Saturday, October 30, 2021

I am the loving of you

songs like ancient mirrors hover on the tip of your tongue
fall through the transparency of memory
that separated sorrow and joy
all 
softly
dissolves in echoes of luminescence… 
no one can find their own absence

stretching her fingers into sky
the old pecan tree rests in the cradle of night
stars slide through the ache of silence
fallling

wind sighs
sky deep in the absence of moon

dawn’s hunger consumes the night
one by one left over stars disappear
where is the starlight no one can taste?
it is in the thirst for an ocean no one can hear

ricochet of love slides through all words of love,
this apparent movement is love's fire burning herself
this love outshines all ideas of love... 
seamless sensuous aliveness uncaused untethered without time or timelessness… 
~~~~~

A Cut Of The Deepest Intimacy




this dream of life dreams itself
imaginary dancers seem to whirl and spin through dream space and time 
and some seem to be looking for a dance outside of the music of life of love, of this
unspeakable
beauty, this magic that all dancers know
deeply
can never be found
or lost…
you can hear your heartbeat
and when you press your head against my chest you can hear mine
we can look into each other’s eyes and marvel at the wonder of life of love of the magic of this utter unknowing….
and your questions may cease, or not… but I cannot stop your desire to know
to capture this unfathomable magic,
I know it is part of your magic

…there are no answers to life as life is dancing you spinning you into a day dream, not separate from the night,
weaving and unweaving a tapestry of light and dark and
colors
blooming…

morning sings 
and we sing of wind brushing away the dark 
sun pouring down the canyon
and we are the singing and the listening to the world sing itself

there is no understanding what life is
no true reality underneath what seems to appear
no false reality
no reality… 
only this dream of life dreaming itself
and I sing
‘it is all love falling in love with itself’
and that may not empty your questions
and fill that bottomless treasure chest that is your heart
breathing the rhythm of life

and the wind and the sun and the doves 
floating to the ground

and as the evening faded from indigo into invisible ultraviolet hues
shimmering
just beyond my eyes
my hands my face my heart dissolved in this cascade of infinite brilliant transparency and I was consumed in the colors of love
all my hopes and dreams and fears, …everything and everyone melted in love’s inexhaustible flames
dissolved in this ocean of fire
of love
of nothing at all

and who is this girl this woman this songster who is danced in this watercolor ballet of life twirling along the timeless empty sidewalks
streaming poems through her fingers 
…a continual kiss in the keys of life
wholly fully alive without a center or edge…
old scratchy phonographs playing ancient sea dreams
in a beautiful mysterious abandoned house
elegant spiral staircases leading into endless sky
that long ago perhaps, someone walked down twirling in her new dress
or slid down the banister laughing
or sat on the top step dreaming of a future love that never came
weeping at nothing weeping at everything
and that undeniable ache to see over the rainbow

love burns all and everything as it dreams this dream of love without other, this beauty that strikes the chords of unknowing playing love’s symphony of undeniable wonder
the dream of love weaves itself out of dream threads, and simultaneously dissolves without a source or home to return to, 
love has never been
or not…


~~~~~

real and unreal are simply ideas, as are you, as are all 'things.
 this without other, what ever seems to appear, is as real and unreal as it seems. there is no bigger or better reality 'over there' somewhere, but the thought that there is may arise and is that thought 'real'?
how thick, how substantial is thought? 
when thought stops for just an instant, you and your world disappear.
that should tell you all you need to know


~~~~~

I am echoes of echoes
the silent ache of the evening wind…
wings of night
wings of sorrow
wings of joy
beat my heart
soaring through light and shadow
breathing through the in between
'till all anchors are cut
and wind is abandoned
along the shores of an edgeless sea
where no one found a harbor
or waited on an empty beach
waiting to hear her own echo,
and return to the sea dream where love seemed to reside

love appeared to be separate from her
all the stories painted this marvelous reunion
but it would never come to be
there were no tomorrows
no seas to cross
no lover to wait for
simply words falling apart into tattered love letters into meaningless symbols
signifying nothing
…no sea no love no lovers dreaming
flowering into echoes of love
falling

sea dreams of water
water dreams of sea
love dreams of lovers
lovers dream of love
and who could say where the waters part
when the horizon that held your reflection has broken?

~~~~~

words skim the sea of night
plunge through their own echo leaving
waves of sound
and silence
shimmering in this morning song
and who can bathe in her reflection
when all is reflection? 



and thought seems to spin to catch its own tale, and the tale is that it is spinning... the weaving of a thought scape with a center.... like wind trying to hold on to itself or find its source or destination…


…and love spreads her wings and beats our hearts and erases the imaginary center as well as all imagined edges…

~~~~~

wings of midnight
echo in the trees at dawn
where is the darkness you hide,
and the light you long for?

finding nothing but this hush before the day begins
you long to remain as you disappear…

liquidity of silence hovers in the garden
bathed in waves of starlight
pinpricks in the dark promise endless sky beyond
but they are only words,
like the notes in a song they have no meaning
or non meaning
ancient stories of gods and demons appear to slide across the sky
but they are just stories 
they do not exist without words
and neither do you

you are the looking for a map to this idea of wholeness or unicity
daydreaming of future treasures
when all will be light
but light is an idea
it does not exist outside of the word
or inside
there are no things divided by space
or a streaming event called you strung along a timeline from birth to death
tell me about your birth, your first memories
how do you know they are not fairy tales 
how do you know you are not a fairy tale
written by thought 
that even writes itself into this wondrous dream of things

ocean swallows itself
not even oneness remains,
nor an empty space where it once was

~~~~~

aching beauty of golden newly fallen 
stories of autumn
flow through the empty pockets of this unlined heart
carpet this cascading dream time poem
with undeniable richness

