down to it being soulless.

Soul apparently is a delicate thing

Something that isn’t a thing

Exists by degrees

And is expressed in everything we do and create.

And what we create without soul is lifeless.

This would of course

Apply to the children we raise

Which perhaps explains a lot today.

Maybe it’s possible to revive and cultivate soul,

The Turkish rug certainly implies so

Which gives me hope

For myself and everyone else.

I still don’t know what it is

But at least I know now how it feels,

And thus see more clearly

What it isn’t.

(8/30/23)

"Three Years"

(for Tyrome)

It’s the fourth birthday of his I’ve now attended

as my grandson turns three.

It’s in the park

and a new blue scooter with blue helmet

keep him entertained all afternoon.

The next morning 

he’s still wearing the helmet

as I pass along a family tradition and read

Dr. Seuss’s Happy Birthday To You!,

and then all day he keeps it on

as we take him to the river

to learn how to fish with his new pole 

and little blue tackle box.

After a year of seeing him regularly every month

this busy summer apart seems like ages,

and as we hug and part

he says softly 

“I don’t want to let go.”

A simple thought 

that not only makes my day but whole year.

Years fly by

whether you’re having fun or not

at work or play, each moment experienced 

with awareness or distraction

one minute you’re born, then you’re old

older at least until you’re old at last.

At three you have reached the point

where sentences become paragraphs

body and mind at last have some semblance of control

no longer a baby or even a toddler

you’re a real boy, with your own interests

a whole life ahead to have and to hold 

and learn the art of letting go.

(8/27/23)

"Worn Out"

Once again, worn out

From the simple act of living

Blown out of all held dear

Waves come and go

Stretching across time and space

A tragic loss here

A triumphant gain there

And still the waves come

Lapping at a shore

That is time itself 

Manifest in a million little grains

Lapping as I lay exhausted 

Too tired to think, too tired to feel

Anything but a sadness

Deeper than time.

(8/23/23)

"Lost and Found"

To simply sit is enough

rain or shine, bright or dull

it doesn’t matter.

To simply sit

in this moment just as it is

nothing is gained

but everything lost.

And when you’re done?

Why, everything is right 

where you left it.

(8/20/23)

"Lipstick on a Pig"

No matter what you do in samsara 

in the effort to improve samsara, 

improve yourself, improve others, 

it’s still samsara.

All effort, all improvement, never leaves the wheel, 

but that doesn’t mean there’s only the wheel. 

The wheel is what spins, ever-changing,

the embodiment of impermanence, 

but what it spins in

spins around, 

spins for,

is another story altogether.

(8/19/23)

"Ocean of your Mind"

(for Gad)

In these troubled times

Let your animal spirit

Be the honey badger

Small but fiercely indomitable 

Stand up, stand tall

As those waves of faux outrage

Spew from the cavernous holes

Of the toothless, spineless SJWs

To break, drained of all their power

On the reef of your equanimity 

In these troubled times

Take a break from the rest

To let it go and let it be

In the arms of some Mother Mary

On the beaches of your dreams

Hear the dolphin’s cry

As they call you in to play

There in the warm and deep and clear

Take a breath then let it go

In the ocean of your mind
(8/15/23)

"Anatomy of a Marriage"

(for Carol)

We stay up late to watch the Perseid meteor shower,

late for us now being after 9.

We end up moving our individual lawn chairs to separate parts

of the front lawn,

apparently more interested in our individual views of the heavens

than our proximity as a couple.

We see no meteors

as we watch the stars begin to appear,

but three satellites pass overhead 

in less than a minute,

and this makes me feel some wonder 

at what humanity has accomplished.

You then go inside

as I start to doze 

and return with word that the internet astronomers

have pronounced 4am as the prime viewing time.

So off we go to bed and sleep.

At 4 I wake,

bundle up in an old bathrobe, 

and head out into the star covered yard.

Eventually you follow

and we watch as several meteors shower past in as many minutes.

Content that we have seen it,

although definitely less impressed than we remember,

we head back to bed 

and sleep.

