Category Archives: poetry

Pakoras, Anyone?

I walk through the desert toward the mountain,
a pink sunset casts shadows
from behind.

I see the darkness on the stones ahead,
The ‘I am’ is the obstacle of the light, the
floater in my eyeball.

When I give up the I,
where does the shadow go?
Nowhere; into nothing.

The shattered fragments of my youth
orbit the brightness of my Being, casting
their long shadows on the otherwise bright

Take out the trash, and my
kitchen no longer smells of rotting chicken.
Pakoras, anyone?

At Least I Know That I Live

Behind every tragedy
is a silent place hidden
from view,
a silent spring waiting to bubble
to the surface
to wash the pain away.

How to find it?
Let the grief break
your dam.
Don’t resist gravity.
Flow to the low places, loathed by
humankind, until the walls that
conceal your joy are eroded and cracked
from within.

When the wall breaks, you will see
that inside there has been a garden full
of treasures and gems, waiting all this time.

And how else could it be?
The effluent and detritus go down
into the earth, and come back as green
crops for hungry children. The broken
fragments of your heart tossed in a circle
and held with love become
a mosaic.

How else can I say it? What more can I
do to remind myself? I say this to myself:
Accept, accept, accept. Walk forward
naked, and when the brambles scrape my skin, I say, “At least I know that I live.”

Begging on the Streets

I’ve prayed for lifetimes
at the gates where travelers come through,
for you.

We’ve walked from opposite ends of time
meeting in the middle,
I’ve always known you.

Begging on the streets,
I’ve met all types. Nobility and
the scum they scrape
from their boots,
you walk through all of it unphased.
Unscathed. Unbroken and unknown.

And, too often,

And yet, I know you. I see you, the deeper you hidden to those without eyes to see,
hidden to those who are dazzled and dazed,
from starting too long
into the sun.

There are no words I can say to you;
no writing on paper can express,
the safety I feel in your arms.
The tenderness in the softness of your
breath, the love I see reflected
in your smile.

We’ve walked a winding road.
No one knows where it leads, there are
no maps, where you and I are traveling.
Whatever may come, I will turn
to you, be seen
by you, and be grateful for every day that I’m blessed to wake
next to you.

A Milky-Sweet Taste

I will be there, and it will be wonderful.
Even better,
I am
How could I ask for more?

A milky-sweet taste which I
can remember from my childhood,
the butterfly drinks slowly
from the yarrow;
but the recipe is forgotten,
the ingredients misplaced but
not extinct.
Never lost.

Gripped by cynicism
and a tight knot of anxiety in my guts,
I’d rather forget that anything so
profoundly nourishing could exist,
rather compartmentalize it away
than be torn by a sobbing grief
for the tropical flowers that wither
in the icy apocalypse I now wander through.

I’d prefer to think of myself
as eternally alone with the knives
in my back than face the bloodshed
that is crusted on the faces that
crawl past me.
The glass cover which might have
given me distance,
was ground into sand long ago,
when I lived in the slaughterhouse
with the lambs.

It’s not hard to imagine to myself,
that I might be, ‘going, going, going beyond, going absolutely beyond…’
as I lie face down in a muddy ditch,
at one only with
maggots and gangrene.

Where spirituality ends, and
Spiritualism begins,
is in that moment when I run from
Run from the flames, from the worn faces,
from the mirror; I go only beyond
my own desperation,
but not into the clear light,
into compassion,
never that.
Not while I continue to run
from the paradox of being.

The glass cover is gone,
so I’ve fashioned this clay pot
to drink from
very slowly.

The bitter medicine,
the seemingly endless pain, reminds
me of what I am, and what I am not.
There is no ‘I’.
If I search through all of these things I
have identified with to feel safe,
never can I hope to find a single
One to which I can say,
“Ahhh, this is I.”

All of the meaning.
All of the suffering.
I created it all,
So that someone who had lost his power
could keep living.

But not today.
Today I walk out of the slaughterhouse again,
the wormwood and kava give my face
a screwed up grimace,
and yet when I integrate the bitterness
and accept it with my full
suddenly the here and now feels
overwhelmingly real.

On the subject of total Emptiness,
sages say,
“Those who know do not speak,
those who speak do not know.”
As soon as I realize that there
Is no ‘I’ remaining to perceive
that there is no ‘I’,
I have grasped, and the ‘I’ has already returned.
Better to close the senses, and
Experience the suchness of being
unencumbered my symbols, especially
the symbol I’ve lovingly named,

Synthetic Shamesuits

Racing clouds of Styrofoam that
blow in the wind,

the Apes in their land speeders, graceful
creatures naked
underneath their synthetic shamesuits.

As I Swim

As I swim in
the dark, sweet, stinging pool of sorrow,
whether lying on your back and sighing or
curled in a ball
the exit is never more than an arms
length away.

Open the inner door,
and when God smiles at me and says,
“There you are”, I wonder…

I Met God on the Road Today

The ocean vaporizes, steam rising, and
I’m handed the keys to the palace.
Sitting in a low chair, looking
out the window, the creek flows by;
I polish
my crown.

I can’t help but wonder,
‘Has there been some mistake?’
Nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing
which is not me; which is not That.

I met God on the road today. And then
I discovered that God was
the road, and the ants crawling in the sand,
and nothing. How can these words have
any meaning?
They cannot. They do not. And yet the
photons being projected at your eyes are
That. These particles of light are
more profound than any words
a human could hope to express.

I sit and watch the creek,
the tall cedars stand and watch
too. A tiny speck of dust floats
on the dark cold water, gentle waves
of energy delay its eventual
surrender. The bacteria on the speck,
live and die, love and compete. The
dust settles as the gentle twilight
caresses the edges, and the bacteria return
to the Mother of all things.

Durable Enough to Surrender

I’m strong enough to be
bent in half in your gale.
I’m durable enough to surrender.
I trust enough, care enough, to watch unflinching
as you walk away.

I’m sitting in the sand, my lap
fills with pearls and shells, feeling
the heat of your burning heart as it
melts in the sun.

At night,
your heart cools and becomes hard again.
I will wait until the sun rises, and
in the winter when you’re covered
with snow,
if I must,
I’ll wait until spring comes again but;
why not go skiing and make
your heart into hot coco?

Time always reveals what’s true,
perpetually eroding and returning the sharp points
into the void.

Inside of you exists the
strength to bend.
The courage to be vulnerable.
A key which disarms and dissolves the boundary between Self and Other.
In time, when you feel safe, when we’re
two trees who’s roots have grown together
not through focused effort, but through the
natural progression of the macrocosmic
dance of growth and evolution,
you’ll find that my roots have
pushed up into your heart.
On that day,
surrender to me.

Until then, let’s laugh and wrestle like
children, pushing each other over and
testing to see who’s stronger
in the spirit of love
and play.

Half Monkey Half Divine

Half monkey
half divine,
my Diamond Heart will never
Fall from integrity;
The ape in me can’t seem to stop
throwing shit.

I can’t stop my
sharp edges from stinging you,
though I can kiss the scrapes and
feed you masaman.

Human integrity is far from perfect:
my heart has a special container labeled,
“Human Mistake Cleanup Kit and Lesson Plans”
Inside the kit, the capacity to be compassionate for the infinite ways that
learning experiences can be painful.
I hope that you have such
a kit for me, when I fall and cut my lip,
in need of stitches,
and the blood from my lesson flows onto
your white dress.

It’s never my intention to
hurt you, but the animal
in me has sharp claws;
not yet domesticated.
A loving nuzzle
unties the stitches in your wounds.

If you want a pair of loving and fumbling paws to
help you wash out the wounds,
Here I am.

Inside the Cake

That one
to whom you bid farewell,
with so many loving goodbyes
has died.

Do not resurrect him and his
grinding suffering.
He was an egg, who needed
to be smashed and beaten
in order to bake my
Birthday cake.

Inside the cake, billions of air
pockets, empty voids filled with
galaxies; this cake is

He was an imp, under the pounding
feet of Nataraj. I am a tree, with
roots set deep in the Mother, tender branches which
Quiver below the jeweled hand of the
Father, and in place of the trunk,
An endless waterfall flowing ever

Three dimensional time moves only
Forward, and this blessing is most fruitfully bestowed on
the dead. Let them have their victories,
let them celebrate their culmination,
and let us sit on this
tiny ball of dust, rolling across the
flagstones and
watch the Sun and the Moon come
out to play.

I Can’t Blame Anyone

A toxic and
suicidal world.

Or is it?
I’ve never heard a shrimp say,
“There’s no hope in this. Who am I?”

Humans have been fighting for
3 million years but,
when did our bickering with each other descend
into total war?

When did we find something we could imagine was
all this fighting?