I am a floating stream of ideas
songs
soaring
liquid beauty pouring
not traceable, utterly ungraspable, without patterns or rhythms,
without movement or any non movement at all…

ancient tales cast upon a sea of of words
look for their own reflection
but all nets come up empty
the threads of thought webs are simply drenched
with glistening
light and shadow shimmering in the wetness of these tears
or is this starlight
bathing my cheeks
….all definitions dissolve into acres of sky

I am an ancient fairy tale
read and forgotten
long long ago before time was not
a scratchy phonograph record playing
haunting love songs
evoking mystery and wonder

we are this magical music
hovering between sound and silence
and nothing at all

~~~~~

and she fell into her reflection and dissolved in the obviousness of side-less-ness…
from where could she return
when there was no one to leave?
words leave no trail
they only circle back into themselves
…spiral without beginning or end
leading no where
time and place and love are words
word is a word

tears
float
through this river of song
there is no finding a source or place outside of this wetness
super saturating the dream of
love
floating
in love

~~~~~

wind dissolved the morning
where memory slept under rainbows
leaking into sky…
what are these photographs of wind I pulled to my chest
trying to open the heart of love?
what are these words, these pictures of unseen beauty, I tried to swallow
but never could quite believe….. as other could never be found
tomorrow never came…

drowning in oceans of flames
where was the fire of my aloneness
not
where was the fire of love
not
when was I
not
sky deep in love

~~~~~

golden butterfly
suspended in the lace of morning
wings of thought softly
brush
colors into this poem

petals of wind 
gently
sweep night under the skirts of sky
revealing dawn’s splendorous refection shimmering in mine
no one is listening to these echos painting and dissolving the footprints of wind rushing by the window
where my reflection
once
hovered
waiting for morning to spill darkness out of my eyes
~~~~~

love pierces every pore of your being from the inside and out and melts your skin you eyes your mouth your heart in a fire of unbelievable ecstasy
is it pain is it sorrow is it joy is it bliss, this love that has no names and cannot be thought of, but is all words all names all ideas all thought…. 
love is not one thing nor is it all things… yet it is both of these and neither
no one to feel separate from it, no it to be separate from

the uneasy feeling of uncertainty and the desperate looking for solidity melts into the feeling of a most delicious love when there is no one to whom feeling is happening… 
along with the death of belief of a never arising next... it feels more like
floating..
love softly soaring through her own arms
an ever present gentle tender kiss…
when there are not two lips nor one mouth
nor one edgeless heart exploding and imploding infinitely

calling this love may sound paltry, as most seem to equate love with a hunger, a neediness for love to be returned, as if love were a thing separate from us or life or death... but love is the feeling of there being no things to be separate or joined into a thing called wholeness or emptiness
or no thing or everything…
just this love
and not even that

and who would find the edge of love
when you are the looking for an imagined cleft in the sky from where the music of life pours
and surrounds you and swallows you in a sing along ecstatic chorus where you seem to have a part to play
but can never find your footsteps or your shadow
or a place outside of yourself
or in

~~~~~

through your beautiful beautiful eyes 
love falls in love with itself

~~~~~



morning sun
shadows slide
into an unseen kiss of dark and night

my heart was ripped out of shades of grey
love eviscerated the illusion of sides
I was plunged into echoes of whirlpools
dissolved into
rainbows
colors
leaking
all over this page

~~~~~


again and again your wings were singed in love’s intoxicating fire
until there was no more trying to reach the light…
you plunged into love’s inevitable flames
and you were fully consumed
along with your world,
and all ideas of emptiness…
that beautiful fatal kiss when the wings of your heart’s last beat fused what was never apart, 
love soars with not one wing, nor two, nor none
petals of perfection opening and sighing in the empty breast of love

~~~~~

opalescent wings of pre dawn songs
soar from moon to moon on reflected light

is space empty or full of this dream of echoes
or do sound and silence define the edges of the shell
words softly caress the fluid pearlescence reverberating in your empty heart
broken now from the sheer force of endless seas
rushing
and receding into their own wetness

~~~~~

shallow wind skims across the star strewn garden
love stirs in the newly fallen leaves
daylight hits the shores of no tomorrow
and I am this limitless breaking heart that ripples and sings and 
weeps at the unfathomable beauty of hearts breaking and love
weeping at the beauty of her own tears

words are the magic wand creating the illusion of separation
they paint an imaginary thing that splits
asunder
thunder and lightening 
awareness and perception
truth and falsehood
but words are simply sourceless echoes
reverberating through echoes
love’s infinite tears
sliding through their own wetness

~~~~~

feathered grace of light in light
wind flows through wind
one wing sorrow
one wing joy
incomprehensible
undeniably
tears
without name or number or reason or non reason
sensuously scrumptiously deliciously flow
wet into wet

love
floats
without inside or out
softly 
gently
ocean into ocean
love into love


~~~~~

there is no ultimate reality
the real is illusion
as well as the unreal
emptiness is free of emptiness
illusion is illusion
there is no illusion
neither existence nor non existence exists
there is no emptiness or fullness
nor anyone asking why
there is no confusion nor non confusion
there are no questions nor answers
not even a sliding dream show punctuated with stars,
light and dark, as well as all this and that, is imaginary,
and there is no one imagining
this cannot be seen or un seen
as there is no one who would see or ignore this
this is not conceivable nor is it inconceivable
there is no this, or it
there is no perfection or imperfection
there is no meaning nor non meaning to this song

relentless love sears your eyes
rips your flesh
burns your bones
evaporates your ashes and the earth and sky that swallowed you
is this oblivion when there was never anything or nothing?
no time or space to be empty or full…
this is not conceivable nor is it inconceivable

feels like love
yet there is no love
no one speaking, no one listening
no one loving you
weeping
at the beauty of love

