Whew!
Well, I’ve certainly dumped a lot of stuff here over the last couple of days! It’s such a weird thing to take out all this writing and look it over to see what is fit to be seen, what has holes and raggedy, fraying bits around the edges, and what is compeletely moth-eaten and useless. It’s an interesting way to run through my life, out of sequence to be sure, but interesting (maybe more so because it’s all out of sequence, and you know I’m random like that).
I have Martin to thank for posting all of this (hope you enjoy all the new goodies). Kinda feel like I owe you, love since you’ve brought forth so much of your own stuff. There will be more, my pretties. I have books and books full of poetry and in time, I’ll have some of the little stories I’ve done.
I often wonder why I don’t journal. I just can’t seem to do it. It’s such a chore for me to sit down every day or other day and write about … stuff. But I love to write, so why can’t I do it? I have no good answer for that but what I found going through my writing is that this is how I journal. And maybe I’m no good at the other stuff because I don’t like capturing the details of what I think. When I read through my poetry, I don’t necessarily remember exactly what I was doing or wearing or where I was sitting, standing or lying when I wrote but I remember where I was.
That current of feeling is still there. That moment in my heart echoes within me. I can trace all of my feelings about all kinds of things through my writing. In some pieces I can hear how old I was but in others I don’t hear that at all.
… I’m not sure I have a direction here. Just interesting thoughts as I was putting together my stuff. And I’m so very grateful to you guys for coming here, reading a bit and letting me know what you think. 
bodhisattva
watching the drop of clear dew
turn to red flame with the
new born sun
brightest moment before death
it evaporates
hands touching in
the moment of forever
more fleeting than tears
essence of it
remains for lifetimes
how the lotus glows
among dark water plants
against the surface of
the pond
beauty aching for light
inspired by the mud
at its roots
watching the master
in meditation
immovable as the dark
fragile as a breeze
the peace of
inspiration
writing a thousand
lines
only to discover a word
that is less
than the mind
more than the universe
aum
(June 3, 2004)
In memory
Why do I write about love?
Ah, if you knew him, you would know
The sighs that move through my blood
The depth of his imperfection
The mess of a life we have made
He is my all
Pretentious and quaint it sounds
from lips bruised with cursing
his name
Through the valleys of time
he has run behind
and ahead of me
fading like twilight
into darkness
How we have loved
gloriously, abysmally
in and out of the void
stripping each other of fleshy humanity
embracing unforgiving divinity
endearing madness for the
purpose of slaking our thirst
endless, dizzying, soaring
What is this dance glorified
by others
embraced in song and word?
Oh, child. Child.
The fire in my body
would ravage the
sweetness of your face
were I to tell
Your innocence would
slink away to die
in the face of the
Crimes that love commits
I write to be free
of the webs and snares
he has set, like
traps for rats in this mouldy
Cavern of life
He challenges me to be free!
That I may cleave through
the waters of the illusion
The damnable boy
He is well worthy of love
(July 15, 2003)
weeping
my heart is weeping and its tears
are these lines that I write
to keep my head up when I feel alone
to hold my flesh together when my
spirit abandons me to sorrow
i hold dreams and visions in my hand
but they are not to be
i worked them into the soil of my
conscious thought and watered them
with my hopes
but the land is hard and barren here
dry as dust, dead as salt
shall I shoulder my rake and
walk North to the promise of new
lights and Tomorrow?
I fear to put my pen away lest
the life blood of my happiness run
dry as the page that accepts my
thoughts without question
and so I write
(February 13, 2004)
The last walk
I have been bedecked in brilliant gems, my mind in a vacant stupour
Had gold flowing through my hands and been poor in my generosity
Received my share of praise and blame
But in the end all is made even – Karma
Only here for a season, so brief a time
I must go Home, just like every body – Dharma
The purple velvet of Twilight holds me gently
As a babe rocked to sleep in mother’s love
Stars peep out and kiss my fears
And waves sing me the eternal lullabye
My silver footsteps tread moonbeams toward Rest
No gold or trinket follows me here
Accolades reduce to whispers; rebukes come to naught – Peace
I return, without burdens, to Mother Earth and Father Sky
And dance the rhythm of forever – Aum
(2001)
He
Who knew?
Whispered desires from mind to mind
Fire and heat
Between our eyes
Secrets in the palms of our hands
And love.
There is always that.
He took me close and I felt him shiver
The realness of him, my heart racing
He traced the outline of my lips and began it
We dissolved into molten rock, pulsing, fiery
Twisted and slow – tortured
To the finest airs
Lighter than purity
On clouds of effulgence
He reached in
And made me speed up
The heights of that passion
Driving me
Tormenting me
Holding something just beyond my reach
His eyes bored into mine
Down to the infinite depths
And held me on the pinnacle of forever
My heart was opened
To the glittering countenance
of all that Is
I am that I am.
Know me.
Voice. Sound.
