there's nothing else

this web has caught too many thoughts—

the spit of politics and drool of naked tongues are publishing their comments left and right.

what would robinson jeffers do?

seven turkey vultures are massed in a tree, their raw pink heads just waiting for some unintended crucifixion—

they will have their bone to pick!

but on a lovely thread that falls away from time itself, some lovers talk of love and nothing—

there's nothing else.


halloween haiku

as the maple leaves

return to silence—colors

shrieking in the wind


enjoy the hay

The problem is not enjoyment; the problem is attachment. ~Tilopa
The ocean is not very far away if you know how to flow. ~Osho

between the poles of religious myth and scientific materialism lies nothing.

it's midnight; do you know where your avatar is?

any word spoken now is love; words spoken from memory are just zombie thoughts in slow decay.

but every word i write is in a movement towards never writing another word.

the fog above the river is of the river but not the river.

such variety and abundance will appear confusing when concentrating on one particular aspect; so forget the needle and enjoy the hay!

accept everything. attach to nothing. enjoy all as one.

in a world of ten thousand miracles occurring every ten-thousandth second, holding onto a single one is not greedy; it's just blind stupidity.

love is not an effort; love is the opposite of effort; love is the complete acceptance of one and all.

in complete acceptance of one and all, one and all disappears, and the bliss of nothing remains.

just same of the more.


o lila the poem

o lila the leaves!
o lila the fall!
o lila the time!
o lila the call!

o lila the sun!
o lila the ray!
o lila the red!
o lila the play!

o lila the wind!
o lila the dance!
o lila the turn!
o lila the trance!

o lila the sky!
o lila the ground!
o lila the sight!
o lila the sound!

o lila the snow!
o lila the white!
o lila the glow!
o lila the light!

real reading

this is *not* it, if 'it' is filtered through thought

most people who read only think they read

real reading is an act of love

most readers have been trained to challenge the text rather than accept it

note that accepting the text does not indicate one need to believe the text; challenging and believing are just different facets of thinking

one first accepts the text in order to understand the text; if the text is true, the real you will tell you so

as said in the gospel of thomas, truth will first disturb, then amaze, and finally reign over all


say the word

all words descend

from one word:


so many permutations

and so many once-removeds,

there's a dictionary full

of impostors

and wannabes

and woebegone forgottens.

it all becomes

so much simpler

when you realize

the translation of any word

(minus the unnecessary complexity)

is simply love.

in the beginning was the word.


saving my original face

nothing is out there

everything is in i am

compassion is self-concern

love is the right hand naturally joining the left hand _/|\_

being is the body of reality

wisdom is Self-intelligence

love is the mind of the absolute

don't make thoughts; make love


not only is it a story, but saying that it's a story is a story

this reality seems so real, it's hard to see it isn't

i'm saving my original face for halloween

pull-up socks; tie sneakers

pump heart, drive car

circle sun, look for parking space

are we having none yet?


gather 1

The world is a thought thought by a thought.

But what I am has never been a thought.

Unthinkable but always there behind this thought—

this truth shines its truth when thought stops thinking.


purpose shmurpose verse

reality has no purpose;

love has no purpose;

purpose is a red herring

in the pulp fiction of your memory.

anything done on purpose

is already done

before it's done

so nothing is done.

reality does

the unknown

in the name

of love.

there's one purpose

in the paradox of life

without a purpose:

wake up!

love is causeless;

all the rest have more

than ten thousand and thirty-one,

except compassion

which is also causeless.

my 'i am'

and your 'i am'

are the same 'i am.'

one and all together,

it's called love.



and be.

the rest:

wait and see.

beware of any truth

that thinks

it is the highest truth;

that's not truth

but just another religion.

there is only

the one good book:


read its silence today.

this is the first line of the rest of this verse.

bye bye sweet duress,

hello emptiness.

there’s a point when it takes such an effort

to play the role of yourself

or watch the play itself

that the curtains close

all by themselves.


that self-preserving poem

o samsara!

o you piece of intricate bullshit!

o you never-ending stream of self-deceiving selfishness!