Ashes to ashes and dust
in my sinuses,
I can’t help but sneeze when
I think of arguing over,
” ‘There should be more that,
and that more this,’
Coming from those
sitting in a wagon,
in a ditch.”

I can’t blame anyone for our collective
clinging desperation to the endless addictions;
I can’t seem to detach my own.

Those fond memories of eating burgers and shakes
With a man I used to call ‘Dad’.

I’ve given up on the
idea that there is one
Right way
to live.

I only hope that I can find
A way
that works for me and
The Descendants,
and that all the other
will do the same.

A tiny seed of Gold rests inside this monkey

It’s difficult to accept;
that moment when you realize that
it was all a

A lie so profound and
how can I even wrap
my tiny primate brain
around its spindling and
tangled implications?

A tiny seed of Gold rests inside
this monkey.
Dreaming in my belly about the days
when children walk the Earth naked and
barefoot, giggling and playing well
into the later centuries of their
time-space personalities.

Circles within circles,
I Am That,
spiraling in and out of the truth of
this unfathomable microcosm.

The chains have rusted and grown moss,
the steel that binds our shells stretched
so thin, among so many hearts.

Your shackles have never been so
thin, my friend. Don’t be like the elephant that
never forgets the agony of being tied and
beaten. Remember the
strength which your ancestors infused
into your bones.
Stop dousing yourself in fragrance to avoid
the earthy scent of your
shit. Everybody knows
who you are. You can drop the act
Now; the banquet is set.
You need only sit
in your Human,
who patiently awaits
your tender company,

Can we stop arguing over who
will have the more luxuriously
appointed slaves quarters?

Can we stop bickering over who
can accumulate more comfort,
complacency, and complicity?

I was told to live
my life looking through a pin hole.
The greatest gift I’ve received
is the knowledge that all
authority is a lie.
A lie so profane and grotesque that
I couldn’t
but believe it.

To those that claim authority,
and tell us to live lives
so narrowly defined,
let us loving and tenderly respond,
“Sincerely; fuck you. Quo warranto?”
For the sake of the
Liberation of all beings.

The easiest way to
commit an unspeakable atrocity,
is to break it into little parts,
until none of
comprehend what we’re working
Hand out
Business cards,
and let’s give Mother
paper cuts
until her body turns to

There is a policeman inside all
our heads:
he must be

Today I Burn

Step into my sanctum and
know the secret sacred me that
so few have grasped.

With one sip of ambrosia I knew that
I had no choice but to pierce
the heavens.

My tattered wings smoldered in the
flaming glory
of the sun,
and for just one moment
I knew
what it meant to be

Call me reckless.
Call me arrogant.
You’re correct but,
I’d rather live and die with a burning heart
searing my flesh
than be half alive in a coffin
made by the dead
for the living.

Today I
I have no regrets.

Discarded Time-Space Personalities

The ancient ones awake at twilight,
we walk the earth in fresh skin.

So many discarded
time-space personalities,
we’re all together
for the first time since

The children play with their
toys of war;
let them learn while they’re young.

We have our own space
ascending the
holy mountain,
we know this snake skin will only last,
a little while.

The bacteria in full bloom corrupts
the spherical cell,
floating and spinning through the aether,
breaking through the wall and
consuming the life-giving minerals

Soon the white cell comes to clean up,
let’s dance inside this mystery until

Body Calling

My body has
been calling his estranged friend for 24
the line is always

One day, a timid
child’s voice whispers, “hello?”
from the other side of eternity.
my body doesn’t know what to say;
how to respond.

The Real Self is on the line, and he
has waited so long to talk to someone. He’s been alone in the room of perpetual midnight, the phone off the hook, making up
stories about ghost friends in the static
of the television.
Now that contact is made,
the sublime and empty silence feels

There’s nothing to talk about: only
and time, can remedy a life that
never was. A seed which has
been underground, waiting to germinate until
this fire came and burned it all

Cultivating a Flexible Heart

Cultivating a
flexible heart,
being silent and still,
I gaze at Shakti as she dances;
a butterfly that quivers, and
hums softly,
sipping nectar in the golden,
melting sunlight.

If only we were all blessed
with the Grace
of witnessing this sacred dance!
Only a fool fails to understand,
that grasping a butterfly captures
only Death.

I open my palm, sit
in the garden,
inside of the great doors to
the Treasure house, and wait
until the Mystery
invites me

True love;

True love;
caring enough
to surrender to pleasure,
dance in the shadows,
battle with demons,

And fall asleep
feeling safe.

Can you love tenderly enough to
allow the past
to be healed in the present?

Leaving This Lie

I’m leaving this
lie, to live in the spirit
of the truth.

I’m waking away
from you,
but don’t take it personally,
my beloveds.

Pull this silicone and copper
out of my
I’m unplugging to find
the nature
of existence, the
Experience of being

I hoped that if I could just get
comfortable enough in the
septic tank, that peace would
find my heart.

Now I know that the
rest I crave arrives only when I’m
and clean,
untroubled by the rumbling of your

Don’t fear
to tread where the rocks and trees
and streams
know your essence.
Step outside of the cruel illusion,
the yolk placed on your neck
at birth;
that’s where you’ll find

I’m ready for the compost heap

I’m ready for
the compost heap.

I’m ready to give
it all away
to the light.

Your unbearable humidity
ripens me so quickly, breaks down my boundaries
teaches me to rest.

I’ve been trying to carry the weight for you,
but I can’t figure out how take it
out of your chest.

New life explodes into this world
my empty body
blinded by the kaleidoscopic rainbows,
of that place that we have
all called home
so long ago.

Centered in Myself

In myself
In myself
Where else do you expect me to

I’ll come visit you
In your heart and
Your body,
But when the King taxes the whole
Where else can I lay
My head?

I suppose that you’ve gone to
live in the prison,
Ashamed for giving up
Your Birthright;
I tried to break you out but found
In chains.

Don’t harass the guard,
I say
To myself,
He’s just a prisoner
Trapped in his lonely boat of
Ignorance and isolation
And grieving,
Unknowing of the glory that
Waits for him in the meadows

When guards and prisoners
Reconcile their differences,
Only then will all of our hearts
Be set

Grieving a Pleasant Illusion

Grieving a pleasant illusion,
Absolution is a gift from
to the restless heart.
A boar that rolls in the dirt to dislodge
Arrows from her chest.

What if
It’s not your fault?
Dissolving the past, gathering my
Frozen shattered dissociation into the
Furnace of whatever,
I’m stepping forward into the naked
Aimless nothingness of a joy
so pure,
I forgot it when I learned
to speak my age
on commend.

To survive, I had to blame
Crooked nails and hedgehogs,
the closer we get,
the more
it hurts.

Beyond the jagged edges of suffering,
Free from the hunger that knows no satisfaction,
I can admit that the world shattered me into a
When you’re ready to make your brokenness your
that sacred garden of tomorrow, the
Refuge of the spirit of the truth,
will welcome you
not until you accept that
it was not your fault
but it is
your Responsibility.

God Washes Us All Into the Rocks

God washes us all into
the rocks,
Let’s at least shatter
into interesting

You and I smash and splinter
on the same volcanic boulder yet
I become an executioner,
and you,
a doctor.

This one becomes a prophet
a lunatic.

Humans have not created anything
which does not exist in nature.
Our species is atomic fission
gone critical mass
in slow motion mass extinction.

Each generation perfects the
art, of annihilating the


Not as a fallen warrior in the field but
as a babe
at the Mothers breast.

Dissolve yourself
in her sea of warmth and
Let her wipe away all
that doesn’t sit well with you,
that obstructs your comfort and
from your chin.

Give it up.
The name you carved
on her bosom will be
forgotten before that tree
waves goodbye.
She let you swim and
urinate inside
her womb long

She’s shared her milk
asking nothing on return
nurtured by the Father
for long enough,
my friend.

One day I realized
it’s not easy
being a parent.
I was an middle aged man
pissing my pants and
grunting for milk.
No more.

Even the most unwilling butterfly must
eventually break the shell of its
own apathy and comfort.
Or, perish, in a rotting plastic diaper,
having never travelled the distance required
to weep at
Her grace
and patience for Her
slow children.

If these words give offence,
may that suffering crack the
casing, around your heart,
so that we may all wash
our Mother
with tears.

A Black Cat Scrabbles

A black cat scrabbles at the
door to the Heart,
trying to find the cat door but
none exists.

Green and wooly,
a ball of yarn rolls
and the slinky cat,
distracted now,
rolls with the ball and bats at it,
filled with imagination.

In her fantasy she dreams,
she’s on the other side of the
locked door.
That unexplored
Dreaming, and rolling,
she’s eventually convinced
that’s where she is!
“This ball of yarn must be the Heart!”
She assures herself.

A sign is posted,
“You are now in the Heart!”
and other creatures gather around,
starry eyed.

