Ocean Swallows Itself
Moon
An incessant traveler
Time sails for no one
first crow
Wind rustles the dead leaves outside my window
Thundering silence
Waves goodbye to autumn
A sonorous reflection of an echo seems to desire to listen...
To its own song
We are the longing that pulls us along
Under the name
Not even a shadow
A pause
Shot through itself
Completing a circle
That was never drawn
Morning light listens
As night falls asleep
On my bed
In the garden
Nestling in dreams of sleep
The forgotten almost remembered
whispers what you fear
Yet long to hear
this is your only breath
Night sleeps in the garden
Nestled in the leaves of darkness
Starlight dreams
Wind brushes the petals of longing
Turning tossing
Rippling over and under and through each other
Reflections of yesterday’s mirrors
Pull and push
Night into day
Day into night
A breath
A heartbeat
Rustles the leaves
Write and erase my footsteps in sand
Colors bleed without your breath to burn the embers of time
Wind dies without your lips to kiss the words
Water has no wetness
Taste has no taste
Love has no love
Without your song
Singing you
The ocean swallows itself
First crow
starlit dawn
empty cliff path
Leads to the sunrise
Long yellow flowers in the wind
Poems sing me into the morning
Unraveled by her own love
Kissed again into the love dance
We know this love that pulls us along
We are it
No words for this love
Yet love is a word
What whispered your name in the dark moonlight
Sideways glance
Reveals no singer
morning glory
the hush of dawn
Stretch your toes into the day time dream
Unending parentheses reverberating outwards and inwards, flowing ripples of space crossing over and under each other weaving a self illumined bejeweled fabric of echoes of echoes of echoes.
Night in day, day in night, the evening breeze flows through the canyon. Not longing for the dark or dawn the moon Lilly blooms. Sometimes the moon sails her petals into my heart and they bloom on this light screen. My thumb tapping the color of love into the dream.
Old stone walkway
Cows in the empty flower market
We watch them stand
One faltering street lamp
Sound of midnight
Listens to the flowers blooming
Nothing was bound by these ropes
Not even the sky
ancient river
Rusty temple bells
Wind sings
wordless waves
Cliffside lodging
Slides into the sea
Forever collapses into never
the breath of moonlight
Come a little closer
What did you say?
I cannot hear your words
I am melting into your beauty
No bridge between here and there
Between you and I
Between yesterday and tomorrow
It collapsed when you tried to cross it
day dreams crumble into night
Tree frogs sing
Long afternoon of summer
lanterned petals waving
Sunset kisses your tender cheek
This precious ache of no tomorrow
Rocked in the cradle of moon glow
Morning sings
Day unfolds into itself
Light has no weight
Time turns around and looks at itself
I hear my voice mummering in the distance
I look for my footsteps
The edges of my song
My breath is the wind
That scattered them
She wandered the beaches looking for one smooth stone that would match the one in her pocket. Wind blew the tops of the waves backwards, laughing, swirling sand in her footsteps. Endless ocean swallowed it’s sandy shore. Endless sky fell into itself. She lost all ideas of direction in the sound of sea. Ideas of a perfect love crumbled as she discovered her aloneness. Stark yet beautiful time dissolved into itself. As the dawn rose on an empty beach she found herself walking.
Silence
shimmering sea
Reflections singing sky
Transparency of light
Weighs down the night
We are the remembering
Trails of stars fell into this dream
Love lost it’s shadow
In the empty dawn
Love planted it’s poem in the halls of no tomorrow
A weight of words that could not be heard
Nor sung
Listening for the dawn
Sorrow it’s own emptiness
He stood on the distant shore
Waiting for his echo
He peered into the looking
Folding into and through himself
Missives of love unanswered
Garlands of marigolds washing up in the sand
Poems flood through me, write me and erase me, fill me and empty me, create me and vanquish me.
There is no shield between you and love or sorrow. How can you remove the wetness from your tears?
Where is the love in love?
The wetness of wet?
The taste of taste?
The looking for what’s looking buries mirrors in the sands of sorrow.
As hope drowns in the sea’s reflection, an amazing lightness is born.
Dancing on the edge of memory
Surrounded by darkness
No where to go but death
This vibrant aliveness you feel always is the magic that you are. Life touching, feeling it’s own aliveness through you.
Where is the space between two people laughing? Where is the space between two people weeping?
How close can I get with these words? How far is near? Where is the horizon between here and there? The lines and squiggles of these letters these words these thoughts that paint the sky weeping, never really divide the page into pieces. Never really sail across the paper maché moon. Only an origami boat made of tears can drown, like you with your crumpled books, so tired of looking for your face and who made it. Behind the mirror there was nothing, not even silence.
