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. 🙂

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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)