when no separation is felt, it is simply impossible to feel like a chooser, a do-er of life, or that life is 'happening' to a you...
I twirl my arm and watch my flesh soar through the sapphire sea of sky and the light filled softness of clouds as their edges seem to inhale and exhale the piercing abundance of light, yet it does not feel like my arm against or in the sky, ever...
it feels like a beautiful seamless dance without separate parts, and it doesn't feel like one big thing... it feels thing-less, spaceless, without emptiness or fullness, yet rich and lush beyond imagination…
beyond all ideas of beyond…
and love is the center less edgeless gem, a word sparkling sky in sky, light in light, space in space, emptiness in emptiness, exquisite in its fullness and emptiness, …unspeakable, only in the words do all these things magically seem to appear…
such rich and lush indescribable beauty, and beauty is a description, like love, that needs no question and requires no answer, …love is its own answer, and the reaching for love is the essence of all questions, it is love itself…
words shape my heart into love songs and swoon my eyes into their wetness, …their colors are memories, bursting and receding underneath the thought stream, …a record spinning old songs just… under… your… breath, the taste of lingering shadows fills your mouth and light ripples in your breath, swallowing you in the poem that every word paints…
and you are painted and dissolved with every word, and there is only ever one word, a stream of thought, a river of memory tasting itself
~~~~~
delicate lace of flowing echoes swoops and swirls across the flowering carpet, reflections of words scintillate in innumerable hues, memories bloom and burn and fall into the fire they were never separate from…
rainbows hover in your tears, inseparable from the wetness, your eyes are licked clean of a lifetime of hope and fear… the illusion of next collapses, and all is utter rest, all is subsumed in a natural transparent clarity, a brilliant shining emptiness, an uncaused atemporal non dimensional luminosity self-arises and self-releases simultaneously…
~~~~~
sound of magic winged beauty is painted in sky, coloring in the tides of feathered softness growing and fading in the push and pull…
languorous clouds drift, scattering light across the golden eyes of sunset blooming in your wetness, …daydream sighs into the night, light soars backwards, plummeting through your chest,
…ache of moonless pours across the darkening waves, longing for the light…
amidst the prowling growl of the garbage truck and the neighbor’s wind chimes, the long low howl of your heart reaching, catapulting into the vault of sky, and plunging deeper than your innermost secret caverns, where hope and fear could never really hide
…sound crashes into its echo, scatters everything and nothing across everywhere and nowhere, …without time or timelessness the symphony of dreams caresses your eyes, sky pours into your reflection and you drown in the dissolution of inside and outside, in the endless tears that paint this seamless world of dreams
~~~~~
sky breathes sky in measureless poems, trailing letters and hauntingly magical sounds that have no place nor time, but seem to paint and evaporate the morning into clouds …effortlessly …floating …in
sky breathing sky
words shatter the world into shards, spin the pieces around, connect them and melt them together again, paint them into a shimmering wonder world of earth and sky and vast rivers of ocean songs…
…poems pour an ambiguous amorphous fluidity into an imaginary rigid comprehension of lines and measurement, of time and that never arising next, which can never be found, yet most are the waiting…
to be found, to be lost, to escape the background of time and space they seem to race across and through and never find an end…
there are no edges to be found or lost, you have none, you are a symphony of ideas, a rich and lush garden of memory, of infinitely petaled flowers blooming and wilting and never actually becoming a thing separate from the flow of ideas naturally bursting and receding simultaneously, effortlessly, sky breathing sky…
~~~~~
love is simultaneously whole and distilled into an inescapable intoxication of everything and nothing self-sprung and self-erasing without time or timelessness, without movement or non-movement… without space or spaceless-ness, without emptiness or fullness or both or neither…
there are no inches or centimeters or millipedes without words…
all measurement, all separation, all distinction, all qualities and characteristics are mentally fabricated, including this poem that surfs the wind surfing wind…
all words are defined by other words, a kaleidoscope of stories, a web of jewels, of memories exploding and receding into their own light, a surround sound of love bathing in its own taste, wind surfing wind, wingless we soar into each other’s softness and bathe in each other’s tears, for their wetness is our wetness, there is no wetness without memory…
there are no questions or answers to life or love, love is the question and the answer, meaning and non-meaning are ideas, we are poems flowing dissolving the words that cannot capture or let loose their own words, yet songs can lose their meaning, their grip, as you fall into wind, find yourself surfing sky breathing sky…
…and near why love and the eastward moon
~~~~~
sunset streams by in the hubcaps and windshields
who looks in the mirror and sees these empty eyes? …there is not a someone nor a no one, I am as real and as unreal as you and tomorrow and love…
THIS is the magic, this is the aliveness, this is the love you longed for, this longing that swallows you is you, love is the tsunami that drowns you and dissolves you into the taste of your own wetness, a million suns explode and melt you into your own brilliance, …all is a magic show, edgeless center-less, ungraspable, unknowable, without ever becoming, yet completely obvious, no thing and everything, breathtakingly wondrous, utterly astonishing, …escaping every description yet living as description beyond the beyond where no one is suspended or dissolved, yet all is dissolved into this enchantment, this endless blooming of infinite petaled wonder,
…this is it, coyote, yet there is no ‘this’ nor is there an ‘it’,
yet you can feel that howling for the never rising moon, it is you, …you are the longing that rips you into slices of moonlight, shredding all ideas of forever and never, skinless love
…and poems paint rainbows dissolving in sky, sky breathes sky trailing through the words and leaving no trail, no destination,
…inexorably aliveness is self-sung, self-heard, and simultaneously self-dissolving, …love listens to its own song and we are its breath, …in …and …out,
waterbirds skim the tides of unknowing, surfing with their reflections… sun surfs with its echo, and somehow you see your face shimmering in the rippling, …which is up, which is down, where are you, where are you not? where is the real bird when bird is a word, when real is a word, when edgeless-ness is a word, when love is a word?