(8/13/23)

"Taste Again"

In the cave of unknowing

all my accumulations are gathered

accoutrements and sign posts

along the way I have chosen.

The path though never leaves the cave.

What awaits outside is pathless

immediate and direct.

In the cave of unknowing I sit

and see all my troubles

have always been the ripple I send out

from being me.

No matter how they go out and come back

eventually they settle

and I taste again

what it means to be free.

(8/9/23)

"Skin Deep"

People like to look and smell good

on the surface

But we all know how much work

it takes to maintain that illusion!

Yet it’s an illusion worth maintaining.

If we don’t forget the reality

that lies beneath.

(8/6/23)

"A Study in Apoplexy"

(for Carol)

Sometimes all you can do is rage,

rage against the machine, rage against humanity

rage against the way

decks get stacked and chips fall.

These are the times

for being apoplectic

if nothing else to purge oneself

of all the crap you have consumed.

And when your apoplexy passes

time to regroup with friends who hold you dear,

with dogs and plants,

and all the things that know how to take and take and take,

and then give you what you need.

The first lesson in life

is there are certainly others who love you.

The second is this life isn't fair

and never will be.

And the way this happens - 

either by stroke of luck or curse - 

is always beyond control.

But that doesn’t make it bad.

As difficult and unpleasant as it gets

it can always get worse.

And even when you feel you can’t take any more,

the thing to remember, that no matter how bad,

it can all be healed with a single breath.

(8/3/23)

"The Poet’s Game"

What is the poet’s game?

To point out what lies beyond

and simultaneously within

the mundane.

To point out what we all know 

but perhaps have forgot.

To point out that from the right angle

everything is an illusion,

but that obviously there must be some essence

that is not,

something ineffable, indescribable, 

maybe even unknowable, because otherwise

the illusion would be unrecognizable 

just as if everything were light - 

without there being the contrast of dark

it wouldn’t be light.

To point out the value of what we so easily take for granted,

the value of the small, the silent, the transitory,

within the vast roar of eternity.

The poet’s game

may all be in vain,

but nonetheless is the game we all play

from our very first breath

in our hearts, in our dreams

because there we know

Life – the universe itself – 

effortlessly yields to the spirit of play.

(7/24/23)

"Talk About Shit"

I was talking to a friend recently

She said she tries to meditate

But that it is so hard

I replied, yes it’s so effortless

It can be hard. 

She said, hard because the mind

Always moves, especially 

When you try to calm it.

And I replied

That her natural mind 

Was calm and clear 

The very instant before 

She said what she just said

And that watching this natural mind

Being whatever

And however it naturally is

Is meditation.

Like a child

Natural mind naturally is

Then isn’t 

As it tries to see itself 

And control itself.

And this is all good

The way of humans

The way of nature.

This is the ego Jung spoke of

That needs to develop

To maturity

The first half of life’s project

To dissolve in the second.

Not to return

To the mind of a child

But to expand 

Into the mind of the cosmos 

Then I said,

Like how you eventually have to shit

After a meal.

And she reminded me

Little boys

Love to talk about shit.

(7/16/23)

"Confident In Your Ignorance"

Go ahead,

Tell the world what to do

So it’s more like

The world you want.

Forget for a moment

You have only been here

For a moment

While the world

Both the literal earthy one

And the figurative human one

Have been here

Turning, surviving, evolving

For a very long time indeed.

Tell us 

What we need to do

To make this all a safe

And better place

To preserve the fragile peace

Of your well founded confidence.

(7/14/23)

"A Month of Revelations"

That people are great, 

but sadly they tend to be those under three and over thirty.

That everyone projects (their own hopes and fears),

but almost everyone is unaware they’re doing it.

That the generation gap is wider than ever,

and that youth in America have lost all respect for their elders.

The reason for this is the steady eroding of authority for the past 60 years,

and a desire of parents to be “friends” and equals with their kids.

Being friends with one’s children is something that should come in old age,

or at least after they are adults.