“How did we get in the Heart, and why is it the same as everywhere else?”
“Why, through this door!” The cat explains.
“How did you reach the knob?”
The cat’s well meaning illusion, and her Prophetic identity,

Back up, claws out, she retreats.

How Can Something so Ancient

How can something so
ancient be so fresh
on my lips?

You and I are the ocean and the
shore, beloved.
Time and space and
solar systems ebb and flow,
and we are sparkling flecks
of debris caught in their warm

When ripples move through
the Source, that place which flows
eternally, and is never
and my nose brushes
against your ear
with soft hushed whispers of the
sea dancing
all the time and space
which has created the illusion of
‘you’ and ‘I’
is revealed as the cosmic dance.

You and I,
are just the shoes.

“I Love You” Is Such a Gross Approximation

“I love you”
Is such a gross approximation
of the tender
overwhelming bliss
which caresses my heart and whispers

My fingers have been reaching out
through time and space
fumbling for your grasp;
I’ve been standing on top
of my solitary
for eternity,
sending songs and dripping honeyed messages out
into a still and silent
the scent of brine tickles
my nose, the full moon ripples
and dances on black waves,
blue and white feathers ruffle
in the soft silent breeze.

Calling you home to my
calling the tribe to
gather, together
tiny ships bob in the silver shimmering
sacred sailors wander through dreams that
for a long forgotten port called

Come join me in song,
and wake the sleepers, so that
they might direct their oars
We all rise up in song,
as the waves rise and crash
on the shore,
and candles are lit
on the bows of
a sea
of tiny boats.

Untouched Below the Tree a Perfectly Wrapped Gift

Untouched below the tree
a perfectly wrapped gift
has your name on it.

The card reads,
“With deepest love and affection,
all the best in the new year!
You deserve it.

I sit in anticipation as you
Tenderly unwrap yourself,
wrapped in a cloak of unimaginable
glory, your eyes sparkle at me
and your voice quivers,
“Thank you! I love you so much!”

But, I’m not Santa Claus.
The card was not a joke;
your swim in divine grace has
nothing to do with me.
I’m just a messenger, a
hollow vessel for His sacred

I put it under the tree but it is not
mine to give, not
from me, only

I won’t correct you, just now.
“You’re welcome beloved,
you absolutely deserve what has
always been your birthright, and
if you misplace it in the basement
again, I will retrieve it next

Ecstatic and Enraptured

Ecstatic and enraptured, wrapped
around you,
flying high on the wings and feathers
that sprout on me whenever I’m staring into
your soul.
The sacred fragment of God wedged
deep inside your

I’m young and green, will you help me learn
what it means to love,
in the comfortable breeze of
your shade?

Inside of me a seed germinates and
the cherry pit splits open
so that my heart may stand bare
in the sun.

Water me, preserve my
in a world gone brittle and stale.
Be a tall, thin candle next to me,
melting, dissolving,
into the silent sacred hours,
where dreams come to fruition,
where you and I disappear and
we giggle and joke about
the unknown concept of

I see you
I want you
and I want you to see you how
only I
Peel away your layers until your nakedness
is vertical,
and we will climb that tree of life to a place
so delicate and subtle
I cannot say.

Butterflies dance in the garden of my youth,
tongues extend to drink nectar that
in the sun,
I dream of you in longing;
the butterflies
inside of me.

My greatest pleasure is the way that
you shiver
as my hands glide across your
The spirit inside me bows
to the dignity of the flesh,
an eruption of secret wishes
wash up from a hidden spring,
I lie in the current
swept away in the silent scent
of your skin against

take me to that protected grove
where you expose yourself to the fingers of
the wind,
I grasp for words to contain the boundless
knowing, that brushes my hair aside and
‘I remember when you were just
a restless dream.’
We’ve spent too much time apart,
too many moments pretending that there is
a ‘you’
and a ‘me’…
I’m begging you!
Merge into this wholeness and remind me
what it’s like to know;
‘There’s nothing that is not Me.’
How it feels when there is nothing left
to long for,
As I weep inside profound, satiated,

Entrance me with stories of
a paradise that lives in an
eternal moment,
wrap me up in a warm blanket of cardamom wind,
and caress that tender hidden part of me that trusts
the setting of the sun and the
of the tide.

Do all of this
unto me
that my heart might remember
beyond all hope of ever
the fragment of Life that
inside my unquenchable thirst
for You.

My Wandering Emptiness

In my wandering emptiness,
you are tangible,
the source of the world which
anchors me.

I’ve wandered in darkness seeking
glimmering traces of
the scent of gingerbread dough and

Take me home
is the mantra that guides
me through the winding paths
of your garden.

When my body is cold and
empty, your blinding blue
lightning explodes in my heart,
reminds me that this world of
10000 things,
this world of illusions appearing
of particles held together by divine
is both the prison that keeps me
from you,
and also my ticket
to your door.

The Mortality and Morbidity of Women

The mortality and
of women;
the dark red canvas of
of repressed and explosive
painting and living their secret night
of drowning at sea.

Would that you could
prove your manhood.
Save your breath if you might whisper,
“But, I’m a good man!”
For a rabid dog preys
on your wife and children and
you can’t see,
won’t look away, from your pleasant

Prove your goodness.
Become a warrior of light,
a defender of peace and
Your goodness is defined not only by
your actions, but what you allow to
In your comfortable silence,
you are

There is a rabid dog roaming
the quiet streets of your
teach it the silence and tranquillity
of eternal

Am I Safe

Am I safe?
My heart beats all
in my chest,
Am I safe?
I don’t understand
the question.

I surrender.
Please, teach me to
this suffering,
this samsara,

Share my body,
spend some time inside
my skin
for a while.
When did we become so scared
that all this distance appeared
When did being alone in a crowd
of strangers
become more appealing than
falling in love with
a tiny tribe?

let’s touch, and dance, and
What could possibly be
more important,
or more likely to break
these chains?

How May I Serve

How may I serve?


I thank you,
so deeply,
for all of

I don’t know
so let’s just sit here
in awe.

I love you but
I have nothing
to say.

Do You Remember

Do you remember that
arriving at gate of heaven
often requires walking
through hell?

Forgiveness through
I become at one with everything that
brought me

This is where I make my stand,
turn and face what has been
churning in my dreams
with a fearless naked
I forgive that part of my soul that
has been handled
so callously.

Opposing forces are just two
dancing masks
I change
at will.
Today I play the villain,
in tomorrow’s dream I am
the angel.

But who am

Perhaps today I will

Sitting in compassion I
play the guest.
Holding my treasures gently,
I just want you to know

I have no enemies.

The Ancient Oak

The ancient oak is pure power because
it let the cycles of the universe
that which no longer served it.

devoid of attachments that would pull it
to the ground,
its emptiness is a dark
safe space
where the beauty of existence flourishes.

This is what it means to be a wellspring;
to be completely empty
and draw all that is needed
from above
and below.

“With roots set deep into eternity,
Branches that reach into eternity,
And no trunk.
Have you seen it?”

Have you been it?

I say to myself,
give up everything that you hold on to for strength
and then you will be

The Light-house is Calling You

The light-house is calling you
home, from the stormy search
for your wholeness.

Don’t let fatalism drown you
at sea.
The beloved cares too much
about you
To watch you get
Bathe in light

Lose the self that you cling to.
Disassemble the armory.
Walk away and let the rain rust
your sharpness.

In each fleeting moment
I am doing
or undoing.
Anchoring or uprooting a path,
a Disease, a Knowing.

With each step, I am parting the sea
of the Future.

Across the World

Across the world angels
lie in wait
Slumbering and lazy in this time
Of mourning
The morning of the Soul
After An impossibly
long night.

Angels bent
But not broken
On the wheel.

Waking and gathering
Sleeper agents asleep
No longer.

Rubbing our eyes we walk together and
Into our wholeness.

The golden light pours down on
Blue robes, blue wings, and long, curving

Standing in the gentle breeze,
A calm expression of tender love
And one single

A Mormon church is standing,
And then stands no more.
Black ooze pours from
The belly
And then stops.

A mass
Stands before,
And then slides to the ground.
All is forgiven.

Congress argues endlessly
Barely human, ripe with corruption,
Complete in its end. Peace. Peace. Peace.
Peace that comes from left
To right, wide eyes like boiled eggs stare
In amazement
At the glory.

Billions of shackled hands rise
And in one motion the chains
In a song
Of raucous laughter
And a sea of bodies writhing
In union.
Not one tear of remorse
Is shed.

We stand naked at the window.
The night is calm
The pressure of millions of tons of concrete and glass
Firmly crushing the bedrock of
Our beloved mother.
In stillness, release.
The edifice sails through the night,
A whispering cloud of rubble and broken glass rushing to
Greet the Dawn.