~~~~~

I am echoes of tears that never happened and never will…
echoes swallow their own sound
tears dissolve their own wetness
emptiness falls through its own absence
and love
swoons through its own embrace
and there are no empty arms
reaching into sky
trying to fly

winged ballet of incomprehensible wonder
soars
without time or its absence

and words spiral and reach into sky
and cannot find any lines
only the skinless sound
of love’s unutterable light

~~~~~



reaching out to touch the shimmering
you find only bits of broken glass strewn across the softness of endless desert sands,
and the howl of relentless sky

…or was it darkness you wished to plunge through,
to stick your head into this unassailable light…
you feel you remember when you were but atoms spinning clouds of sky
reflecting and dissolving into the reds and oranges of sunset and the cold dark blues of ice

when did colored photographs turn into black and white?
when was life not a movie that cannot go back or forward
or
hover,
the middle of a dream
is only dream

poems may tumble or sway or sing or rip apart this hint of a melody
barely
remembered
like an echo of a dream, a reflection of a rainbow disappearing 
…beauty, just missed... 
is beautiful
we share this longing it is our beauty to soar with the morning doves
softly feathers falling on the
rippling 
hands reaching and finding
nothing
not even hands reaching

no one basks in the wonder of unknowing.... or is suspended as love 
love sings and unravels itself and
spirals into songs of relentless sky
shimmering just
beyond
your grasp

what melts all notions of dark and light
and a someone who could hold the day?
what is beautiful what is not? what is love
what is not?
who could possible ask these questions and who
could possibly know

~~~~~

how many words for this love that has none but is all words...
how many tears for this wetness that has plunged me into the darkest deepest depths of unknowing.... and lit up the universe with galaxies of wonderment spinning this unbearably beautiful dream of love...
how to measure love when love is all…
and there is no love

~~~~~

galaxies of moon songs pour through your chest
unravelling waves of sky
and ocean feathers 
falling
into an indescribable softness
birds dissolve into flight
flowers melt into multi petaled colors
pouring through your eyes
your heart
where love is singing
‘hello I love you…
I am you’

~~~~~

in this dream within a dream within a dream
space cascades
softly
gently
wildly
through her own echo
leaving no sound or silence

time pours through
herself
and empties the mirror and
her reflection

love dances with her utter perfection
and beckons you into this dance that you can never enter or leave
as you are not
nor is love

in this dream within a dream within a dream
that never was nor will ever be
there is just this waltz of love
and simultaneously nothing at all

what can be said about the dream when all words are dream words

~~~~~

summer hovers in yesternight’s footsteps
autumn clouds extinguish all stars
shoes long abandoned by the side of the road
pour into the milky way
dancing

people assume that enlightenment means that there is a someone not effected by the passion play, but it simply does not feel like there are separate things or separate someones within it or without it, as there is no outside, or inside.
 there is no one in peace or bliss or love... yet it feels like the play is a love song singing itself dancing itself, without time or timelessness.... 
an obvious baseless shimmering of echos, of reflections of nothing at all. 

this passion play continues and our silhouettes seem to form and are painted in by love, by this longing to share this utter mind-blowing love that is this seamless-ness, and yet cannot be shared, as there is no outside of it and no it to grasp or share and no one with whom this can be shared... 

this is the broken hearted beauty of our humanness.... 
this call and answer love song without a singer, 
this dream without a dreamer, 
this love without lovers...

~~~~~

shimmering reflections of echoes sing our names and the names of all things that have no solidity or liquidity, or any actual existence or non existence at all…..
transparent weightless ideas woven of thought dissolve into waves  of forever blue and deep dark seas roiling and evaporating into not even nothing… where oceans dive into sky and horizons crash…
we are dreams of dreams, we are feathered rainbows dissolving into wing tips of space softly
falling
petaled
grace

stories of valor and defeat
stories of time and space and
love,…
we are wondrous stories of knowing
and unknowing
neither more majestic or weak or true or false
golden leaves and faded petals tumble
breathing autumn into the garden
low sigh of rain 
just ending
lace of words etch an arc in sky
paint colors in your eyes…
rainbows
drift
into an indelible softness
erasing itself before the world appears

~~~~~

life is love is magic appearing and dissolving without time or dimension
sunset hovers on the banks of no tomorrow
breathes golden and red and deep oranges
burns the shadows of morning
consume the descending light
intoxicated with its own unutterable perfection through our eyes

~~~~~

how can you capture this obvious magic
when all is magic?
including the looking for it,
the feeling that you have it,
and the feeling that you do not

can more ideas dissolve the fabric of ideas,
can more beliefs clear the pool of beliefs?

plunge your hand into the water and try to push away the ripples…
…peer into the whirling and try to not see your beautiful shimmering reflection

can more words dissipate the belief in words?
how can you hold the dream when you are dreamt?

how can you get more sky
when all is sky?
where will you find more love
when all is love?
where would emptiness hide
when all is empty


~~~~~


thought builds and rips apart moons and mountains
paints this day and colors in these golden sunflowers
blooming
and the stark absence of summer’s hues as autumn flows into the garden


what spills roiling seas into sky
burns the horizon
decimates these glowing desert sands,
and the distant thunder of storms brewing,
fire on the mountain,
this ache in your heart
riotous laughter
love and love lost and this longing for it all

who would escape this agonizing despair and grief?
who would find the silence in the deepest of sleeps?
who could capture the utter darkness of this cloudy night
the burning brilliance in the night time dream,
and the hush in-between
the hush?

what tears the fabric of thought
destroys time and space and any notion of emptiness and void,
and the belief in long roads with glittering treasures at the end
or any place or space or time,
anyone to begin a journey
and anyone to arrive?

how can love be
when it is not?

what plunges your heart into the bottomless depths of unknowing
until your heart your life is no longer yours?
no owner of love or life can be found
nor anyone looking

nothing separate exists
nor any one big all encompassing thing
there are no things nor non things
not even love…
yet, all is, indeed, love
you know that

