drag the Lotus seed

mom cake

______________________________________________________________

__________________________________________________________________________________

Insideidea Lepidoptera

Insideidea Lepidoptera

the moth clings to the inside of the heart

it is dying to love

the one to which the heart belongs

it cannot fly free because it is afraid

of the idea crawling around inside the mind

of the one to which the mind belongs

the idea has no body;

yet, it crawls and climbs and claws

trying to shred the moth

Yayoi Kusama at the Whitney Museum July 12, 2012  (how very auspicious..)

pink snow boat sailing

Appreciating the Corner

appreciating the corner

 

In the corner is a space

where stacked are bits of other corners

warps and wefts, porous and knocking.

they lean, waiting, quietly subdued,

tilted and jumbled, gathering dust

 

and like grandma’s sofa, wrapped,

in preparation for a celebration.

That crushed velvet never felt

the wind upon it, in her lifetime.

 

But someone somewhere now

might make a raincoat of its covers one day; especially

since it had a built in zipper which

went from corner to corner to corner to corner

 

So similar will

the still filling colors in squares of all sizes and age,

eventually be lit with light or fire;

keeping someone

warm or dry or inspired.

 

They too containing a zipper;

being unseen, unheard, utterly unborn,

with corners in the corner

of the boundless corner.

one more time

 

 

the misery of Archaea and ocean floor disposal

 

Embedded in a meter deep of sediment, at the bottom of the sea,

the ancient thing wags its’ flagella; swimming

through cycles of carbon, nitrogen, and sulphur,

surviving, where it should not be able.

They say “the ocean floor per se”

has no water table.

No flushing through; a perfect disposal place

for radioactive waste

to diffuse through dense clay at a limited rate.

 

The mouth with teeth,

hungry, eat

everything around,

the house, the city, the state, the country

the ocean, the world, the galaxy.

Finally,

swallowing the entire universe,

hungry still it floats, in nothingness,

having no body, no stomach, no heart;

where once it had.

 

Living in polar seas and making up the plankton,

Extremophile Archaea visit

the cousins in volcanoes and sulphuric acid swamps.

The mighty family gathers to celebrate

3.8 billion years and 20% of the Earth’s biomass!

 

“You are happily invited” the announcement said,

and greedily accepting,

we work the party and offer

“by the way, we have this new stuff; it might be good to eat,

so with gratitude we’ll send a torpedofull, to snuggle in the seabed.

You can explore, experiment, try it out and take the time to see,

if you folks survive and flourish there as well; besides,

we really have nowhere else to put it and

need to get it out of the house.”

 

 

Candelabrum

 

Bring that light over here

 

see that cherub in the rainbow suit?

stubbed its toe the other day; hard to walk on it

its wings, neglected, need a little attending

 

Bring that light over here

 

clouds are rolling in; knock on the next door

do you have a cup of sugar to spare?

there’s a visitor visiting

 

Bring that light over here

 

breathe a foggy breath on the window

draw a heart, a monster, an angel

become visible

 

forgotten earthquakes

“Any perception can connect us to reality, properly and fully.
What we see doesn’t have to be pretty, particulary; we can appreciate anything that exists.
There is some prinicple of magic in everything, some living quality.
Something living, something real, is taking place in everything…”-  Chogyam Trungpa

forgotten earthquakes

echolocating colors

of full balloon lady-slipper orchids

so rare

the honey bee fur below your ear;

the stickyness of my jealous mouth

a tenderfoot threshold

 

encouragement

 

the cushion waits there

memory’s, yesterdays, perfume

Live the cold sun-patch

on being a Buddhist at the New Moon in the Year of the Water Dragon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________

something written

(on being a Buddhist at the New Moon in the Year of the Water Dragon)

_____________________________________________________________________

“when you’re dead, you’re dead”

at least in Reality

until then, the blinds will be rolled up, letting in the sunlight

until the moon rises, down they come again;

one may have it today, the other the next

I, however, am alive this minute and will be dead soon.

Not knowing when is shared by everything

with anxiety or surprise.

 

not two, not two,

me and the moon, hanging in the sky

loving with the completeness of Buddha

and with the fearlessness of Jizo

gliding through Hell

freeing all beings;

floating lotus’ on the Dragon’s river

pearls spewed, made in the muck of It’s belly.

__________________________________________