Loss Builds

Loss builds
on loss.

Death of self
Death of old friends
Death of love
Death of health
Death of parents, and family
Death of youth
Death of innocence
Death of dependence
All mourning the ultimate
Death of Unity

All this mourning,
All the grieving we avoid
All the pleasant and comfortable
Lament a paradise we’ve only known

We dehydrate our shit. Put it in the cupboard.
Why not compost

Inside is where harmony hides;
paradise is unity with Self,
a fertile ground from which
the mycelial network of the heart
extends out from,
binding souls and minds in knowing,
“You are another myself.”

A warm embrace whispers,
“You don’t need to feel this.
Put it back in the dehydrator.”

Addicts all,
we soften the hard edges that have
crystallized on our atrophied courage.

Shatter the dreams
of your soft cell,
and let’s hold hands
wandering naked under the belly
of the moon.

Plant a Seed

Plant a seed,
let the mothers birth it,
and nurture it.
Then murder the child at
your convenience.
to the gods of Men
of Manhood
of Force;
Reaping the horrors that we have sown
For 10000 years.

Rule by Force,
and the humans fill up with
a swamp without

How can Love ever overcome
Courage to rule the world from
the inside

Force rules the world from the outside in,
top down,
A glacier that grinds all of us to

Rule from the bottom up,
lead from below in
Lead with an image,
a dream,
a Knowing;
All beings are equal,
and being born into privilege
self importance
and narcissism
changes nothing
except perspective.

Dream that it is better for
one million humans to live in harmony
than ten billion to live in the
of Force.

Our species
our ancestors,
and until we lovingly say No, our
Have been ritually sacrificed on the pyres.

Save the children,
Burn comfort
of all kinds

Expanding My Vessel

Expanding my vessel means,
feeling more deeply,
and being troubled

Seeing the traumas and horrors with
unflinching eyes,
I know that I have abused
and been abused.
I know this continuum only ceases to be
when someone stands up and
says Stop!

To Speak, I must know.
To know, I must feel.
To feel, I must see.

Stare into the light all day,
all I can see is stars, I am
dazzled and
Stare into the blackness all night,
all I experience is existential crisis, I am
numb and,

The orbit in my body rises and falls.
The light and dark
take their turns in perfect rhythm and
Joy and sorrow cannot deny
their perfect marriage.
Deny this, and I am truly

These Eyes See in 2D

These eyes see in 2D,
The Truth exists in 10.
How can we hope to know,
What it means when we say

Dancing in the extremes, the universe feels cliché.
This time we spend together could not be more sacred, more profound.

In perfect darkness is a completeness, containing a nothingness.
Light a candle. Melt, be warm.
Now, we are agents of

The shadows,
play the villain.

Don’t fear the villains, they don’t exist,
“Out there.”
How ever you treat the darkest,
most hideous parts of yourself,
let that be the
meter stick
For your healing.

There’s no sense in going out to serve others while shunning and torturing your hidden self.

Yes, it’s time to move on.
This is the opening that we have been waiting for. It’s time to be honest with ourselves, and with each other.
Yes, we have been shattered on the rocks.
Yes, we are survivors.
Never doubt the originating source of brokenness: wholeness.

Beyond all of this conflict, beyond the horrors, there is a table.
There, brotherhood and sisterhood are seated, waiting patiently and without judgement.

The price of a plate, is honesty, vulnerability. Being willing to get raw. Willing to get ugly.
The beauty is all around, the love, support, tenderness, gentleness, and connection, are all served on silver platters

Love, source, spirit, Great Mother and Father, all around, all surrounding. They pour in, encouraging us to receive the great wisdom.
We must breakdown the walls and clear out the basement
of the soul.
Don’t fill it with cement!
Let it go, they can carry
your tears
to the thrift store,

In the past, this clearing was like rolling up our sleeves and getting knee deep with
a teaspoon.

Now, the outpouring of this fire hose need only be acknowledged, directed.
We need only break down, melt down our doors with profound tenderness, and admit to the Fireman, “Yeah! Down there!”

This profound energy, pours down through us, into those many places which we have deemed
Flowing down to all the low places
loathed by humans,
To clean and nourish that which was never given a chance,
To deeply love.

These stories, the actions of the past left imprinted on hearts;
When we come together to live in the Spirit of the Truth, we find that the stories don’t make sense
Stop telling them, stop re-enacting them.

Here is the table, waiting, for you.
Surrounded with so much cheerful goodwill, let’s accept the invitation, the invocation, our place,
our birthright.

Reckless Arrogant

I cover my eyes and my heart to
Shield me
From what is.

The white jacket of the mind holds me
Close, so I can whisper, “I’m ok. I’m ok.”
To myself.
It contains all the shards of
An exquisitely crafted mirror
That was supposed to be

Now I see from a thousand reflected eyes
Instead of being limited to just two.
With all this looking
The truth
Must be in there somewhere.
Eventually I have to ask,
Who am I?

Absolute terror
Of being alone
Creates relationships like a children’s mobile.
We go round and round
But do we touch?

Keeping My Knives in Your Back

You’ve been keeping my
In your back
To protect the world from
The scrapes and slices.

But why punish yourself?
A paper cut on your shell is medicine,
But don’t disembowel yourself,
My love.

Wandering souls bound
In the shackles of masters
Long dead,
Find their way
To me.

Let’s set them free,
With the thin,
Tender blades.
We drink and dance and spin,
Shedding what has protected us;
Kept us safe from the
Truth, of existence.

Becoming my own parent,
The sand burns my eyes
As I stand tall facing
What is.

Wandering Through the Shadows

You’re wandering through the
I want you to know
With all my heart
There is
Another side.

You feel empty and so profoundly
In your skin.
My skin has been empty

Keep waking.
Keep wandering toward the tiny specks
Of light
And love
When you see them.

It’s a fucking long road.
We’re all broken.
And yet there is a part that can never
Be diminished.
You’re afraid that it’s dead,
And, my beloved, you need to know
That child is waiting for you
Here with me.

Our arms are open,
We’re sipping tea.
I’m still broken but now,
My shards sit in the palm
Of my hand
No longer filling
My being.

I’m inviting you,
The tea is warm
And sour;
We can drink deeply,

Come sit with all of us,
In a circle of love
And we will gather the pieces of our hearts
Into One.

Human consciousness has been frozen,
No more.
Welcome to the spring of the heart,
The darkness of winter is still
Chilling. To the bone.
But look behind the dying warnings
Of the old,
To what is being born.
Don’t ignore the shadows,
Or they have won.
Don’t fear grief, or even hurt,
Or you have abandoned the most
Precious gifts.

We must
The patriarchy is towering above,
It is broken.
We all see,
It is broken.
We no longer fear being broken,
Or being alone,
And it’s power is

We are all in this together.
If you do not KNOW this,
In your body,
You are stuck in the shadows.
And so, here we are,
Sobbing so deeply,
Heaving in the shadows,
Walking away from a broken
And hopeless world.

We are strong enough to do this.
If one thousand of us survive
We have won.
This child and I beg of you,
Keep walking until you find

The Night Sky Descends

The night sky descends to
Wrap me up
In her arms.

All of the straight lines
Inside me,
Then, and now, in and out,
My birth and my death,
Hold each other so softly.
They merge as they embrace,
Everything I’ve ran from
Catches up

Surrendering to the stillness
Of this spiral without ends,
Lacking nothing,
A warm palm on my back says,
It’s ok.
Now I have no idea who I am,
And I don’t care.
Being just one I is a prison,
And in this ocean of selves
Why sould I be limited?

Lets abandon all of our aims,
Admit they were distractions,
And sit here together in this non-action.
All distance is collapsed, there is
Nowhere to go, nothing to get,
Nothing that is not present.

We spend our whole lives,
An infinite sea of perfect moments,
Acting, just to prove, “I exist.”
“I matter.”

As the mists fall, and the North Wind
Rises, the time of resting
This is your chance to meet you,
To curl up and look into your eyes
And fall in love.

Don’t waste it
Trying to make wrinkled paper strait.

I’m Lying in Your Bed

I’m lying in your bed.
Tell me all about the source
Of emptiness
And longing.

Tell me why it seems
Completely necessary
For this waterfall to pour from my

In my head is an image
That says to me
No one gives a shit about you,

Despite a sea of humans pouring love
And admiration
Over my brow.
How can this be?

I want to merge with you.
I miss you.
Do you care?
Perhaps you’re wise to protect yourself.

Come drown with me in this ocean
Of love pouring into
The black hole
In our heart.

The beauty and tenderness I feel
With you,
I can’t help but cry.
Do you feel the same?

Do you feel at all?
I can’t tell any more.
I’ve shouldered this pain for so long,
It just feels normal.