~~~~~

this is a cut of the deepest intimacy
lightening strikes itself

~~~~~

and the billowing crashes and recedes
without movement or stillness
without sound or silence
echoes
breathe

~~~~~


I am often asked why I write these songs?
it does not feel like I am doing anything... 
more like a magic feathered pen soaring through
sky
written with air in air,
winged wonder of a script written with invisible ink... or perhaps tears…

the most delicate of winds caresses and forms the outline of my beauty, as your breath informs my mouth my lips my tongue and this song

whirlpools of thought hover and swirl and descend into the dreamscape  they have painted, circling random words that seem to punctuate and emphasize this love that rushes and roars and
softly cascades through itself
cleaving a canyon of spaciousness with towering cliffs where echoes wander and
waters meander and flow into the blazing desert just beyond our sight
there is a magical unknowing of love and life and nothing in between

endless sky falls into and through the imaginary dancers
lost in a ballet of light and shadow
consumed by their reflections they lose all sense of sides

last kiss of day burns my shadow
ashes whisk away and are lost in the dark winds of utter aloneness
crying out, there is no answer nor solace in the dream of tomorrow
sourceless echoes of echoes bounce across the canyon walls

no one is lost in this tale of madness that no one can find
you cannot step away or toward yourself in this dance without dancers
this love without lovers or love
is a dance without other or love’s absence

~~~~~
light poured in and swept all the light and dark away
….swept the ‘away’ away

~~~~~

and you begin to wonder if you were ever here as leaves
float
lazily
into their reflection on the pond and
petals
hover
in their own embrace in this magical flowering of ideas
separating clouds from sky,
and deep deep greens from shades of tomorrow

how wide a rainbow
how wet a mirage
 a magical illusion a trick of thought paints light and dark and endless blues of
sky
colors
bleeding into the forever never sky of dreams where
transparent watercolors paint blood and thorns and roses
and love
sliding off the page
that has no edge
nor any substance at all
no background or foreground
nor space in between

how thick is thought? how deep a dream?
we are this nothing love song

tears sigh
shadows weep their absence of light into the deafening night
where memory of sky has ceased spinning tales of another day
another love…

we are imaginary love songs
unsung
un heard
unseen
unknown
a wild magnificent radiance
roaring
without sound or light

~~~~~
love is knowing there is no separation
yet without the illusion of separateness
there is no love
a river needs its banks to flow
the moon needs the river
to see its own light
to kiss its own reflection
and drown in its own beauty

~~~~~

patternless patterns paint echoes streaming across an imaginary horizon
beckoning you to dance into infinity and soar with your own reflection

I seems like a storybook where the pictures have melted the pages and the words have no more significance than
long
autumn winds crashing through the canyon, hovering in deep dark hollows
where the sun never kissed my beautiful tears…
I was the longing to fly,
to let love burn my wings into light

soaring winged beauty of unknowing sang a fatal love song that broke the sound barrier of time
peeled the skin off of silence and
revealed the utter starkness of of a never arising next, 
burning the bare bones of hope,
and draining the long thin stream of an imaginary journey where I was
trying to swim through the smoke rings of fear

current of love pulled me into her ever spinning whirlpool of tears
plunged me through my own reflection as all and everything shattered into shards of endless transparency
spinning a dream of clouds
dissolving all dimensions of infinity
collapsing solidity and liquidity,
all ideas of emptiness,
and the singularity that I called love

where is that shooting star you finally saw late last night?
where are all the wishes you made in a lifetime of dreams?
everywhere and no where 
farther away than infinity
closer than these very words
drowning in the marrow of love

~~~~~
I am not everyone or everything or no one or no thing.... only in your eyes do I seem to appear and I LOVE you for that 
only in this slow waltz of sunset... our hearts on fire….

it is these tears this delicate wetness that pours through the dream anointing all and everything with the sensuous colors of sunset, the always on knowing that we are this broken hearted beauty, that we are all dying, as life slips into itself without a before or after, 
that love slides into her own shadow and burns all light and dark and all shades of emotion in between,... 
she silences silence yet sings.... for ...not  ....even  ...a  ...brief ....moment, lightning strikes itself, and not even an echo is left hanging in the luxurious folds of the canyon winds

~~~~~

love is the wings of your heart
beating
wings of sound and silence pour through their own absence
through spaceless space day and night breathe
we are echoes of echoes and cannot hear ourselves
there is no one listening

love hovers in between the sound of your lover’s heart and yours,
and they are not separate nor joined
but simply the same
heart
the same
love
love rests on the flight of the sea bird dissolving into sky
measureless ungraspable untraceable winged beauty

~~~~~

how beautiful this unknowing this untraceable ungraspable beauty this love that breaks our hearts wide open and we never want to 'mend' them

