shimmering three

awareness is reflecting

in this entity

of space and time


like sunshine is reflecting

on this shimmering

of body-mind


like tens of trillion nuclear

explosions are enjoying

all this rhythm rhyme.

halloween haiku

as the maple leaves

return to silence—colors

shrieking in the wind

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!

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.

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?

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.

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!

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.

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—


be.

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!

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

source

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.

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.

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