The waterfall is pouring love
A few feet away,
But I’m glued to the ground.
With this heaviness, I can’t crawl.

How can I transcend my addiction to pleasure
My fear of pain?
How can I live in the Spirit of the Truth
And still be a reptile?

This reptile in my medulla oblongata
Speaks so
The world of ten thousand things is nothing in comparison.

I sit here.
I love you more than words could possibly say.
The co-dependence inside me shrieks.
So, how could I expect you to navigate that?

I can’t. You’re not here and
I don’t blame you.
You’re sick of humans and, it turns out,
I’m still one.

A Heart Locked in a Tower

There’s something beautiful
And devastating
About a heart locked
In a tower.

It’s safe, but does it beat?
It risks nothing and loses

No oppressive forces there to
Smother and snuff
The tender golden flame inside,
No fuel to make it shine brightly,
It sits like an enormous hearth with only
Smouldering embers and licks of flame
To warm it.

I sit at the base of the tower.
An ancient frightened woman guards it,
Feverishly folding,
With clawed desperate fingers,
Of paper air planes
And sending them into the sky.
None make it inside.
She never sleeps,
She sits in a bitter pool of
Regrets and missteps.
Looking forever upward
She never notices that the pool
Is shallow, and requires only
The will to leave,
To move on.

As shallow as it is,
None can cross.

When I was younger I rode
An impossibly fast white mare.
Striking a galant pose,
I would have rode the woman down,
Climbed the tower,
And claimed
The heart.

But I am old now.
I gave my beloved mare back
To her mother
Long ago.
My hands have climbed so many towers,
My bones and joints say firmly,
I see what is
And I accept.

Even with this distance I feel
The heat,
That ephemeral and tender
Sweetness moving through my body.
Something deep within me yearns
To be so much
I imagine lightning striking
The tall tower
Setting that perfect heart
A gout of flame spills out and
Burns up all the cold wet regrets of
And an enormous dove with
The Heart inside goes
Sailing through
To experience all the seasons
Of love.

Not knowing the language of
The clouds, or the wind,
I sit on soft ground.
Full and satisfied, I rest here and wonder,
Will that sacred white Phoenix come
Out to fly with this owl?

Inside that bird is a song.
The song
Vast as the sky
Has gone unsung
Too long.
Too long have the humans been deprived,
glued to the ground, waiting
For that gust of life to uplift us.

Lightning risks it all.
I ask myself,
Am I willing to do the same?

In My Garden

In my garden once
Flowered petals so tender
That a single touch would shatter

Lying on the paving stones,
My bone marrow
Fills in the cracks;
I long for sweet crescent moon with
Broken eyes.

I stayed there for a month,
Watching the sun rise and fall
The soft petals falling on me
whispering to my

Winter took the flower.
For years, in the spring, I waited
But it never came again.
I watered the ground where it had been
With soft tears
For so long, eventually I moved

Back in my home village after wandering
In warm and comfortable
For a lifetime,
The source of softness greets me
At my old doorstep.

The petals are the same!
But climate change
And, I’m not so young as I once was.
Winters now come sooner than
And I wonder,
Will the cold stay away long enough,
For this magic to warm my soul?

Now I /really/ see the grace
Now I know the value
Of the truth.

Perhaps now, I can experience this
Profound unfolding
In one

If the wind takes the petals before
This blossom has a chance to
Press its face against mine,
I trust that magic timeless time
Between you
And I,
The soft rain and the gentle waves,
Will soften the edges of my heart
If I ever forget what it means to
Deeply love

Nothing is as Excruciating

Nothing is as excruciating
Or as intoxicating
As discovering who
I am.

Pulling the layers off this onion,
Some are rotten, some green, some

You Massage Me Back Through Time

Softening my heart,
You massage me
Back through time
Until I am more whole and tender
Than the egg of life.

Drowning in your ocean has
Satisfied my longing.
Thank you for slaying what has kept
Me separate.

I Look in the Cracks in the Pavement

I look in the cracks in the pavement,
Where can I insert a little

I spend so much time soaring between
Here and Sirius,
But every time I grasp for a chunk,
Or even a sliver,
Of that infinite expansion it

Tucking it away
Into some little corner of this Existing
Feels like it should work,
But the motion of this mystery
Breaks the anchors and carries
The songs away.

A red rose blossoms
In my perineum,
And I remember that
I am

The sacred pavement was
Humming the whole time,
But how could one with broken ears
Hope to hear it?

Metaphor Cannot Possibly Contain

A metaphor cannot possibly contain
An outpouring of love like

No matter which words come and be here,
To rest with us a while,
Their lines are so much more
Rough, than the gentle rolling of
The ocean in my body.

When I’m cracked open like this,
I can’t help but feel inadequate.
Fumbling to express something so intangible and
I am an infant trying to verbalize the
Bewildering symphony I experience
All around.
All that comes out is the babbling
And coos
Of a dove.

I blush, and decide to sit
In this silent ecstasy, held
In the lap of the Beloved.

I just wanted to let you know,
There’s room for you,

Lonely Heart Sat Empty

Once upon a time,
A lonely heart sat empty
In a desert
Made from a million crushed

No white horse
No prince
Was ever going to come

This prison
A quiet and desolate
Sanctified sanctuary keeping
Expanses open, holding the walls at bay.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and
Naturally, beauty must enter into
This nothingness.
Water flows to all the low places
Loathed by all humans.
Is this how nothing collapses
To become something?
Is this the bright shining illuminocity of

Flowers grow quickly in the wake of
Atomic holocaust.
Tender morels push up through the ashes,
Of an old growth forest.
Your fingers push up through my heart,
And as it breaks I’m so deeply grateful
For you.

A Completely New Song

A completely new song is
Blaring throughout

Deafening waves of sound crush
Everything I believed about

Not even the angels
Can imagine
How to dance to this,

So then, who?
Who shall teach me?

The steps are woven
into the fabric of existence,
I stumble around trying to match
The driving beats of
Ten dimensional hyper-space.

The wolves in my heart howl,
They scratch at the door in the moon, begging
To be let
To hunt. But,

I hear the soft breath of
The slumbering children
In the village,
I smell the salt on their skin.

I’ve risked enough lives
In my insane and shambling shuffle;
Let’s practice this dance,
My beloved,
Letting our bodies press
Impossibly close,
Moving with a rhythm and harmony
That cannot be taught,
Or comprehended.

And let’s let the sweet children,
And the wolves that carry them
On their backs,
For now.

Only once this ambrosia is
And this new paradigm of movement
-Breaking all limitations-
Feels natural,
Will it be safe to let the wolves of
Genesis be free,
Carrying a child
And a new universe
In their jaws
To this path.

Carrying so much weight,
Moving in circles under a
Black moonless sky
With roots
All around
Risks an injury that might
Never fully heal…

When that new day breaks,
A dawn fashioned of golden melting honey
Guiding us home,
Hands held, laughing and satisfied,
We’ll be so proud of the impossible
And care
We took in this
Sacred practice.

Alone and Empty

Alone and empty, dense
And grieving,
This is the still point.
The silence
Between the notes.

The I of yesterday and and the me
Of tomorrow
Are negotiating a treaty,
Praying for armistice
In my chest.

It’s easy to contest little details
While the dam
Of grieving
Is cracking.

Let go.
Let go!
An ocean of tears begs me,
My arms have formed a dam around my heart.
But, no longer.

As the flood takes whole trees
And abandoned houses up
In its terrifying caress,
We watch, silently weeping.

Standing on a barren
Muddy bank,
The bitter salt taste clings to my lips.
Pure empty potential
And wholeness in my self,

This is freedom.

Dance With Me in Playfulness

Dance with me in playfulness
sexuality and joy.

Have you known the season of
solemnity and reverence?

The wheel in my heart is never still.
Let’s sit on it a while
turning us into infinity.

As new facets of the gem are
laid naked in the light,
a reflection of a different spectrum
whirls on the wall.

Two Great Rubies

Two great rubies
My most precious birthright
Were stolen by the regent of the kingdom.

Standing on the mountain, wings
Stretched wide
The time has come to call them home.
The time is ripe for recompense and reparation.

Dusty bones straddle the throne,
Glass fingers clutch what has always been
Now I see
he has been a prisoner

Her magic is black and
Stronger than ever.
Time has changed her form but not
Her heart.

Ready for a fight
Hatred rising,
A white wind opens the window and
“I forgive you.”

The Worms in My Heart

The worms in my heart have
Eaten the bridge between

The real loss:
They ate my bridge to

A dog would rather be kicked
Than starve alone
In the snow drifts.

I beg for scraps of heart and liver
Under your table but,
You’re not there.
Neither am I.

I’m lost at sea
Trying to find the
Right place to drown
My longing.