~~~~~
utterly fluent yet incomprehensible, this brilliant immediacy sings itself, ambiguous, amorphous, this irresistible magic is not logical nor illogical, neither eternal nor temporal,
…without edges or other, it cannot be added to or subtracted from, neither moving nor non-moving it has no direction nor non-direction,
…free of all distinction, all qualities and characteristics, yet distinctly perfect in itself, seamless brilliance without light or shadow, inescapably empty and full and both and neither, images seem to appear but never crystallize into ‘things’,
all thing-ness is mentally fabricated, self-blooming and self-wilting, never becoming a flower you can pluck, …an illusion seems to appear, a vibrant intoxication of the senses, naturally clear and wide open, utterly free of freedom and bondage, unborn, un-dying spaciousness without space…
poems tripling lightly on the river of songs vibrate the echoes your heart seemed to leave behind when the wake was lost and all trails abandoned, …but there is no geometry, no angles or straight or wiggly lines from here to there,
…there is no here, no there, no one to walk this lonely road, or leave the traveling heart ache that left your signature on the slip stream,
it was only a forgotten lover’s song, whirl pooling into the suck and pull of a long moon night
~~~~~
softly
softly
morning sings into the grief of night, …someone is weeping for what she never had, and the unbearable beauty of lost-ness…
capsized and drowned in waves of oceans we can never cross, there are no sides, …all is bottomless …edgeless…
yet I seem to wander this empty beach, these golden sands of sunset, and pour words into the wind that caresses me, fills me, empties me,
…the touch of no tomorrow breathes, and the sea shimmers with echoes of love’s sorrow… for all is lost and nothing is gained when your eyes are licked clean, and there is no one to lose the day that never was
waves of morning fill and empty the corners of my mouth, spilling into songs that cannot hold or give this magic, …sumptuous beyond measure, needing no rhyme or rhythm, …doves …float to the ground, bathed in canyon reflections, grey cat sits nearby, wind ruffles his fur, his whiskers taste the wind, as wings of light filter through the tangling sky…
life flows into and through itself, sky… pouring… through… sky…
light… falling… into… light…
words cannot kiss this surreal beauty of unknowing, this ungraspable wonder of all words losing their imagined solidity, their ‘thus’ ness, …no thing need be proclaimed, an unsigned hallelujah sings with perfect clarity, …nothing is eternal nor temporal, …there are no things outside of the words, outside is a word, word is a word, …love …is …a …word
~~~~~
no root no plant no wind to blow, no eyes to see, no skin to bathe in the
dream tides of an echo-less moon watering the seeds of desire…
silent sea flows through a memory of moon
deep within the darkling night, an undeniable hush, sigh of dreams unfolds into an opalescent glow where dawn hides her twirling skirts… there are no edges for night to spill through, no beginning nor end to this symphony of wind that sings of wind… gently…
weaving dreams that unwind the words that spin the tale of wind… softly, gently, fiercely, voluptuously rounding the clouds and canyons, sculpting my face, these cheeks, the wetness of ocean pouring…
what lens is this that bathes the dawn in sparkling echoes…
prism’d magnificence slides through a dream of reflections…
falling into the hush of forgotten tides
~~~~~
fruit fills the empty blossoms
leaves crochet the darkening sky
sun fades into the night dream
hourglass breaks
spills into shards of mirrors
fading into the twirl
~~~~~
magic of love slips off her cloak of stars and sears the fingerprint of heaven into your heart,
you can feel the ridges and swirls singing…
sky… falls… into sunset… slips through the open ground…
melting all ideas of sky…
we are sky dreams unravelling light into light, dissolving into the golden…
we are reflections of love's unavoidable light, tempestuous and calm, liquid mirrors of sourceless beauty plunging through the edgeless doorway of love into nothing at all…
the sun need not wait to bathe in your beauty and dance in your light, for you are the light and the love and the beauty dancing…
seashells lost in their own spiraling, wind rushing through its own breath, your breath, this… very… breath… this… very… heartbeat…
it is only words which seem to split the thunder from the sound of your own heartbeat
~~~~~
without you I am not…
I am as real as you and tomorrow and love, and it’s all love and there is no love and THAT, my beloveds is the beauty
nakedness is simply a word that seems to clothe you