The only exception to this loss of respect is in the Native American culture,

but sadly that is about all they have left.

No one is equal to another,

because equal is a function of quantity not quality.

Women have no facial hair to strengthen the mother/child bond when nursing,

and this is a big evolutionary step up from our other Great Ape relatives.

This is the kind of epiphany probably only a father with a beard could have,

but just because a guy has it doesn’t mean it ain’t so.

Most social problems facing the world today are a result of denying biology,

but those wanting to change the world can only accept nurture over nature.

That there is always unfinished business,

and that welcoming the ripening of this karma is the best approach.

Lemons are good, 

but lemonade is better.

(7/7/23)

"Just a Dream"

In the land of sleep and honey

where frog and princess dwell

we’re swallowed up in warm embrace

without a tale to tell

For in the morn when left brain rules 

like brilliant rising sun

the right retreats into the dark

and waits till day is done

To then once more start all anew

and build up worlds of light

that rise and fall as quick as thought

a masterpiece of sleight

But in the end a balance holds

master and commander

the latter bold and blustering

former a bystander

So day and night this life unfolds

in flesh and blood it seems

but when we wake however brief

we see it’s just a dream

(5/8/23)

"How Woke Won"

While we were sleeping

Snug in our beds

Lost in our dreams

A black spirit stole across the land

And by dawn had merged with every shadow

When we awoke

We took for granted the lingering critical sensibility

- as if awaking with a hangover

from the spectacular successes and excesses

of our civilization –

And before our morning cup

Could clear our heads

Had embraced this dark spirit

With the fervor of the newly converted

Impulsively, compulsively taking yin to yang

As if reborn from our primal roots

But when civilization falls

And is abandoned

- and undermining eventually always leads to collapse –

What is left is tribalism

But without the innocence of its youth

And youth without innocence 

Is just tyranny without conscience

Shadow without form

Woke won because we became soft and sloppy 

Ungrateful and guilty for all the pleasures and abundance

the hard work of Life bestows

(5/6/23)

"Master Longchenpa’s Heart Advice"

Master Longchenpa’s heart advice is simple yet profound;

that everything we perceive is our mind’s projection,

and thus delusion,

that everything we experience is in flux, 

temporary and not solidly real,

and thus illusion,

and that the path forward is one of letting go,

lightening up, being less heavy and serious, 

more easy come, easy go…about it ALL.

This is the path of peace, and pristine purity, 

the direct path to complete and perfect enlightenment.

In other words, it doesn’t get more clear and simple

helpful and direct than this.

And yet, as clear and simple as it is,

I am sure the vast majority of people

would not find it satisfying,

would not find it attractive,

would not find it offers enough.

You cannot fix samsara!

Yet that is what samsaric beings are bound to do;

samsara itself being the effect

of their desire to improve 

their lot in Life

the pristine nature of their mind

the mirror-like nature of their experience.

Well then, welcome to samsara.

(4/22/23)

"Being Nobody, Going Nowhere"

People feel something lacking at their core

and worry they are nobody, living meaningless lives.

Depressives dwell on this existential dread

(susceptible then to projecting it outward in paranoid fantasies 

of climate change, gender dysphoria, and political turmoil),

the less privileged just accept it

as the nature of life, the nature of all things.

It all comes down to how big a ball of desire

we bring along as baggage;

the larger the desire, the greater the disappointment

with the lack at our core.

As infants this desire makes up our whole universe.

Once mature, we see our desire as tiny,

infinitesimal in comparison to the rest of life.

And yet, even a small ball of desire can be difficult.

Difficult is always manageable. And difficult can be rewarding.

But the true nature of us, of life, is that we are a nobody,

and that the accomplishment and reward of difficult 

is just another vanity.

Being nobody, going nowhere, Life unfolds naturally,

like the seasons, like the passage of a day.

And although the effortless is not difficult

it has its own rewards.

As Lao Tsu once said:

The wise consider themselves “orphaned,” “widowed,” and “worthless.”

Their humility is the source of their strength.

Too much success is not an advantage…

(4/22/23)