The Ease of Evening
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
I am, by this poem and all others,
Going somewhere else,
To deeply feel between the words and phrases,
Between and within. Words are sacred, we know that.
Yet there is something even more sacred, even more
And so an invitation, solemn and serene,
To breathe deeply (and slowly) between each stanza,
Pause completely (and for long, for long) at the end of each line,
Feel around the back and sides of each word
I send you
Into a fullness of silence,
A place of perfect presence,
A knowing stillness,
A deeper sense,
Saturday, April 27, 2013
In the winter-time, in
You stay huddled in the city
Safe amidst the salt and slush - the
Hamster’s wheel metro a mere two blocks
It is only when Spring
Breaks upon the land, like a golden egg,
And the threat of ice and snow recedes
That you venture forth with
Seek the hawthorn and alder tangle,
The grace of maple-blessed hillsides.
Oh! Receive me, sweet Mother that is the land!
Or you head South,
Pretend you feel at home there.
Pretend it’s better.
Still, you’re waiting
For Winter’s well-known imperatives
To melt away,
Monday, April 22, 2013
When to this world some madness seems to cling,
Old words of war, old hatreds violence bring,
Or to the world itself seems damage made
Now dam-held flow, now fear where children played.
Then ours is not to weakly weep and sigh.
The answer known from birth until we die;
That all that seems without is yet within,
That all the world’s our body, sky our skin.
And ours a power larger than the sun,
To speak our will, for by our will be done
All works of earth, of rock and wall and gate;
The world expressed. Our saying is our fate.
Thus speak from deep within of glorious day;
We make the unending world by what we say.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Oh, song of night, create outspoken day
And it shall spring from nothingness the way
That all-that-is is only for its not.
For this we know, thought it was never taught,
That in sweet bloom, the fruit begins to rot,
The bubbling stew contained by metal pot,
And birds’ free flight informs our earthiness.
What’s more is more when something else is less,
See, in some hurrying figure, stillness lies.
The largely laughing man hides infant’s cries.
Clean mountains draw from clustered dusty plain,
As sanity builds walls with the insane.
So sing! Spontaneous dream in unfelt, unknown night
Begins the world again; from dark flows light.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Ideas grow like lilies in the Spring.
From somewhere deep within, the mind can bring
One vision, which then to all minds be brought.
This rising up, this reaching, is its lot.
Even the twisted, pale, unwanted thought
Begins in some small place and travels far
Until it reaches to the farthest star,
Unless deflected, pulled back to its source
Unfinished, not allowed to run its course.
All laughing, loving lanterns of sweet voice,
Though sounding softly, linger. This our choice -
To speak with careful tongue, of what we know.
For knowing makes the world, and makes it well.
Each loving thought adds to the tale we tell.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Difficult to contact people
Now that she had moved away.
She had no phone numbers.
Everyone she knew had moved from student slum to
Only fragments of remembered conversation to
She had to make contact.
She had things to say to people,
Belongings to be gathered.
And she hadn’t moved so far away.
It was two hours by car.
It was five hours,
Of hitching and walking down those empty back roads.
Got a ride with a musician;
Going up for an afternoon gig.
That seemed like enough time to
Find her friends,
Pick up a few things,
Maybe have a beer.
But, when she got there,
She felt a flash of heat and adrenalin.
She started to rush about.
Flushed, drunk and adamant;
She’d not leave. Not yet.
She’d go the following morning. Maybe then.
The musician friend packed up his car and left.
Tension threaded a sticky swirling coil
Through her body.
She should have gone, taken that ride.
She should have left as planned.
She searched out another beer, another party,
Then slept a drunken sleep,
Exhausted by the frenzied dancing, her
Longing not to leave these young, indolent bodies,
This heat and drunkenness,
This music, this happening.
She burnt to gray the cold, real fact of her
Light slammed into her eyes.
The air outside the blankets was cold.
She closed the door behind her, but it swung
The day was clear and empty.
She stuck out her thumb,
Resigned to independence; walked
With long, sure strides between the
Passing of cars.
Slow going under a mid-morning hangover;
She was hard-pressed to feel anything
Positive about the journeying.
She stood for a long time on the
Highway’s shoulder on the
Edge of a highway town.
Reflecting on the distance,
She was afraid now of that two-hour drive.
She knew the road, but still couldn’t make it.
Rather blinded by vain longings and sudden tears.
Maybe it was better just to stay away.
And then she remembered other times
When she’d had to move, to
Leave things behind,
Remembered how the focus shifted;
She remembered how she’d had to
Monday, April 1, 2013
Only the rise and fall of feeling,
Only the still center
Movement has no meaning when you’re larger than the world.
Do not try. Be.
Do not hope. Know.
Power does not stir itself. The
Still center feels no need.
Only the graceful rise and fall.
Power makes no effort.
Love makes no request.
The stillness takes less room than a pinpoint.
The stillness holds the universe in its breath.
Do not try. Be.
Do not hope. Know.
And only the rise and fall of feeling
Holds the still center
With the trembling hands of humanity’s
Always and never.
Being born forever
Is the cradling rise and fall enveloped by the
Each makes the other.