you are a word that requires a network of words to encapsulate you and define what you are and are not… and all these words continue to paint the mirage, the beautiful illusion that there is an illusion and something painting it…
sourceless baseless reflections echoing, yet no thing ever appears, there is no one to see this as there is no this to see or not see…
~~~~~
closer than close, deeper than deep …we are these feelings… this lilting thought stream, this lullaby of words, sourceless echoes resonating in an edgeless heart already drowned, dissolved into an edgeless world…
sky surfing sky…
no longer looking for solidity or liquidity, …digging the garden, sitting in the sun crocheting words into songs, grey cat on the orange chair, a lawnmower hums, children, somewhere, laughing
we are mental fabrications, all separation is made up, all distinction, all measurement, all qualities and characteristics, all time and dimension, all this and that is made up… there is no absolute or ultimate reality as reality is an idea (as distinct from a relative reality)… there are no two, nor one, nor none
you are an idea, mind is an idea, that this is ideas, is an idea… this cannot be understood as there is no this... and no one or thing outside of this which is not a this or that to understand... this is the peace that is beyond understanding, it cannot be found, or lost as there is no one to lose it…
this world that flirts with wonder, this tempestuous tattoo, this lace of sky in sky, …suspended in a waking trance, an enchantment, a magical display, an ethereal hologram of light pouring into light… love swooning into love pouring into these very words that form my mouth my lips my tongue my breath my heart… empty and full and speechless
~~~~~
submerged in robin song and floating moon
fingertips sliding on the keys
naked wind unravels my breath
what is not beautiful when even beauty missed… is beautiful?
poems softly paint a lost and found world we cannot grasp,
a circling that never meets, a spiraling, inward and outward, with no starting point and no place to end… all ‘thingness’ escapes, as the very grasping is also the spiraling, a tattered symbol of infinity whose lines will never meet,
…we can never kiss between the lines, between the between where warm shallow waves bathe the sands, …we are lost and found in the shimmering, this heartbeat of almost… on… and… almost… off…
…the in breath and out breath of love is the same breath and only seems to move, to pulse, to dance across the stage, a ballet with no actual dancers reaching for each other… how breathtakingly wondrous that poems can brush aside the assumption of solidity, …you can feel the world falling through your empty hands, your fingers melting into sky, sky melting into sky, …and where is the beginning and end of the song that sings morning into my heart, that pours love through these words that I long to send to you, so that you may drink this morning that drinks me?
~~~~~
we are echoes of a poem that was never sung nor unsung, and I arise in the resonance that kisses my lips my mouth my heart into this chorus of love…
these lines in my face are carved from smiles and tears, rivulets of love… what is love, what is not love... what is a what? there is no knowing nor unknowing, as there are not two, nor one, nor none…
poems are a word dance casting stars into sky and sky into the unknowable unavoidable immediacy of shimmering, …sky is clothed in starlight, a magician’s cloak of mirrors, echoes of memory of rivers of oceans of tears sliding through rainbows, coloring prism’d magic and an ultimate emptiness that has no emptiness, no nothing, no everything, super complete in itself this dream of wonderment, spontaneously naturally perfect in it’s simultaneous doing and undoing, brewing this strange intoxication dreaming us dreaming itself, dreaming the dream of dreaming…
patternless patterns seemingly morphing and sliding into and through other rhythmless rhythms... without a back beat of time and space all is a center-less surround sound and light show, spontaneously effortlessly never appearing and yet not never appearing…
~~~~~
utterly inescapably obvious and yet unattainable and unreachable, this is recognized by all yet cannot be known, the seeing is in the un-seeing and the unbelieving, not even dis-belief is believed,
this need not and cannot be shared, yet I seem to appear in the longing to share, as we are this dance of reflections, a song of echoes... streaming down the canyon of winds…
trying to echo locate yourself in a world of echoes... trying to find love in a world of love, …wings of wind soaring through the soar, dissolving into wind, …was there ever wind? was there ever love? was there ever an echo? is there now?