I see a high trap door
At the back of your fortress.
A child’s legs
Cannot reach.
Why won’t you let me in
The front?

I liked the abuse;
The hitting, rage, and rape.

What else did I have?
Where were you and your
Golden heart?
You teased me with it when I was
New, and green. Simple.
Today it shines in the pocket of
The ocean. Lost.

Alone on the swings at sunset,
Red sun glowing behind tall trees,
Why weren’t you pushing me?
Sitting with me?
Where was the holding,
Where were the talks?

I wanted it all so badly that
I followed it into

I’ve prayed for the father I never had,
But the pain of losing you;
Nothing can compare.

My paradise lived inside of you;
The last time I was ever
Totally, and completely loved.
I scour the earth,
Searching every bedroom that’s unlocked.
But, every door I walk through takes me
Further from

I am a hollow shell,
The ashen remains of an offering,
Sacrificed at the alter,
Burned away in the crucible,
Of the goddess.

Threatened By a Sobbing Man

Why are you so threatened by
A sobbing man?

He’s gone diving for pearls in
His bowels, he’s no menace
To you.

Tell your neighbours and relatives,
“He wants you to feel sorry
For him. He wants to manipulate you.”

He cries louder, but not for your ears.
His tears are lamenting your
To your own

He weeps,
Begging your tear ducts to find
The integrity to join his
In song.

There’s a child
Inside you
Who’s sick of the lies that leave
Your mouth.
Speak the truth,
Say it with your eyes.

A cruel lying world has blocked
The light in your chest with tar.
Here’s your gift,
A chance to set it free:

Close your mouth.
Close your ears.
Feel what it means to give
And lose.

He continues to feel
All, and everything.
Do you have the courage to
Before you speak?

Ignoring Unresolved Hatred

When ignoring unresolved hatred and
Rage, I’ve given up completely on Love.

Letting Pandora’s box remain closed means
I shall do the same to my heart.

Running as fast as I can into the
Rose garden
I fail to notice the
Septic field
I trip.

This is
How roses should smell!

“Focus on light!
Let the love into your heart!”
I beg of you;
Shut the fuck up.

Those who know nothing of thier shadows cannot
Hope to comprehend the depth and
Agony of Love.

Those shadows serve us,
A hole where once existed a whole.

In their absence of light they teach
Where I have thus far failed to perceive
And allow
My souls healing.

Only so much luminosity can pass
Through a window made opaque
By its transit through worldly abuses.

I can sit on a mountain and say,
“This is where I’m from!”
And if by “I”, I mean my soul,
I am correct.

But I am more than just
My soul,
Therefore I am
A liar.

Putting a panel of stained glass in a
Mountaintop cathedral
Won’t help its condition if it was
Dragged through the dunes to
Get there.

Take it instead to a deep,
Dark place,
With an impossibly hot fire,
So I want to feint,
And burn away all which has made it

Falling Into Your Eyes

Falling into your eyes with
This sand storm,
Tearing up the roots of the
All around.

What is this force that has
Planted us so deep?

My face is raw and blistered,
The wind has borrowed my ribs,
My heart is undiminished.

How can this be? Fragile sacred flesh
Safely held naked in integrity.

Civilization turns to dust and we embrace
Rolling and pinching and loving in
The eye of the storm
Dusty, yet,

Giggling and grinning,
I’m honoured to share
This apocalypse with

My Body and Heart Fall in Love

My body and heart
Fall in love,
My mind pouts and protests,
“You go on without me.
I have indigestion.”

Sitting at home alone
Distracted by the tiny messes
And suspicions and
He wonders why his ephemeral
Existence is so hollow and

Imagining his friends out
Galaxies pulsing and writhing,
New planets form from star-stuff,
Giggling while they climb the ladder
In a circle.

Why is that such a stretch for
Me? Don’t I deserve

But the body and heart
Are two wild children that never
Remember long,
And the mind has been a watchful
And diligent parent since

The great reptiles of old know how to
Slink out the back door when
The spectre of pain knocks at the

Always trimming the hedgerows
Always mortaring cracks and replacing
Bricks in this dusty fortification
Only stepping outside for fresh air on the
Clearest of moonlit

Drunk and singing a simple song of
Unparalleled beauty,
Two stupefied friends stumble through the
Kings doorway.

Tenderly rubbing and caressing one another,
No moment could be more

Unaware of the foul mood of their
Watchful companion,
Paradise blossoms around their
Toes, bubbling springs flow out in all directions,
Nurture all, and are
Never diminished or

The mind blushes at its own foolishness
And abandons itself into

You’ve Shown Me Your Light

You’ve shown me your light source
A blinding smile no heart could

I wonder,
How dark a shadow can it

A blackness tickles my ear with a
Long whispering tongue,
With sensuality
Daring me to
Extinguish existence.

The goddess bears
Down, for one last push,
A new galaxy takes its
First heaving, coughing

Being a Lover

Being a Lover means
My unquenchable thirst is
In the waterfall.

How could I ever expect
A tiny human being to
Do that?

The blind lead the blind
Through the desert,
Fumbling with each others clothes.
The moon witnesses the circles they
Make in the sand,
Dissolved by wind into

Ants crawl on their bellies
Looking for the path to some pot of
Melting honey.
The scent carries them to a white
Sand beach, the waves carry them to

I was born in a river,
Without thirst. Wandering in
The desert, bodily
Fluids remind me
Of home,
My mothers milk whispering
To my palate
As I melt into unity,
“Remember, remember, remember”
Pulsing in rhythm with my heart.

When I look into your wide eyes
And become intoxicated by the
Of your neck,
Can I remember that home
Lives inside me,
A mountain with eternally
Flowing springs?

When I look at a compass
And lonely
I ask, “how do I get home from here?”
I see a jewel in the middle, from where
All directions originate.
Ah! I remember

Some Artists Craft In Clay and Stone

Some artists craft
In clay and stone
Others wield paint, and pencil.
The empty space is filled with notes,
As four walls stand to shelter

I’ve been honing the craft
Of carving
Perfect hearts
Made of gold and inlaid with rubies
And pearls,
From lead.

I am not the artist.
I am merely
A tool.

I lie and wait in the studio.
The Master comes in
Drinking espresso enlightened with the
Milky Way
Scratches and pauses for a moment
Lifts me up.

A blade so sharp and precise
Nothing can withstand the

The work is laid out
The implements
Beyond imagining
All laid out,

Crafting a perfect
Human heart
Requires more than just sulphur,
Ash and mercury.
Sacrifice and surrender
Of human life
Is the secret

This is why you must learn to
While your heart
Still beats.

He who dies
Before he dies
Doesn’t die
When he dies.

So give up now,
I say to myself.
Give up the praise, arrogance,
Vanity and illusion.
Splinter your little raft
And go sailing
On your body
In the deep black ocean
Of mystery.

Have You Ever Sat and Watched

Have you ever sat
And watched a rosebud
Unfold at dawn
For the first time?

Sacred moisture drawn
From the mystery
Pushes the green door open,
So slowly
With tenderness and fragrance that can’t help
But break my heart.

Who has the patience
To sit, in silent presence
And hold space for whatever emerges from beyond
The veil?

Use caution, if you approach this one.

As the shards fall from your chest
Making music as they fall and
Dance on the floor,
My eyes burn into yours
Two bodies completely destroyed,
Only one spirit remains,
Reflected infinitely between the
In our chests.

Use caution, I say again.
Once you’re treasure chest is unlocked
And the rusted lock jams open
The universe inside will
What you used to imagine it meant,
What the fairy-tails told you was

In the destruction
You will be scattered
And spread across the face
Of All.
Nothing you have known about
Will make any sense, here.
Yield, to your deeper nature, and there
Is nothing
To fear.

If you have the courage,
Nothing could ever reward you
More richly
Than the sacred stream that flows
And is never
Less, coursing
Between you and I, my love.

How can this be?
If I am a bucket with a few drops
And I pour them
Into you
I am left with

If I take my bucket and fill it
From the headwaters
And guide you to the peak
Climbing slowly to
The climax
You can fill your bucket

When we arrive
We can collapse and hold
Within the truth of
Whatever it is
We feel.

Just know,
With absolute certainty,
That what you receive cannot ever
Be possessed.
If you grasp, you will destroy it.
As soon as you ask for it
It is lost.

But look inside, go
And you need never go without

Floating on a Pristine Lake Sobbing

Floating on a pristine lake
“I’m thirsty”
How can anyone quench
A need like this?

Set up an IV
But the
Veins are frozen

Breaking all the keys,
Chaining the body up and barricading
The door, and then
“Set me free!”
What can be done?

I call on the locksmith
Who informs me that you told him
He’s not welcome here.

A starving ox lies down in
An orchard,
The fragrance of a thousand
Perfectly ripe fruits
Hanging out their invitation
And quietly smiling
Dances on the palate;
She’s unable to accept
Any of it.