~~~~~

is this love, is this bliss, is this madness 
is it anything or nothing at all?
breath of infinity is sealed with the kiss of never forever dancing in fluid perpetual motionless motion
winged beauty dappled in atemporal flight
empty clarity of unknowing
pours through a net of tears
rainbows blooming
~~~~~

time slides off her mirror and drowns in a sea of reflections where she never left or began to drift through continents of joy and sorrow
islands of loneness erupt and
melt back into the bottomless depths of never forever aloneness…
shadow bird soars across the crumbling
waves of hope and fear kiss the shores of infinity,
softly bleeding into the ache of sunset
and the arc of sky
descending

these poems are transparent heart songs drifting... like currents of empty space folding illusions of sky and clouds and dreams of time and space into a story of illusions..... elegantly spun of amorphous transparency…
dreams of words... floating... 
without end or beginning or any time at all

I am echoes listening and reflections watching and the ripples flowing…
endless reverberations of echoes dissolving in a dream of endless sky
diving into its reflection in this sea of dreams
kissing the breath the air that breathes deeply this song of unknowing 
that was never sung or heard or dissolved in vast immeasurable spaceless space

~~~~~

I am the loving of you and there is no purpose nor non purpose nor meaning nor non meaning to love which is all and everything and nothing at all .....we seem to arise within each other's heart songs as we simultaneously disappear.... as love as life as beauty has no actuality, never 'crystalizing' into some 'thing', neither fluid nor solid, simply a wondrous unknowable sensuous dream of love falling in love with love.... 

and I cannot find what this feels like nor can I find a looker.... nor eyes that weep... what is this delicate wetness what is this dark night what is this aloneness that reaches out to touch, what is this beautiful ache knowing we never can?

~~~~~

it is quite natural for thought, which is this and that, to circle around itself (as all thought, all words refer to other words) and seem to create a center, a thing called emptiness, or source, 
….if there is a this there must be a that! 
and there must be a substance an all encompassing thing in which it all dances, like awareness or consciousness or emptiness, 
so says the logic of this and that. 
when this and that is no longer believed, when it seems obvious that all twoness, and all oneness, are simply ideas, and separate things and separate events are not 'felt', then it seems obvious that there is no source, nor edge to this dream that dreams itself, self arising and self releasing without any time or space or non time or non space, or any actual substance or actuality or non actuality at all.

~~~~~

it either feels like there is an unchanging center to this seemingly swirling dream of life, a someone to whom life happens or a someone who is doing life, a someone who is walking a razors edge from birth to death, terrified to fall off into the great unknown, or reach the end, another great unknown, or not. 

and neither feeling is true or false, or more real or unreal than the other, as they are both stories in this illusion that seems to paint itself, this water color thought dream, this obvious magical illusion, this sensuous light and color surround sound hologram without center or edge or time or timelessness.... 

sometimes in this story that has a beginning and an end, there appear to be lovers dancing along the timeline, and falling.... and reaching the end.
the falling is often called enlightenment, the obviousness that there were no sides to the razor and no middle upon which someone walked in hope and fear, and actually no razor at all, no beginning nor end nor in between, 
....but that is simply another story no more real nor unreal than the story of a seeker longing to realize that he or she is a story.... 

~~~~~

she held the stars in the wetness of her eyes
silently weeping starlight,
flooding the night
with a long low howl and the absence of moon

time spun an empty shadow into the web of darkness
and she could feel her heartbeat in the tall trees
waltzing
with their silhouettes,
long arms reaching, 
never touching or holding sky…

she drowned in oceans of longing to capture the stars
bathed in waves of starlight

~~~~~

fallen roses pressed inside the pages of your life
shades of scarlet bleed into the longing for a far away that never was, nor will ever be, this heart breaking and breaking and breaking delicately informs and outlines your tender beauty…
love colors in the imaginary spaces in between

petals gathered and pearled
into a sacred rosary of hope
caressed and worn away by a soft unyielding light,
a heart
melting
into a love without yesterdays
or tomorrows,
or even this undefinable kiss that distills the taste of taste into a sublime intoxication 

drunk on love’s untraceable beauty
caressing itself through your fingertips
your eyes light up the world
ignite this love
that burns itself,
explodes and implodes
infinitely…
intimately
love drinks herself through your lips
your tongue
your heart
where are you when love is not?


gown of roses
gown of hope
falling into petals into
echoes
of ashes
burning 
wind sings your name and you turn your
face caressed by an unknowing you no longer seek to escape or grasp

 

perhaps the longing to capture beauty stems from the impossibility of seeing our own
…how rich and wondrous that we cannot know what
beauty is
what love is
and what love is not?

~~~~~
deep purply
midnight blues 
bleed into scarlet sunset
where is darkness when we are not?

the song of moonlight pours over the canyon walls and
pools in this garden of echoes
singing me into a timeless dream of reflections
floating in midnight blues

forgotten stalks of sunflowers bloom with shadows
a black and white world hovers above the pond,
and you long for colors
remembered
and the splashing of rainbows

we are memories dreaming
fingerprints on water
are water

~~~~~

spaceless space sucks out our breath 
our heartbeat 
the marrow of love…
not even a world is left
no before or after or echo of dreams

lullaby of light in light
bathes in its own brilliance
waves of reflections breathe us sing us pour us through a dreamland of time and space and the love that hovers in between us
anointing our imaginary eyes with each others beauty
where we drown in the sensuous liquidity
of love 

~~~~~

the description is inseparable from the described and neither exist without each other

~~~~~

such ease, no longer trying to escape or capture this world of ideas
or find a door or key or meaning to this wondrous universe that I am

~~~~~

no one has ever danced beyond this endless sky of imagining
dreaming clouds and rain and rainbows blooming
dreaming storms and lightning and unearthly calm
dreaming love and the loss of love
and despair and madness and deep deep sorrow

we are the waltz in between the shadows burning their own darkness, and this all consuming light that ignites itself
burnishing the echoes of our hearts into finer and finer filaments of memory strung like forgotten stars across an ancient sky
hanging in between the ethereal music of solar winds and softly our rushing heart songs

hands and hearts and eyes dance 
without direction or movement thought extinguishes galaxies
and lights up your and your world
the only world you can ever know
is inside you
and you are imaginary