o you sleeping behemoth

gone slouching to bizarro bethlehem

in little buddha bumper cars!

o emptiness

so madly full of nothing

but that self-preserving thought you call yourself

in constant wars of great denial of

said emptiness!

just say i love you.


houston, there's a koan in my poem

hello? hello? any who home?

     ground control to major major.

houston, there's a catch-22 in my koan.

     all your words are breaking up.

since you’ve always been the moon, how can you ever point to it?

     you must objectify in binary; nonduality does not compute.

space is just that something in the middle of your face.

     time is something nonexistent that we think is of the essence.

consciousness is blowing in the wind.

     are you or are you not still working on maggie’s farm?

space is emptiness but not the light.

     the naked city has six billion causes.

toto, i have a feeling we’re not in thinking any more.

     i could be god if i only had a heart.

love is never having to say

if a tree falls within a forest, do you love it whether it makes a sound or not?

do you love the wind blowing or the flag flying or the mind moving? or none of the above?

if a train leaves los angeles at nine and another train leaves atlanta at eleven, do you love three?

if love was a mirror and the world its reflection, who would you love?

if you love to love a cause, and everything is either causeless or the result of untold causes, what cause will you tell yourself you love?

if freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, then is love just that wordless absolute with all the world to give?

just one big game of tag

just understand; there's no need to try to be a saint

in fact, understanding is all you can do, because you really can't do anything but

you are, in some degree, bipolar

from one extreme to another. been there and done that.

bipolarity is merely the uncertain world of thought, but the more lost in it, the greater the swings

and the greater the swing, the more necessary the snap

and if the snap doesn't kill you, then the truth will

because sooner or later, whether it's some snap or some time, the person called you will cease to exist

but that existence beyond the person called you is always existing

not that it will do you any good; it will do you and do away with you; in the end you're it

just one big game of tag and you're always running away from being it

tag! you're it!

ps don't think about it


does your reflection in the mirror make a poem?

we are not meant to be anything.

meaning is a plaything of the mind.

we be.

being is a reflection of that

which is neither being nor nonbeing

but beyond.

so call it beyond.

beyond! beyond!

o wild beyond!

o that beyond this thought.

beyond this world of consciousness.

beyond equality of all there is in being.

beyond the body. beyond the mind. beyond intelligence.

beyond beyond!

but not beyond its love.

today the leaves are changing colors;

tomorrow the trees will lose their leaves.

next week all trees shall leave

and then next month no words remain.

how wonderful that all remains the same!

(does your reflection in the mirror make a bang?)

after the last leaf fell,

love grew on every branch.

i felt it through the picture window.

if you meet this poem on the road, kill it.

so tired

so tired of irony; it's just thought trying to do paradox; isn't that ironic!

so tired of there's nothing to do because this is it; because as long as you're thinking this is it, it isn't, so there's something to don't

so tired of affirmations because reality doesn't need to be affirmed

so tired of buddhist drama; so much crap swirling about so much emptiness

so tired of nonduality; just say one

so tired of being tired; who's tired? what's awake?



love is now and you are so tomorrow

if thought is obviously incapable of knowing the transcendent truth, why are you thinking about it?

isn't thinking about the unthinkable just downright stupid?

then what is the alternative to thinking?

philosophies are all about thinking and religions are all about believing; where does that leave You?

it's so obviously overused but unfortunately misunderstood; but love, as you may have heard in some distant song, is all there is

love is that nothing you can't pin a thought on

love is that way you find yourself going despite all the thoughts that say not to go

love is that irrational direction

love is that undeniable that can't be denied

love is simply truth in action and you are merely a thought in its way

love is now and you are so tomorrow

everything you fear is love



we interrupt this stream for an important rock

whitewater whitewater whitewater whitewater whitewater whitewater nowater whitewater whitewater whitewater whitewater

the apostle's creed: be if you can; co-opt if you must

maybe an epilogue to previously unending series: but thought is one unending conglomeration of forgetful energy of which we (as thought) are

never -ism; it makes an object out of nothing

look; whatever. if you can say it, it ain't it. if it's comforting, forget it. if you want to teach it, wait one thousand years. otherwise

beware of any thought that tells you it's not a thought

this is a tricky landscape; watch out for anyone saying watch out!

first thought; your thought. but you're not a thought.

all ants spread the word: no grasshoppers!