Splintering shards of crystal in harmony
Piercing with a joy sharper
Than all the wrought pain
I had brought in my hand
He moved
And at last loosed the
Arrow that exploded with heat and life
Weapon to undo me – and make me new
I opened my eyes
His own
Soft, liquid
A butterfly kiss on a trembling soul
He held me gently, hurtfully
Sobbing on my shoulder
But pain too my love is part of this
Gift
My arms, a patient bay
His wounded spirit took shelter
Veil of his pride torn
He drifted into me
To give and to receive
To be unbound. To be wounded.
To love.
(May 29, 2003)
Son of earth and sky
I heard you wake at dawn
And followed your steps
To the edge of the desert
Watched you stand with
Arms flung out to embrace
The sun and the wind
My brilliant desert prince,
Son of earth and sky
I walked the desolation
Thirsting for someone’s love
Knowing it would only be
My own that could save me
When you rose out of the sand
To salve my wounds with
Your hands of healing
Son of earth and sky
You greeted the moon alone
Singing the song of night
Shirt billowing out behind
You stepped from myth
Your head crowned with stars
And eyes that told me the truth
From your heart of love
Son of earth sky
(January 18, 2004)
mythic
in that mythic corner of my mind
I’ve sculpted your face out of air and hope
coloured your eyes with the first light of evening
and left your voice that silken rope
where did you go when you walked away?
when can I show you my work of art?
you left me with that parting smile of tomorrow
that whispered secrets to my heart
the sun has touched your soul with light
the bonds that hold us are finer than air
our spirits dance in the fields of the stars
your tears of blessing sink into my hair
pale moon rises above waters on the rim
a lonely ship passes from my view
the mariner wears a white star on his brow
all times run together when I walk with you
waves lap the walls of night sighing endlessly
forgotten creatures watch with sorrow in their eyes
the unicorn and the dragon await in hope
the winged horse glides us to enfolding skies
you turn to me and brush my weeping heart
with the laughter that I have come to know so well
‘it is meant to be’, you whisper softly fading
one last touch, on which my memory will dwell
so I weave a dream with finest grace
that your steps will remember their way back to me
and sew in tiny drops of love and hope
believing that it is indeed meant to be
(January 21, 2004)
Living meditation
I thought I had a problem
a line
a fixed event in the space of time, in the flow of work, of life
my mind plumbed the depths
I saw it anew
a shining, formless thing
hanging in the space where my tranquility use to be
shimmering softly
calling my mind’s attention to it
eating up the peace that I had cornered for myself
there, was the mistake – peace is eternal
not only without but all through the delicate crystalline structure before me
yet I saw an adversary there
one whom I had imagined to be against me
saw my thoughts swirling about them with
heavy toxicity, impairing them, hurting them
weapons in my protection from perceived attacks
their thoughts, thieves weaving in and out of my mind
poisoning my happiness – stealing away my strength
this ruinous play held my attention away from peace
making me forgetful, sleepy, stupid, numb
open only to battle
all contained in this one structure
of many dimensions more than three
in the struggle there was a kind of beauty
a deadly, bladed thing to be marvelled at
cutting, slicing, rending and wrenching apart
the beauty of destruction
for so are we found
I did not understand, was not in a space of understanding, only observation
‘child’
across aeons of time, through myriad forms of space dust
‘oh, take heed little one’
within the shining formless form, my mind ceased to fight, to defend
turned as if blind, seeking the source of light
the barbs and slings of the other missed now, futile for all their strength
war makes us mighty, does it not?
fell scattering through oblivion
mind sensed the otherness of the conflict and the oneness in being
but little mind, it could not understand
could only weep for time lost, happiness spent, a body broken, a heart laid out in ashes
battles and contentions come to naught
ambitions, fierce pride worn away by waves of ceaselessness
and peace like a river
coursing through eating conflict, resolving nothing, rendering no truce
peace that simply is, peace all around
dissolving the problem, salving the mind, comforting the weary warrior
reaching in
touched the warrior, opened my eyes to the living world
no problem, no thought, new as dawn
praising what we are
(November 14, 2003)
Muse
the muse descends in tattered wings
to brush my tired head with silvery fantasies
of places I will never go to meet creatures I will never see
spinning, colliding and swirling
he entices me to send all of my thoughts
to the realm of the imagined
in a rocking boat on a purple sea
with a talking unicorn and a bat
flying into outer space
to talk to god who wears
a spacesuit and speaks jive
‘leave me!’ I cry and
so he goes
and I am left within beige walls
in the centre of a green lawn
on a grey street in Toronto
working the way that people work
eating each other with words
because they lack the courage
to be real
using their jobs as an excuse to
be inhuman, as a reason to feast
on the spiritual fat of their brothers
the only gifts are trees
and strangers
for neither has an interest in me
and both give me joy
‘muse!’ I cry to him
take me away!
and like a stubborn wench he sneers aloft
‘muse!’
echoes into the greyness
and as night slips into the crevices of my mind
crooning sleep
he touches me softly on my cheek
and wakes my mind to dancing with
sunflowers in fields of pink paisley
I skip through streets of water skimming
along on fairies’ wings
we sing arias in g minor bawdily
until he dumps me back to myself
staring at candle stumps sputtering out
and refuses to be called again
(November 14, 2003)