~~~~~

people ask me ‘how are you?’ and I am stumped, 
I have no idea!

it feels like I am the missing of you, the loving of you,
the ache of this wondrous life
the longing to touch, knowing we never can... 

how can I miss you when I can never know or touch you as we are both a thought dream streaming through this mind stream? 
it is like colors pouring through rainbows and there are no separate colors to this symphony of life,
no separate notes in this dream song of love, 
yet without imaginary separation there is no melody or rhythm,
no me or you or love.... 
so it is both and neither, inseparably,
 a music without sound, a love song without lovers or voices,
and an undeniable stillness, a hush that blows away all ideas of movement and non movement, and sound and silence.... 
somehow both and neither and none yet one and two and many voices singing this chorus of unbearable beauty

simply such-ly obviously so it is a love song burning itself


~~~~~

waves and
oceans of not even nothing
evaporate
never seen
never not seen
into clouds
hovering
between the betweens of imagination

wings of your heart
are my heart
beating
breathing
echoes
of echoes this
pulse of aliveness sings
long notes of sunset
coalescing into a silent symphony reflecting in pools of absence
dissipating into infinite horizons collapsing
tsunami of love crashes on empty beaches
without sound or silence
worlds are born and die without any time or place within or without

~~~~~


love is a word is a lyrical liquid gem of transparent rainbows flowing through sighs and tears and rivers of sorrow... enfolding infolding caressing collapsing exploding words like love outside of all words and wordlessness….

beyond wondrous beyond enchanting beyond rapturous beyond all imaginary beyonds.... leaves us simply here wandering down timeless empty sidewalks, pouring into everyone's un-mistakingly beautiful eyes... 
and it is love and it is beyond all ideas of love and it is not an it and that
is love

~~~~

we are separate hearts
universes apart
beating to the rhythm of silence,
pouring through echoes of tears…
love cries out and weeps at her own beautiful absence sliding through your reflection
…we catch a glimpse of ourselves only through each others eyes

~~~~~


without you I am not
we are not
love is not
only in the dance of imaginary separation is there love, yet love is also the feeling of no separation and no things to be separate

is and is not, real and unreal, 
words, like wind, softly brush the dreamscape into a watercolor blooming and receding from an imaginary point of view.... as the view dissolves into the flowing, neither moving nor non moving.... 
all and everything that never was nor will ever be disappears

we reach out to touch the sparkling and find our fingers wet with our own tears

~~~~~

indivisible aliveness seems to part the seas of no division and kiss itself through your lips, see itself through your eyes, and hear its own heart beating in this dream of imaginary separation
bathing in its own love
drinking deeply
love’s intoxication 

~~~~~

such ease, no longer trying to escape or capture this world of ideas
or find a door or key or meaning to this wondrous universe that I am

~~~~~

we are fluid memories
liquid photographs emerging and fading simultaneously
never captured never born transparent watercolors painting an elusive dreamworld of endless skies shattering into mirrors reflecting mountains growing and crumbling and rivers
rushing
overflowing
dissolving
into their own wetness

echoes
softly
falling into an
infinite
abyss
~~~~~

love sings
echoes surge and fall through the walls and the cracks in your heart
rolling waves of thunder and calm sear the backbeat of the rhythm of time
burning words into a flame that extinguishes all songs
in the rush of your breath
held
in my heart, in the ache to touch
that which is not
with fingers of moonlight
streaming

~~~~~

how would you know what a tree or the sky is without memory?
do you really know what a tree or the sky, or love is?
all you can do is describe with more words… the weight of the trunk or the fluid patterns of bark or long lithe branches and leaves
falling
or perhaps a painting or a song or a dance or a single violin note at midnight that would break my heart with your beauty…
but we can never know what a tree is or the sky or love is,
as they only are, when named

what would you be without memory?
how substantial is memory?
how substantial are you?
do you really know what you are
or if…. 

the winds of unknowing blow right through the tallest trees and
the strongest mountains…
ideas like time and space and endless sky
are painted with wind in wind
blowing the heart out of love
and the you out of you
not even an empty silhouette remains…
not even an echo

the known world seems like a dream
cloud castles dissolving
words unravel into meaningless sounds
as the sky and the tree tops dance
and the morning dove sings
~~~~~
asking why assumes an other moment an other path, a choice and a chooser
there never is other,
so there really is no ‘this’…
there cannot be a why, a when, a how, or a who as there is no other time or place or lover

self is the assumption of other and neither can be found or lost…
that I am a story is a story, that this is a fairytale of wonder is an illusion ...illusion is illusion…

edgeless shimmering transparency,
this hush of unknowing overflows and erases the banks of knowing
pours through our hands our hearts as it erases all sound and 
silence…
love sings in this canyon of echoes

we are the unsung music of tears cascading through their own wetness
flying through forever and never and erasing time and space
emptying even the vastness and absence of emptiness

we find ourselves in the eyes of our imaginary lovers
they are everyone,
everywhere
there is a look we recognize
the cry of aloneness and the longing for love
this broken hearted beauty
is us
it is our shared human-ness
it is love

~~~~~

how could you be apart from this obvious aliveness
this un-owned center-less sensuous seamless edgeless ungraspable aliveness, ease-fully appearing and dissolving without ever actually appearing or not?
soaring weightless feathered softness, through softness, a lullaby of a dream of love dreaming 
this breath, this imaginary heart beat of existence
is the song of this and that

and the lone cry of the mourning dove
pouring through the silent scales of evening
a song of empty hearts longing to be filled,
yet all is overflowing bursting, …even your aloneness
even the sigh of your distant shadow
echoing the night

Imaginary Spaces In Between Us







simply this wondrous lyrical tapestry weaving and unweaving itself into this lush and vivid music, into this brush of infinite colors, into silky glistening threads dissolving into an image of a water color dream within a dream of light and dark and colors, a ballet of bejeweled wonder flying through the prisms of your undeniable beauty

this elusive all encompassing love and 
long slow notes of the softening rain echoing in your footfalls
dissolving into endless reflections
sky blooming and wilting into sky