Mary Christ Dakini

O Mary Magdalene, apostle of apostles,

loving mystic witness of our death and resurrection,

Christ Dakini,

here occur to us and teach your paradox of feminine

and masculine uniting in the truth transcendent,

emerging from the centuries of ignorant

paternalistic western sado-masochism masked as true religion

into now, this moment soft with love in being,

now receiving, now accepting, now

in understanding of your true surrender,

not to then or there, but hand in hand with Jesus now

to bliss and consciousness and spirit,

emptiness in cognizance,

the kingdom and the queendom of

our god the mother and the father,

loving energetic true

orgasmic miracle of one,

of one, of one!

letting go the string

religions poorly translate words of wisdom into the language of samsara, and then forget it's a translation. thus truth becomes myth.

my deity is being; my mantra is ‘i am;” my contemplation is affectionate awareness

if you care what the world thinks, you will think like the world thinks. rather, care for the world and don't think.

most thought is like the detritus of love long gone that collects in the collective mind, slowly deteriorating and devolving into anti-love.

thought is the refuse of mind; love is the nature of mind.

don't hold on to thought; use it when necessary, and then let it go. the mind is self-cleaning.

there's nothing you can do but understand and that's not a thing you really do

to understand, one needs to see without prejudice or judgment, as crystal clear as a crystal clear day

in other words, it's not what you do that understands; it's what you don't do

and it's not you as thought that understands, but You, Reality, that always understands, that *is* Understanding

you just allow the cloud of you to fly away by letting go the string of some great dark sky-wide thought balloon and understanding shines

don't practice; don't try; don't do all the things you've been taught to do. just understand; the rest will follow naturally.

endnote: in truth, understanding is just the other side of that great coin of love; its motto is therefore also 'see, accept, transform.'


potentiality in particular

It's time to give thanks and leave our personal caves.

let the sunshine, let the living, let being be.

what more than this?

all else is diversion, division, the great divide.

entertainment is an exit.

there's only one real star on earth and that's the sun.

there's only one director in the universe and that be you.

thought will always seek another thought.

every thought is just desire not to be in general and a fear of nothing in particular.

but being is nothing in general and all potentiality in particular.

being is; end of story.


LA Truth picturized

Layout: by Patty LaPlante; Photo: "Mirage" by billyunderscorebwa

an omnipresent geography

o be! existence!

that which cannot be denied!

for here and now i am.

not this i am nor what i am

and not the thought i am

but that essential seed i am.

no identity of noun

and no possessiveness of pronoun

but a movement just before

the silent space becomes a verb—

that dawn before the dawn,

when sky is not the sky but not the night,

when sun is not yet in the east

but somewhere where it's always been,

some timeless time zone

in a longitude of love

and latitude of an omnipresent

geography of god knows where!

there! i am! o be!


something passing

nothing real was ever wrong

but that you only thought it wrong,

and even that which thought it wrong

was just a thought that thought it wrong,

and not a thought is even wrong

for thought is something passing—

never something real which could be wrong,

for only something never changing is the real

and nothing real is ever wrong.


Merton's Moment

I am able to approach the Buddhas barefoot and undisturbed, my feet in wet grass, wet sand. Then the silence of the extraordinary faces. The great smiles. Huge and yet subtle. Filled with every possibility, questioning nothing, knowing everything, rejecting nothing, the peace not of emotional resignation but of Madhyamika, of sunyata, that has seen through every question without trying to discredit anyone or anything – without refutation – without establishing some argument. For the doctrinaire, the mind that needs well established positions, such peace, such silence, can be frightening.