what is love? what is not love? what is a what? there is no knowing nor unknowing, as there are not two, nor one, nor none...
we are infinite reflections dancing, drenched drowned dissolved in the intimacy of colors swirling in an ungraspable sky ballet
center-less edgeless spaceless, emptiness without emptiness, yet full and rich, overflowing without effort nor non-effort, arising and dissolving simultaneously, wondrously spontaneously naturally perfect
~~~~~
where is the thunder that stole the sky, ripping the sunset into a map without lines? whose feet fell through the streaming clouds, erasing all footprints, softly… softly, on a distant shore, wingless tears
we weep together, same ocean, same love, infinitely intimate, deeper than deep, closer than close… we fall into the sky as it tumbles through the bottomless… holy whirlwind of the milky way is inseparable from the dragonfly’s wings… we are the hovering, rippling reflections streaming through the summering, washed away by left over moon
~~~~~
sky mountain is painted with a pallet of tears… rainbow-ing… through… ocean… falling… drinking the night from a shimmering oasis, …never hidden from the love that drowns us and consumes itself in its own un-winding, …long tattering clouds glimpsed between acres of stars, …poems slide through midnight and await the dawn and the love they paint…
poems are word paintings of memories, of clouds… drifting… through… clouds… layers of light… pouring… through… light, forming and dissolving simultaneously, …wind… drifting… through… wind…
songs born of light and air and nothing at all, reflections of dust swirling through an empty room, echoes of love and love lost falling through a broken mirror, …prisms filtering rainbows into a kaleidoscope of dreams where forgotten songs linger on the tip of my tongue, …the taste of color dreams me, dances me into the flavor of morning
~~~~~
liquid mirrors liquid light, echoes spilling through the edge of sound and silence... a gown of reflections spinning dancing whirling... no one wears this dream scape of infinite color, there is no more love to get nor any to take away…
this is love without imaginary lovers... not even a sigh remains in this vast unknowable dream, inseparable from the dream of knowing
…I am a sigh a dream of liquid colors dreaming a rainbow-ing dream, buds swelling on the pecan trees, last years nuts, skinless on the dampening ground, all is a poem of memory coloring in the words that seem to outline a piece of the garden, a rose, its petals, the softness, the velvet lantern colors hovering, I can smell the river, muddy with melting snow, and the taste of hidden blossoms I cannot find, yet find me, as I bloom in this morning song, …the assumption of a listener drifting with me down the canyon, amazed at the echoes that sing us, we are but reflections shimmering in each other’s eyes, we are formed and dissolved in this ballet that has no form nor substance yet is not empty… all is an ungraspable treasure, and the treasure is the un-graspable…
~~~~~
we seem to appear in the singing... the sharing of what cannot be shared, yet words seem to dance us into this ballet of wonder, this exquisite elegance of wind, softly...
and the petals of our hearts blossom and all is velvet color pouring...
this seamless expanse of what we know not, as no edge can be found, no one is looking, only an imaginary center twirling, skirts unravelling the imaginary edges between you and me and love,
love is no separation, it is unavoidable and un-graspable, measure-less, infinite and utterly intimate, …it is this very breath, this very heartbeat, this reaching for perfection, this feeling of lack, of completion, all and everything, and no thing at all...