~~~~~

fire and ice tear the curtains off your eyes and lighting rips open your heart
thunder rolls through the sky and mountains and very fabric of your being

and you fall
and you fall
and you crash through infinite mirrors
every shard reflecting the music of your life
shattering the razor edges of time
and space
and meaning
and
love peels off the skin of words, of sound, of echoes, of nothing at all…

a song without voices pierces deeply
in places we cannot find
as we are this seamless elusive aliveness that feels like love…
a single note
suspended
within and without these consonants and vowels
and the imaginary spaces in between us

~~~~~

If I call this a dream of apparent imaginary personas in an apparent imaginary dream of apparent imaginary things and apparent imaginary space
that would imply that there is a real dream and a real world…
and real lovers dancing….


the story is no longer believed as there is no one to believe it or take it personally or impersonally, or identify with belief or thought or feeling... even calling these reactions ‘feelings' or ‘reactions’ is just a name...

life feels like a fluid landscape where ideas of things may swirl into stories, but they are un owned, there is no one to own them except a name that there is no one to identify with.... 
no self or other can be found, nor anything called love... or joy or happiness or sorrow or despair, hope and fear are gone... 

is this a calm inside a storm when there is no inside or out?
this feels more like an all embracing super saturated sweep of love has erased all knowing, all imaginary lines, an edgeless embrace from the inside and out and middle….
 there appears to be a dancer in this dance, but there is not, it is all dance, and yes, truly it is not anything or nothing at all
not even love

~~~~~

I am the song of life of love of nothing at all
…breathless as your beauty flows through me as me as us as love
cascades through the imaginary spaces in between us
in this
scintillating dance of space in space
tides of joy and sorrow coalesce
leaving not even an echo of wholeness
in the dream of wind
soaring
effortlessly
through wind

~~~~~


there is no other, so there is no this, and without two or one or none there is no place to begin or arrive.... 
there is no path and no one to traverse imaginary distances between everywhere and no where... or from falsehood to truth or from real to unreal, or to an imaginary condition called freedom as there are no things or non things or time or timelessness….
simply no one to be free or bound or enlightened or who can know or not know anything or nothing

like a real surreal movie without actors or a plot or a beginning or end... 
yet always and never beginning and ending without ever becoming a real or unreal thing, 
…and memory seemingly filling in the spaceless spaces with lines and colors and shapes morphing into other amorphous shapes 
and there is no feeling of solidity yet it is known there is no liquidity,
and the imagined points of light swirl and dance and merge and separate
and hands and hearts reach out to touch the swirling magical dream show but they are it, 
and there is no feeling that this is a me or not me for there is no one in the center, there is no edge, 
there are no real or unreal dimensions or non dimensions, no real or unreal movement or non movement.... 
are there others is there a point of view is there an inside or outside? 
…none can be found nor a looker or searcher of meaning or non meaning, nor anyone to try to capture this loveliness, this enchantment, this love that seems to sing itself with every word with no words,
as the singing of this is it... 
there are no steps in this dance of love,
no lovers dancing in this ephemeral ballet of wonder
empty of emptiness yet overflowing
this utter devastation of belief in belief leaves everything and not even nothing
both and neither…
utterly marvelous and superb
this void within a void within a dream of a void,
and a dream of love swirling through this dream of a dream of love

~~~~~

this dance of waves reaching.... tides receding... and pale silvery moons fading.... did these words bloom before they wilted?
was there ever a lover or beloved?
was there ever love before the wind blew these letters into a low long night bereft of moonlight and her shadow,
empty of moon songs, empty of love songs, empty of emptiness…

soaring wingless through rivers of sky
ocean of dreams plunges through its own wetness, its own tears sing this very thought stream that paints you and your world…
drifting through a dream spell of time and space is this enchantment this hologram this obvious ungraspable aliveness, this magic without other, marvelous beyond measure

~~~~~


what magic lies in the deep impenetrable canyons of of your heart?
are there flowers you cannot see or touch or smell,
rivers rushing over rocks cascading through rainbows
floating
shadows streaming through memories of light
cascading echoes into a love song you cannot hear?
a forever never distance of endless tomorrows bleeding into a 
bottomless infinity of tears where
no one is wandering
under the towering cliffs
along the sandy banks
overflowing with the unfathomable weightlessness and fullness of light

~~~~~

there is no confusion nor non confusion, simply utter clarity that there are no things to know, and no one to know them... that all there is is this without other without any reference points what so ever, there are no two, no one, and no none….

~~~~~

we are this magic and there is only magic
we are this love
there is no one to be love 
there is no love
its all love

your beauty slips into my heart and sings

~~~~~

this liquid web of thought paints the imaginary separation of thought and awareness of thought...
the game of twoness arises spontaneously
a call and answer love song painting love into a dream,
a dream dreaming itself ...kinda sorta a dream of a dream dreaming... 