I was knocked over with a rush of relief and thankfulness at the obvious clarity of the figures, the clarity and fluidity of shape and line, the design of the monumental bodies composed into the rock shape and landscape, figure rock and tree. And the sweep of bare rock slopping away on the other side of the hollow, where you can go back and see different aspects of the figures. Looking at these figures I was suddenly, almost forcibly, jerked clean out of the habitual, half-tied vision of things, and an inner clearness, clarity, as if exploding from the rocks themselves, became evident and obvious. The queer evidence of the reclining figure, the smile, the sad smile of Ananda standing with arms folded (much more “imperative” than Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa because completely simple and straightforward).

The thing about all this is that there is no puzzle, no problem and really no “mystery.” All problems are resolved and everything is clear, simply because what matters is clear. The rock, all matter, all life is charged with dharmakaya… everything is emptiness and everything is compassion. I don’t know when in my life I have ever had such a sense of beauty and spiritual validity running together in one aesthetic illumination. Surely, with Mahabalipuram and Polonnaruwa my Asian pilgrimage had become clear and had purified itself. I mean, I know and have seen what I was obscurely looking for. I don’t know what else remains, but I have now seen and have pierced through the surface and have got beyond the shadow and the disguise.

... It says everything, it needs nothing. And because it needs nothing it can afford to be silent, unnoticed, undiscovered. It does not need to be discovered. It is we... who need to discover it.

~Thomas Merton (from 'Asian Journals of Thomas Merton')

from director to nobody

driving through the connecticut river valley in nh this afternoon: old houses, ramshackle barns, cut corn fields, sparkling river, vt hills!

colorful oranges and yellows but many trees still lime green and perfect blue october sky with that certain slant of autumn dazzling light.

mesmerizing manifested wondrous beauty of unbelievable mindstuff impossible to comprehend so eyes just drool with almost tears & look see!

when thought asks this question: why does a magnificent landscape sometimes appear more loving with an old house or barn in the foreground?

& thought answers itself: the observer of this scenery is a dream character which is just a thought & appreciates a thought within its view.

in other words, thought needs another thought within its vicinity to keep it company & give the wilderness of consciousness a familiar face.

so all of that scenery was prologue to this: can awareness really awaken to itself when thought is immersed within its world of thought?

is some kind of monastic separation necessary? not necessarily a monastery. or hermitage. or even complete solitude. but some kind of refuge

& by refuge, it's not pointing to some religious refuge in belief, texts or congregation but an honest to goodness separation from the world

some separation that kindles that freedom, that grace, that blessing, that reality, that that of being in the world but not of the world.

because when immersed in thought, thought just loves to keep on thinking; it is what it is. & moments of meditation can't ungap that bridge.

i feel no coincidence a need for busy-ness (or business) in usa; it's self-preservation of thought and usa is just a thought!

& the massive mass entertainment world around us in usa is nothing but thought enabling thought: tv movies fiction & nonfiction (the worst!)

and then there's the thought of spiritual thought which just might be the most enslaving thought of them all. all those dream state coaches!

between the rock of religion and the hard place of business, where can awareness catch a break from the tyranny of thought?

that is the real question that a 21st century hamlet needs to address. it's really not to be or not to be. it's first how to know to be.

everything in our environment is stacked against 'to be.' it's seen up close and personal in those near and dear. it's heart-breaking.

in gratitude for the circumstances of the past several years. from director to nobody (ah, emily!). roll credits. maharshi to maharaj.


only the evergreen

quoth the crow, i'm not a raven

sooner or later, if you were brought up christian & then found yourself to be a seeker, you're going to have to hug it out with jesus

in the worldly divide between china & tibet, the usa chose china; that tells you more about this nation & its future than you need to know

looking at all the greenery on both banks of the river before the coming frost; only the evergreen will make it through december

wisdom! don't think about it.

being that this prayer is thought invested in the me-thought requesting that the no-thought of its Self manifest as love within its being.

sacrifice! thank you.