Perhaps all of these beloved
Friends, made a poor choice of
Companion, when they asked
The sage to join them.
A willow can only bend
So far
In the gale, before the roots
Come undone.
Perhaps you could have built
Your home
Under an ancient oak instead.

“You didn’t rescue me!”
They protest,
The tender holding and nurturing
Of the years
And washed away
In their flood of bitter tears.

“You didn’t push me!”
I confess
It’s true.
Please show me where
I agreed to?
The way of water flows down
To all the low places
To cleanse and refresh,
Wash them out.
There was never any need for pushing
A raft of your own

“You didn’t feed me!”
Not for lack
Of trying,
My sweet.
The hunger you have
Lives inside you,
But not in your
The orchard can delight the senses but,
The nourishment we all need
Also lives inside us
And satisfies
Only when it
Comes out.

I say this to myself:
All that I need
All that I could long for
Exists within
My body.
Why work so hard
And search
So far and wide,
When I can just reach inside,
Unlock the door,
And set myself

But what of those who need
To be needed?
Enable their actions,
Weaken yourself,
And prolong their suffering,
Softening all the sharp edges,
For a while.
Eventually the opiate required
To satisfy the craving
Is enough
To kill.
Only a true friend can
Walk away
Farewell, beloved.

A Thirsty Man with Indigestion

A thirsty man with
I wander the lands
Looking for a spring
Of unparalleled clarity.

With so many polluted streams
And full of shit,
I don’t kid myself.
I know that what I seek is

In the corners of the lips
Of everyone I pass
I sees how parched
The land is.

They find something clean enough
To survive from.
But not enough to
Heal them.

Sitting by a brown lake
A soft drizzle
The birds and frogs share secrets.
I see that what it really needs
Is movement.

I know that to find external clarity
I must get clean

Otherwise, I am just one more
Lost soul
Damaging the gifts I’ve so generously

I also received a map,
I just haven’t had the courage
To follow it,

With the Rising of the Sun

With the rising of the sun
After an impossibly long
And dark night,
My great wandering

At home in my body
A nomad is in harmony with All.
When rooted deeply, only the turning
Of the universe
Directs my path.

Scapegoat medicine means
Showing everyone
Everything they would rather not
In themselves.

It’s ok for you to be angry at me.
I can take it.
I know that behind the explosive rage is a
Boiling cauldron of grief
And despair.

If you need a blank,
Black canvas
To purge on,
Go ahead,
As long as you take
Your medicine.

Two Willows Bend

Two willows bend
to the earth trying,
so desperately,
to find
Common ground.

The willows are flexible but,
the frozen ground is brittle.
What is brittle
is easily broken.

Better that the willows stand tall
and survive to be warmed
by the rays of spring.

Tearing open the
Must it be so excruciating?

Cracking open an egg to make a cake,
Yes, the shell is destroyed.
the Essence transformed into a form
that delights the senses.
But, try to explain that one
To the hen!


devoid of identity
I crawl into a hole and wait
for what happens next.

Gestation means going
and then going inside

Until the tunnel opens onto
a plateau at the ceiling
of the world.

From here nothing can hide
from my eyes and
my knowing.

All the shame
and the endless beauty
stretched out over the face
of the universe.

I now truly know what is “I”
and I see what I thought was “I”
what they told me was “I”.
None of it was ever true.

What I am is greater than I can
like a river that has flooded
its banks
I can’t help but spill
of who
and what
I am

And so everywhere I walk
Thirsty people call out
“Thank you!”

I bow
Knowing that what has quenched
Them, is something I cannot control
Only allow.

Grace means saying
“You’re welcome”
For the eternally silent
Force, which nourishes all
And is never reduced
Knowing that it can never be
Or known

A Fruit

A fruit
This rare
And exotic
Cannot so easily be peeled
And turned
Into dung.

It’s no light snack!
It’s not the same as scratching
An itch
Or feeling release after
A good sneeze.

Fruit like this
To be held, so tenderly.

Massaged and warmed
By the hands
And the sun
Until the depth of
Its fragrance
Pours out to be received
By your eager

Take your time,
My friend.
Breathe, and relax.

You’ve waited so long
For this ambrosia,
Let it linger.
All of your senses have been
So patient.
Don’t snatch this away
From them.

Don’t leave your body
All alone, in this
Present moment

Listen to what your tongue
Is silently whispering to you
About the subtle hidden nature
of Love.

Or you may miss it, until
The next turning
Of the wheel
Of seasons.

A White Box

A white box
No windows
Let’s sit inside for a while
And search
For spirit…

The person in the
Box next to me

No matter how long I sit
With the bright fluorescent
Lights, God does not
Make an appearance.

What foolishness.
This emptiness I feel must
Be indigestion.

Looking down
The double barrels
Of a
I beg for my mind
To be

I had no idea I was waiting
In vain.

My mind is fine,
It’s the walls that need to be
The language door must
Be shut.

Teach me how to float
And dance.

Show me where I can find the door
From the white room, into my
Body. Did I give you the key?
I’m going to climb inside as soon
As I can pry open my

But then
Some doors are
To open.
“I’m terrified of what lies inside.”

I have been so comfortable in the
Simple answer, to the question,
“Who am I?”
That I’d rather imagine it is not
A question
At all.

As I climb inside this sacred
Transporter, unfathomably ancient,
I hear the songs
Under my feet.
I hear the songs flowing in and
Out of my me.

The gushing river of my
Heart. The tectonic plates in
My bowels.
Sweet and tender
Kindness pouring out
Through my liver
The emerald friends around me whispering
In an unending chorus which
Crescendos until my heart lies
Shattered on the forest

Who would have guessed that
All this
Was waiting
For me!

No One

No one, no human, can imagine the
compassion required to lovingly
Decapitate minds
for eternity.

Let the ocean pour from my body
I will flow down a river
or stream
and meet you

Teach me, please!
I want to know the
mysteries so deep,
only an insignificant fragment can fit into
this tiny human

Break me open
toss me from a cliff
and then rebuild me
in your

Teach me how to
swim in the mystery,
so when I lose myself in it
completely, I won’t thrash
like a drowning man
failing to know how
Safely held
I am.


scraping my belly on rough
planks, I’ve been travelling across
this bridge
my whole life.

Scattered corpses and hungry
ghosts, protest
“give up now, there is no hope.”
I wonder what grace
stuck its fingers
in my

Eyes closed, fingertips raw
the texture of the ground
has changed.

I cannot comprehend
the beauty of what greets my heart
the crust that has covered my
eyes, cracks
and the light pours in.

I have finally reached
the other side
the inner

Now my journey

Sharpening the Mind

Sharpening the mind,
softening the heart,
I polish all the
rough edges of
my soul.

When my heart opens it
Not everyone appreciates
the message.

Rain pours down
fills all the puddles
and basins.
To some, the reflections are
too uncomfortable.

Water and love explain
with their infinite capacity
that everything I need to
stay full
is There
inside the inner door.

When I stop and remember
where I forgot the key,
take the time to patiently
wiggle open the lock,
all I can say is,
Thank you. Here I am!

How Bright Can I Shine

How bright can I
with the light of the entire
creation pouring through
my heart?

When blocked
casting a shadow so deep
the void within holds all

Only an incomplete understanding
of the truth
can ever be

An Oak Scrapes the Sky

An oak scrapes the sky
playing with the clouds between
its fingers.

But how long could it stand
without roots?
how long could it linger in
the grace of heaven without
being planted deep,
and wide,
in the earth?

I cannot experience something
which is absent,
I only experience
the holes and
residue left
inside me.

Once my favourite tree has
rotted into mulch
and moved on
all I can experience is
Is there any gift which is

Tearful the Sky

Tearful the sky
lets it all go.

Black cloth wrapped around
I drink bitters
want to digest

Raven descends
cover my grieving with your
black wings,
I beg you.

Wrap me up
in protection so I can be
stripped naked,
souls can release
their embrace.

My heart is an empty bucket suspended
on a string.
Lowered slowly into
the well,
for the mystery
to slide in.

How Many Feet

How many feet can
tread across a mat
before the “welcome”
is worn out?

37,261 soles
crossing the threshold.

why was the mat needed?
Didn’t you receive my
personal invitation?
I’m sitting inside and wondering,
the clock keeps me company.

The message has been inviting you,
the inner door
was locked.
Whatever became of the key?

An unfortunate dishonesty,
a necessary protection,
has been slowly rubbed away and
by the passages.

And yet,
after so long,
who could avoid the grief
of its disintegration?

We sit in at the funeral
the angels hand out soothing
to the mourners and-
the service is starting.

So Many Paths

So many paths
and streams
all leading to the

What grace created
a universe with so many roads

Is life such a burden
that we must give
it to something higher
and say,
“Can you take care of this?”