all knowing is imaginary... all words paint the illusion… illusion is illusion
…all words reference other words as there is nothing underneath thought... 
the swirling thought dream seems to have a center as all thought seems to reference a self, as every word seems to make a ‘thing’, and every thing named means that there is that ‘thing', and all that is not that thing, and that which is not that thing is you

such beautiful architecture... palisades and castles to soar through and tears, cascading, and clouds and rain and deep dark ravines to fall into... 
every word brushes your beauty into the dream .... paints you from the inside and out,
fabricates you and your unique world

thought seems to make things, not out of thin air or emptiness.. there is no source
the apparent weaving of thought into us and our world can be somehow seen known and felt to be imaginary... 
there is no one to be free or bound in this web of thought
we exist as and in only as the thought dream 

the dream of enlightenment is not about you and your world disappearing, it is a 'knowing' somehow, that they never were

and the last song blooms in your beautiful lips
liquid echoes pouring through a waterfall of tears
leaves puddle in petals of autumn 

~~~~~

no edges nor lack of edges can be found or lost along this trail of echoes
there is no bottom or surface, nor center to this ocean of dreams
no reference points can be found or lost in endless sky as there is no one looking, and no ground to stand on

there is no other, nor this, nothing to form or dissolve these sensuous liquid sounds of transparency as they glow and ripple, soaring through the music of light, submerged and subsumed by the lack of sound and silence
…love cannot know itself
as it is love itself
softly
gently
love swallows her own reflection

a story of love hovers above the horizon of ideas as it folds into itself, into a book of unknowing, all lines dissolve into strings of words weaving a story of a story… full yet empty, empty yet full
rich utter aliveness, love and beauty and awe and nothing and everything
we cannot know love as we are it
there is no it, there is no love

ordinary or extraordinary or neither and both.... without other there can be no measurement nor distinction nor before nor next nor now.... obvious aliveness is ungraspable, and without imaginary separation even seamlessness cannot be recognized. 

all knowing is sucked out of you and then the vessel blows away, the emptiness blows away, the blowing
blows away

~~~~~

reaching out to touch the light
sunlight streams through my fingers
liquid hearts flow through their own rippling
fluid softness spins the the dream with dream songs
gossamer filaments cannot hold the fabric of imagination
nor words hold the darkness at bay

web of light
cannot hold light
shadows burn my reflection
there is no source to be found
love burns infinite echoes of colors
fading
even midnight is swallowed by the dream of emptiness

and the shimmering magic flows through the imaginary spaces 
between our eyes, our hearts, this dream of love swooning into its own reflection

memory shapes the sensory world
coloring echoes and reflections into a luscious sensuous flowing waterfall of wetness of biomorphic love
absorbed immersed in fathomless depths and infinite heights of wonder
words softly fall through the song of heaven
love rips off the clothes of darkness that seemed to obscure the light
burning love into the dream of sadness, and beauty in your eyes

there are no clothes other than the costume that you are
feathered magic blooming into petals of wonder falling soaring streaming through echoes of a love song hovering in between darkness and light and the imaginary spaces in between us

this unassailable feeling that paints our imaginary lines and dissolves them... is it love, is it magic, is it any ‘thing’ at all?



kissed caressed into being by these very words that separate me from you and you from me….

~~~~~


waves of love softly bathe the depths of sorrow and you plummet through the bottomless empty breath of time
tears are love’s beautiful reflections singing streaming liquid echoes falling through the heart’s gentle sigh
through wastelands of sorrow and devastating joy
memory paints our uniqueness and our sameness in each others eyes
we emerge and dance in between the beats of our hearts
imaginary wings flooding light and dark into the dream of time

we are echoes dancing in a ballet of echoes
sky falling into acres of sky
winds of forever
never reach the end of distance
nothing is held in the embrace of infinity’s fluid gaze
in the abyss of boundless being, love cannot see her reflection without our eyes

~~~~~

in everyone's eyes I see a universe of lost and found love, the beautiful heartbreak of existence, 
...I see a crying out of our ultimate aloneness and the longing to touch.
in the beginning it was hard to hide the love. I still want to hug everyone I meet and tell them that they are unutterably beautiful and that I love them, but I don't. 
however, sometimes just a look, and it is deeply recognized that we are each other.  
because we are.



how could we find ourselves without others? how could this not be love?



how can I not love you

when I am the loving of you?

~~~~~


we are circular thought dreams that seem to create an imaginary middle and imaginary edges overflowing into this exquisite surround sound liquid dream world of you and me and love

webs of words spin into a flowing tapestry appearing and disappearing simultaneously
brewing the ache of these unbearably delicate senses into an intoxication
of utter mind blowing wonder
drinking itself through our eyes we are this elusive enchantment 
love is drunk on love

instantaneous fleeting haunting beauty
soars through my senses, as I am the soaring,
the scent of the last days of summer in my cat’s fur
fields of un-nameable sensuousness plowed by words into silent streams
of images that memory tucks into a timeline where death is always lingering

breath hovers on the pinwheel of time
and the colors flashing

~~~~~

there is no meaning nor non meaning. there is no one nor two nor many nor none.... 
no this nor that nor both nor neither.... is and not is, neither and both.... 
poetry can leave the mind hanging with no where to land 
…no certitude.... 
those who love my songs like to listen and get lost in the beauty…
the sensuous of lostness 


the knowing feeling of no separation feels like no self and no other, 
indicating our ultimate aloneness.... 
which everyone senses as an individual who can never know what life looks or feels like for another, as well as this ultimate aloneness, 
when there is no one to be alone, or joined.... 
it seems like everyone is the reaching out for love, everyone has known love and lost love and yearns to merge, but we never can merge as we are imaginary selves and are written with memories that we can only speak about in these flowing beautiful unique stories, 
we can share only so much of this unspeakable wondrousness.... 
when you realize how rich and full life this symphony of life is,
and a string of thought can only sing of a smell or a taste or a touch... but there is a land scape of wonder that is singing always.... 

we are these stories of aloneness that we share
and it feels like love

~~~~~

 







 

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