"      " ~awareness


how to (a catechismic poem)

how does love write a poem when the mind is grasping at the pen?

we write with the heart and follow its freedom on the page.

how to avoid the fear and horror of the void the divided mind avoids?

we write from the void; the unitary heart discerns it's nothing to engage

the source of everything named anything,

the source of any concept we call source,

the source of what we think is mind,

the source of what we know is love,

the source of universe and superstring,

the source of Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Rishis,

source unmanifest, the source of sources,

source! of course! O Source!


in that dwelling

blessed is being knowing being

for that shall know there's nothing else to know;

there's nothing to one's mind but what one thinks there is,

there's nothing to one's sense of self except the sense of self one thinks there is,

there's nothing to the universe of matter but the whole wide world of miscellaneous things one thinks matter:

all there is is, being aware of being, awareness being awareness;

say it any way the way your way will have you say it,

say it gloriously in song or say it knowingly in silence but after saying it just stop & settle down and in that dwelling—



wondering at the movie

in the morning i awaken

and the movie starts

by wondering about the movie

that was playing in the movie

of my sleep.

afternoon the movie continues

to a scene in which the movie star

is wondering at the movie

in which he plays a movie star

& wonders.

in the evening there's a movie

in which the movie is the movie star

and all the world within,

his and her own camera,

lights and action!


and no one said i am

verily i tweet unto you this very night with some very good news. for beneath the wine-darkened clouds, a star is born.

and their instant karma created teas and lots of other stuff to hang your hat upon. but i say unto you there is no reason. just stories.

you may not be surprised to hear there is no plot. but verily the characters have disappeared as well! as for the setting, it changes.

the message is written clearly in the sky as if that's the only why it's there. see the sun. see the sun sear the sea. see the crazy clouds.

and lo! to houston there came much problems. and to the rest of the lesser known world as well. their name was adam. their name was eve.

they sing their song but they know not who is singing. their song is sad but they know not why they sing.

and someone said who am i. and no one said i am. & the bush was glowing & the river was flowing & the seed was sowing & the tree was growing

and the clouds were parting and the sun was shining and the stars were singing for loving is knowing is being & that is all ye need to know

being wisdom love

not activity but Being! not knowledge but Wisdom! not thought but Love! these are the three Truths

three truths: being wisdom love

three modes of truth: positive negative transformative

three modes of love: love compassion forgiveness

three modes of wisdom: intelligence intuition paradox

three modes of being: being deepsleep sacrifice


thoughts try to create an alternative world, inevitably fail, and then new thoughts bemoan the failure: woe is thought

thought never sees the world as is because it's always trying to see another one, but love sees. that's its primary nature: seeing.

thoughts reject; love accepts. that is not to say thought is bad or useless...when utilized appropriately, i.e. to reject the false

there's a paradox in all of that, but what else is new

logic can only bring you so far; love will need to take you the rest of the way

logic is human-made and so it works well in this world. but love is a reflection of the absolute. it will draw you in...

not that there are two worlds of course. more paradox. thought thinks there is; love knows there isn't.

love loves paradox

paradox is innately transformative, as is forgiveness and sacrifice

these 3 modes of Wisdom, Love, and Being function in the neutral zone and are always moving back and forth between the 2 poles of duality

that's why you can't pin them down; they are illogical by nature; forgive? sacrifice? paradox? there's no sense in them.

but they are the highest energy of the absolute working in the relative, and so are highly transformative

so how did i get here from there? sacrificed my original intent. paradoxical in and of itself. but i forgive myself.


going to be

there is no being good because there is no good or bad; there's only being

but most religions have it bad for being good

even love is sometimes misunderstood as being good; but love is being being

many people try to be good or try to love but there is no trying in being

one doesn't try being; one is being

although being may try you and find you don't really fit

that's when you may discover you aren't really you

when you aren't you any longer, who are you going to be?

when you aren't who you think you are, who are you going to be?

when you is no longer a viable pronoun, who are you going to be?

when you can't ask the question 'who are you going to be,' there's only 'to be.' hamlet exits stage.

red leaves

see and receive in a sea of simplicity without a previous belief interfering in the wonder that one now sincerely so sees

i'm told cecil taylor gives his sidemen the first and last notes and tells them to get there; we have one note, consciousness: be there

we are tmi

my practice is actually nondual duality because i know my limits

red leaves are not red leaves

the plural is strictly personal

the individual is nothing of its kind

quality is just a comparison of here and now with there and then

but love is the essence of self-existence

and i love those red leaves

translation: if the body falls in a forest and there's not a single identifying thought about it, are you really dying?