It’s too far to carry it to spirit,
I’ll give it to my neighbour

The Ocean Sits

The ocean sits
in a shattered chalice.

Pull away the rim and
all the spokes
from the hub.

The planets and the
between them
by the sun.

What could be more
and glorious
than containing

Now all I need
is to learn
to contain
and hold

A marionette

A marionette,
Held aloft and
Pulled along.

I never realized how many cords
Tied me to the will
Of others until
I learned to get creative
With scissors.

Little did I realize, you
Have been
A puppet, too.

The stars and galaxies have
Been dancing us away into time
And space
My love.

Once we danced together
A string, long beyond
Imagining, knotted at
Our hearts.

But two galaxies dancing
In opposite directions
And hard.

The slack disappears
But my tongue can’t bear to
Contort itself into the
Shapes that annunciate

So have my
As a parting gift.
Let’s dance one last



If we linger on
The whetstone too
Long, this universe
Will grind us
Into iron

We walk all day
Our paths
Never cross.

I’m burning down the
Whole world
To find a clearing for
Our home.

The ash
And bones
Pile up.

At night
As our souls wander
We meet and live out
Sweet, safe dreams.

A cottage in the woods
Birch logs whisper in the hearth
A fresh babe between
Your breasts
All of us

Can your world
And my world meet
Greet with a kiss and walk
A while?

Or are we truly destined to
Watch each other
From a distance
And weep
In bitter longing
At all we might have

Living in a cave

Living in a cave,
How long does
It take
To forget the smoldering
Of the sun?

A world apart,
No silver shimmering of moon,
The tender nuzzling caress
Of the wind
No longer gracing the
Fine hair of your

O the will it takes
To completely forget
The pleasure of being
In love.

But the ascetics
And kogi’s know the sacred
Mysterious secrets of being
In the prison
Of the goddess.

The effect of the pressure
And inescapable heat
On an impure

Eons of suffering
And denial,
However unnecessary,
Pay dividends so precious
Your desiring

I see my train coming.

Men from the whole kingdom

Men from the whole kingdom
The great merchant
Is opening her warehouse
For just one

Selling soft options
Perfect rubies the size of pomegranates
Maps to comfortable shortcuts
Easy answers
And tender mysteries
So precious
I cannot say.

Night falls
The crowd stirs
The doors swing open
A sign
In an otherwise empty space
“Go home.”

The men crawl away
Trembling and sobbing
Crushed by the gravity
Of their loss.

Wives greet their husbands
On doorsteps
And in fields.
The land is lush
With soft embrace
And perfect hearts
With golden honey.

Laughing and satisfied
I celebrate with my family.

We wait patiently
Inside this poem, here
For the day
When the courageous merchant
Opens her doors of light

When you seek with purpose

When you seek with purpose
You are lost.

Speak slowly
And softly.
Listen with tenderness
Luxuriate in conversation
But speak only in

Be a bear
Wander to the peaks
Drink from the snow melt
Listen to the gush
Of the rivers in

Drinking deeply
Without purpose
Explore the mysteries
Of the well
That nourishes
And is never

Carry the seeds
In your pouch
But do not give them back
To the soil
Unless you want them
To grow!
Keep them to nourish
The tree of life is

Watch the sun
Caressing the moon
Pressing against her
Honeyed lips

I say this
To myself:
A life without purpose
Or direction
Is never
Moving slowly and freely
I find myself
In the right place

Abandon names

Abandon names
Abandon form.

Every name ever spoken was
A lie.

To name something is to pretend
To know it.
As humans we are gifted
Only of our limitations

Surrender all of your “self”
All that is human
So that you may
Your ladle
Into slow and
Potent sensuality,
Shattering your dreams

And illusions.

This universe is a river

This universe is a river
I am a cup.

I am full of trust.

I am empty of desire.

Owl medicine carries me high
Into a mystery
Few vessels could

This expansion;
Every cell vibrates
A self contained galaxy

A watering hole so wide
All who attempt escape
In struggle.

To receive all
The clay cistern is planted firmly
In the ground.

It never asks,
“Do I deserve?”

The gates made of light open

The gates made of light open
Before me.

All the treasures of heaven
The soul cries out
I tremble
Cannot speak.

I see wings, halos, angels.

Freedom so pure and clean
More fresh than the water of
Any earthly spring or

I struggle to inch forward
My feet are rooted
And bound.

Release me! I demand.
The angels

Release yourself.

A crescent moon blade
Bathed in sapphire flame
Rests at my feet

I hack and slash and saw.


Now I weep

Where is Spirit
In this cruelty?

How dare you ask me
To give up my

To abandon
What has carried me
So far
And so long?

“The leaden paws must
Become wings of

I am silent.

In terror
And denial
I want to close my ears.

But how
Could I deny glory

Wandering together

Wandering together
Dressed in white,
Flowers in our hair
Old friends in a parade.

Giggling and tender,
Raucous laughter
Being carried by a fragrant breeze

Where are we stumbling to?
None of us care to ask.

Our heart buzzes,
Golden melting honey
From the sun
Makes the path slick and sticky.

You slip and fall in
An eruption
Of joy.

None laugh harder
Than you
At the absurdity
Of this dance called

The child in me

The child in me
Is madly
In love
With the child in

You are another
Myself! But
Your guardians
They lock the gate.

I’ve spent my whole
Life sculpting a clay pot
Enormous enough to contain
This longing.

When I come home
To my body it asks
Where is the beloved?
I fall into my pot
And slowly fill it up.

The gate is locked
And I have
Swallowed the key.

To embrace you I must search
For what might be
Through my shit.

I’m held, carried by
The floodwaters
I sit in my pot and think,
“Well, here I am”
I wanted to imagine this flood
Would never come.

All I was is swept
By the tears
Of ecstasy.

The strength of your ebb

The strength of your ebb
Pulls me in,
In the force of your flow
I am crushed

The more I ask
Who am I?
The more the sediment

I have said,
“This is not me
This is the pain!”
And the surrendering reveals
It was my essence
All along.

I have said,
“As I heal
This will go”
Only to comprehend
Everything I rejected
Is I.

What is the living out
Of an injury
But eventual freedom from it
Or death?

Today I am free
From who I thought I

You look into these eyes

You look into these eyes
I see your expression
“He’s a madman!”

These are eyes that
Have seen

What is bliss?
I cannot say.
My voice is a whisper
And pulled under
By the tranquillity.

What is union?
I cannot say.
There is no ‘I’ left to perceive
The One.

I was born without

I was born without
A glass cover on my

No one know the pain
Of too much tenderness
Better than I.

I am the Ocean.
Friends and loved ones
Gather around
And beg
For just one wave.

How can this be?
How can you ask a storm-cloud
For just one drop?

Lose yourself
In my storm

Leave your terror on the shore
Be thrashed
By wave upon wave
Against the rocks

Until the lightning
Is reflected a million times
In the shattered fragments
Of the glass
That held your heart

Until all that kept you
Returns to

Only once you surrender
Your sand to the ocean
Can you ever hope to find that

The moon is dark

The moon is dark
The door is open.

Be a tall, thin candle with me
We can watch each other
Through the smokey hours
Of the night.

I’ve seen that kind of candle before
In a long forgotten dream
Casting shadows
I stumble blindly after staring at it
Too long.

Only able to perceive
In my mind
With my eyes
The glory of the Beloved
Burned into

I close my eyes
step through the shadow door
There you are.

Anyone can penetrate my flesh

Anyone can penetrate my flesh.
Will you pry apart my heart and slice open my soul?

Stab at me with your softened gaze
For eternity,
Your eyelashes are swaying grass
On the edge of the oasis.

I can cry all night.

How many tears can your cup hold?
And do you have the courage to take a sip?
Or are you lost on the moon
Searching for a wandering child?

The child is in my arms.
Feeling safe
Smelling the wind on my skin.

When you’ve had enough
Of wandering in quiet terror
We’re waiting for you
With a bowl of quiet tenderness

I stumble into your lap

I stumble into your lap
Stupefied by a secret booze
Produced in my glands.

Break me open, I beg you!
Breathe your songs into my longing.
My cup is full
Trembling and desperate to overflow.

Pour your flowing ocean of tenderness
Over me.
Cradle and bathe me like a babe,
and we’ll giggle like children
at the forgotten concept
of “two”

My heart is simple

My heart is a simple
Content child
Who has stumbled onto a treasure-trove
On the beach.

Weeping, reality annihilated
I ask, “How do I keep my ‘self’ in the face of this?”

The tragic answer:
Keep the wealth and put it to use.
Let the illusion of self
Wash away with the tide.

I must risk my broken body
Washing up in a foreign land
For a kiss
The Beloved