These poems form my bones and sing my teeth and lips and tears and claws.
New year
New moon
New dawn
Won’t bring the new you you long for
The one who has no desire.
The one who has only pleasant thoughts and emotions.
The one who no longer feels utterly alone.
Maybe you are desire and thought, maybe you are utterly alone? Maybe there is no tomorrow?
Perhaps all you can know is this vibrant scintillating aliveness that you feel. The symphony of perception and the simultaneous recognition of it is the confirmation of this always on aliveness. This flowing thought that seems to describe it seems to create a you and experience, seems to create a wall between an inside and out. A transparent window where there is no one looking out and nothing to be seen until you appear, a reflection of a reflection of a sourceless echo. A wisp of circulating memory that gives a feeling of solidly. You know there is no solidity. You know this is it coyote, and you know it is far more wondrous than you could ever capture.
There is no one wearing your nakedness.
The enormity of the uncaptureable vastness of unknowing is far greater than awe or love... the awe of awe, the amazement of amazement, we are this flowing edgeless dreamscape that cannot be swallowed as all songs sing it.
We crashed through the mirror
Every shard pierced our already bleeding hearts
Inside falls through outside and spits you out of its stomach
Laughing and weeping drunk on love
The scent and sound of the memory of the rainstorm in last night’s dream tastes like this.
The crest of the wave falling through itself
Wet in wet
Light in light
Where is the sorrow of no tomorrow that swallows itself in this overflowing brilliance?
How can a word capture this love? ...yet love and sorrow and joy and awe are words, as are we. The marvelousness of thingness when there are no things truly blows me away continuously.
Reflections of reflections of reflections, memory sings us into the song and our hearts burst as we hear our own majesty. Centerless infinitely faceted spinning jewels. We are a point of view, but it can be known and felt that there are no reference points whatsoever....
Most long to realize this is a dream
No one longs to realize that they are being dreamt
How long are you going to pretend that you are on a path to a state of perfection? Where there will be no more desire or anger or sorrow? When you will be free from the fear of death? How long are you going to pretend that all you have ever loved or will love will die and be forgotten?
How long can you pretend that maybe that overwhelming aloneness you feel may be true?
First crows ...
Punctuate the waves
Songs flow
Husband sleeps
Morning yawns
pouring honey on the sea
Brown leaf falls behind the shade
Caught in window’s curtain
Spinning wildly
Love and death
Life’s mad dance
Turns you inside out
Punctuates the syllables
That write your timeline
As you fall fall fall
Into wind
Scattered phrases dance on the edge of death
waves of unknowing
Plow furrows of dreams
unsown
Starlight beckons you
To take this footless path
These flames of love
Burn the caverns of language
Never heard
never unsaid
sunrise was yesterday’s dream
Closer than your very breath
More intimate than your tongue in your mouth
Or your heartbeat
Closer than close this cannot be seen or touched
Noon day sun reaps shadows of midnight
Held in its own embrace
The taste of taste in circular motion
Spinning madly trying to look at the other side of the mirror you fall through
Laughing and crying
There was nothing to get
And no one to get it.
The steps of his camel started to falter in the afternoon. He felt that this next mirage might have water, and it did. Laying down under the canopy of stars that night the fear he had held at bay for a lifetime began to consume him. Maybe he would never find home? He lost sight of his hands in the constellations as they swirled into beautiful meaningless patterns. Strewn bits of light tossed by the wind’s reflection pulled him up into a vast edgeless flowing. A darkness he had denied pierced his heart as it exploded into infinite bits of empty.
In the morning the gypsies started to pack their caravan. He watched their mirrored skirts reflect his weatherbeaten face and realized no one had won the war with the stars. No one lost. A sublime peace had filled and emptied him as he watched his footsteps in the swirling sand.
Searching for a time beyond time
Beyond the ocean of death.
May leave you spinning
Until you recognize that this no time is all the time you have
This is it coyote.
Words cascade onto this page scattering waves of sorrow on windows of transparency
Peering out into the unknown
Letters stretch across a leaking horizon
Invisible ink runs down my face
Sunrise waits until the crows announce the day. My husband sleeps while I sing. Waves have their own rhythm yet there is none. Caressed in my own softness, I am the dream.
Such beauty when beauty is known to be made up. Such love knowing love is made up. Rich and full beyond measure, this unowned life. A Centerless jewel, empty beyond empty yet full. Measureless...
I am the longing to sing of what cannot be sung, and the sublime melancholy of knowing there is no singer nor song without imaginary others in the dream. The utter enormity of emptiness overflowing.
I always am on the verge of tears
Not of sorrow or joy
Just the overwhelming wondrous ness of life as it seems to appear.
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