a bedtime prayer

o here i lie

naked of form

and silently open

waiting for the rush of night

to madly love me

into everlasting day


a leaf falls and the leaf is mourned until the branch is seen as source of leaves

a branch falls and the branch is mourned until the tree is seen as source of branch

a tree falls and the tree is mourned until the earth is seen as source of tree

the earth falls and the earth is mourned until the universe is seen as source of earth

the universe falls and the universe is mourned until nothing is seen as source of universe

nothing falls and nothing is mourned

because the moon

because the moon loves the earth,

the pleasure boats docked on this river

begin to rise

because the sun loves this river,

fish are jumping for joy

to dry their eyes

you are

everything in the world

is your child

not excepting the person

you think you are

if you're thinking it,

you're not being it;

if you're being it,

you're not being;

if you're being,

you're not not;

if you're not,

you are

and then there was water,

and a cormorant diving,

and sailless saiboats sitting

in the stillness of no wind


bringing in the light

transcendental panthers are perambulating jungles mixed among the mill yards in the darkest corners of my mind.

somewhere there’s a turbine turning. somewhere there’s a monkey typing. somewhere there’s a song without a single lyric or a suicidal note.

it’s singing in the silence, bringing in the light, and raising up the curtains to unknowable delight.

i’d tell you all about it or draw a face or two, but it’s famously unspeakable and blacker than the night.

reality training

Parents are more blessed than cursed, in that they have had some intuitive training when it comes to action from the nondual mind.

But the curse of possessiveness comes with parenting as well: MY child. This is from what most children ultimately rebel. Nuff said on that.

The nondual mind training that the parent receives comes in the nurturing element that parenting brings. Parent and child as one.

If you follow that training further, one can see that there is no parent person or child person but no one but one.

If you take off the training wheels and face reality, you see there are no persons anywhere but only one reality that is manifested as love.

For nurturing is nothing but the manifestation of reality as love for itself.

This nurturing is what most religions speak to in their golden rules and noble truths, etc, etc, etc.

But they either hide what lies behind it or have entirely forgotten.

But the fact of the matter is such nurturing, such love, arises only in a nondual consciousness.

To leave that fact out is a great error, and leads to further suffering.

The goal should be, as much as there is anything like a goal, is to recover/uncover one’s original state of nondual consciousness.

The goal etc etc cannot be to act as if one has recovered/uncovered nondual consciousness.

Unless one realizes one is acting in training for the real goal.

And parents are blessed because they've already had some reality training for that kind of acting.

nothing permanent

nothing is etched in stone, not even stone

root power!

when you see there's nothing permanent, you see there is no you seeing

the thought of me is all of me

when you see there's nothing permanent, you see there is no you seeing

ask not what do i think but know what is felt

dream state or imagi nation

what a day for a daydream!

in the land of fern and mountain laurel, the pine needle is king

let the mind be a servant to love as the world is manifested from reality

seeing all clearly is love; accepting things as they are is love; letting love transform what is seen and accepted is being

nothing up my sleeve

i am the green leaf turning red.

i am the eye without a head.

i am the dew point underdone.

i am the ever-present sun.

i am the world within the rain.

i am the resurrecting cain.

i am an adam and an eve.

i am the nothing up my sleeve.

i am the clarity of now.

i am the pure before the pow.


Let it Reign

The mind of God

is like the clear

October sky

in which a film of personal

accumulated cumuli

is screened by clouds we name an I.

great and thoughtful

the mind admires itself to pieces.

the mind will pay any price,

bear any burden,

fight any foe

in order to defend

its great and thoughtful

creation of itself

right here right now a simple poem

in that

the universe is truly

three dimensions

here and now and bliss

and all are bursting through

one consciousness

as space and time and love

with nothing less to rhyme below

or reason more above

than this:

don’t forget the bliss

Some Mystical Poetry Notes

About a month ago, an interest in writing poetry began to rekindle itself here. It’s not as if it had completely disappeared because it always smolders. But the urge was again being felt. Interestingly enough, soon after this recognition, some remarkable quotes were discovered in an article ‘Poetry and Wisdom’ by Bruno Barnhart (which is worth reading in itself) and were duly posted on the tumbler ‘son rivers not 2’ quotes and links blog. But they should really be here, with some discussion, and that’s the reason for this post.

The first quote is from Bede Griffiths (from Pathways to the Supreme):
Both poetry and mysticism spring from the depths of the soul beyond the senses, but whereas the poet seeks to embody his experience of this inner mystery in words and images, the mystic seeks to go beyond word and thought to experience the hidden mystery from which all words and thoughts are derived.

There is a nice sense of the source here, but I question the either/or. Embodiment is an integral part of the mystical process. In the beginning, Nisargadatta would call it the test. In the end, who knows?

The next quote is by Jacques Maritain from his book, ‘creative intuition in art an poetry’:
Poetic experience brings the poet back to the hidden place, at the single root of the powers of the soul, where the entire subjectivity is, as it were, gathered in a state of expectation and virtual creativity. Into this place he enters, not by any effort of voluntary concentration, but by a recollection, fleeting as it may be, of all the senses, and a kind of unifying repose which is like a natural grace, a primordial gift, but to which he has to consent, and which he can cultivate, first of all by removing obstacles and silencing concepts….In such a spiritual contact of the soul with itself, all the sources are touched together, and the first obligation of the poet is to respect the integrity of this original experience. Any systematic denial of any of the faculties involved would be a sort of self-mutilation. Poetry cannot be reduced to a mere gushing forth of images separated from intelligence, any more than to a discursus of logical reason…

There is so much mystical intelligence in this quote that it’s worth rereading and rereading. It is more a spiritual practice. After all, “removing obstacles and silencing concepts” is what it’s all about. There is still a dual presence here but poetry almost demands that paradox (Merton will address that later). But there is a unitive consciousness as well where “the integrity of this original experience” is recognized, and from that recognition arises a nondual intelligence that Whitman alludes to in a more mystical manner (unfortunately Maritani’s walk does not exactly match his talk when lecturing): “Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes...?” Whitman understands it is impossible to “cipher and show me to a cent, / Exactly the contents of one, and exactly the contents of two, and which is ahead.” No, the answer comes: see and accept all equally and then write the poem.

The last quote is from Thomas Merton:
Poetry can, indeed, help to bring us rapidly through that early part of the journey to contemplation that is called active; but when we are entering the realm of true contemplation, where eternal happiness is tasted in anticipation, poetic intuition may ruin our rest in God “beyond all images.”

Now this is a much different intelligence speaking. Merton is truly the mystic and understands the sacrifice involved in the act of mystic poetry. It's not exactly the either/or that Griffiths speaks to, but an all or nothing. Poetry can be a help in the beginning, where the process is still active or dual. But what of true contemplation, true meditation, where thoughts and images interfere with the taste of the absolute? Barnhart writes and quotes:
Having faithfully established the principle, however, Merton turns from this vision of an unforgiving straight ascent toward spiritual repose, to imagine several different possible ‘vocations,’ among them that “a man should remain at the same time a mystic and a poet and ascend to the greatest heights of poetic creation and of mystical prayer without any evident contradiction between them.”

Merton’s essay (Poetry and Contemplation: A Reappraisal) would need to be read in its entirety before an intelligent comment on Merton’s conclusion can be made, but it does raise an interesting query. But I would conclude that writing poetry is another form of chopping wood and carrying water: there is something in the survival process that requires words as well as tea. Call it the Bodhisattva Call.

here now squared

the mind is a nice place to visit but you wouldn't want to live there

the absolute is manifested as physical presence; awareness is manifested as pure love. but the timeless becomes time and memories, mind.

the absolute mass of presence is here; the timeless speed of light is now; the energy of awareness is love

love equals here now squared

right here, right now, now love