ease-fully life seems to magically appear all by itself and simultaneously disappear, this symphony of perception includes its recognition, it is this song, these words, there is nothing before or after, no movement or non movement can be found... that there is a dance, that there is an echo, is only an echo... blooming and receding like the tides of our hearts... reaching... to... touch... and merge in the ocean they were never separate from, to bathe in the wings of moonlight swooning into darkness, gathering our tears into the flames of desire which nothing can quench other than desire itself… fire burns the temple of your heart, and the colors of your song dance in my eyes, as love tastes itself in the flames…
what holds up the sky? it is always kissing the ground, the sea, tasting your lips it sails down the canyon, soars through the feathering trees, through your eyes, …through your chest, colors echo…
architecture of words forms clouds and suns and moonlight sliding across the expanse of endless beginning-less reflections, burning…
~~~~~
telescoping backwards a surround sound dream scape rushes along the abandoned roads where you left the trail of roses and plunged sideways into the brambles, …intoxicated with the heavy scent of earth and the tangling sky, patterns of breathlessly beautiful light and shadow dance you into the hovering, breathe you into the ever unfolding and ever collapsing hush, the all encompassing sigh that never required time, or space, or anything or nothing at all
and you are whirled into being, buoyed by impossible fragments of time, into the swirling of ever blooming and ever and falling echoes, coloring magical reflections that pour you into your inevitable demise, a darkness without dark that you will never know…
and how beautiful the dawn, long after cricket song bathed the darkening, the first birdsong so brave in the chill wind of early spring, unseen is the sky clothed in memory… wisps of dream songs rip your eyes into this morning chorus, thought meanders and an opera sings you into the spinning, …love appears, a center-less jewel of infinite facets, a passion play looking and feeling like anything at all…
you cannot find or lose your center as you have none, you are the imaginary center to this dizzying swirl that has no edges, …there is no outside to what seems to appear, no depth to plunge into, nor surface to skim across, …no beach you can wander, looking for that magical shell that will hold the ocean song inside your trembling heart, and keep it from bursting out of your chest, …surely this thunder can be heard on the other side of horizon, surely our beating hearts are the heavens tumbling…
…and you try to trace the outline of your hand on the walls of time that continually collapse, …and you sing, nevertheless of the wonder and wait for your echo, for that is all you have, that is all you are…
echoes blooming and receding, eroding the banks, erasing your footfalls… your fingerprints unwind, you are bleeding into the sunset with every step, every smile, every tear, …this precious momentary is all there ever has been, yet was it ever?
and where does this poem paint you, but into the whirling? drown you in the tale-spin, the enchantment, the wonderment that you are that all is, yet never was, nor will be…
~~~~~
words can never pull the wetness out of your tears, or the tears off your cheeks, or your cheeks from your face, or your head from your elbow, as all these things are indeed created by words, …there is nothing inside or underneath the words, not even an empty breath…
love is a word, word is a word, that I am a story is a story…
and what of the taste of morning lingering on your tongue? first roses punctuate the floating… memory of last years petals, falling, caught by a spinning breeze, scarlets bleeding into the sunset and dissolving into the darkening… it is memory that paints the roses and the red and the tears sliding, the fullness of words is memories sliding into the letters, like putting on dancing shoes, a brush full of paint, sliding across a painted canvass of time and space…
love fills the empty brush and caresses your tenderness into my eyes, and we drink the words of enchantment that paint the dream spell that we are, that love is, that spin empty bottles pointing to this kiss…
all dissolves and not even nothing remains but it feels like love, this seamless enchantment, simultaneously empty and full, in focus out of focus, articulating the edges of the petals as reds bleed into my eyes, pour through my fingertips and into this poem, this magical display of roses and thorns and blood, and love seemingly holding it all, dissolving it all, there is no all nor love, yet all is love,
infinitely intimate love dissolves into itself
~~~~~
roses bowing in the cold spring rain, reds splashed across the windowing wetness, doves, somewhere…
…before the emptiness, before this love, before the door closed …before the door opened …before there was a somewhere to go, or a somewhere to return, or a beyond, or a before… or an after….
this is the before the before, this infinite intimate lover’s embrace, beyond the known, beyond infinity, beyond beyond, right here right now this brilliant inescapable un-graspable immediacy, this without other
~~~~~
in between the beating heart, inside the breath... held and released in the roundness of a sigh, a hush without exhale or inhale is the architect and destroyer of space and time and all that never lay in between or outside the thunder or the waiting, …where blooms the poem that sings your heart into the silence, or is it your heart blooming into the music of silver reflections dancing in the stillness that is your still… beating… heart
~~~~~
what is this thunder inside my chest? words say it is my heart… beating… but my heart says it is the thunder of heaven and hell ripping through the sky the sea and tearing apart the bottom-less, it is love, crying out… reaching in, dissolving the boundaries between you and me and love…
the idea that some feelings are better and others are worse goes away... it all seems infused with love, as it no longer feels like there is a someone to whom feelings happen, and no looking to pinpoint what feeling it is... just currents of love flowing through love
~~~~~
I kept reaching for infinity but all the symbols collapsed in my dissolving hands, torrents of rain and vast endless skies poured through me, plunging me through the bottomless where there was no one to land or gaze up at the heavens and dream of endless tomorrows…
I found myself brushed into a lover’s dream and found myself weeping
~~~~~
dove… floats… softly… into the morning… light falls through your tender winged beauty pouring through cloud reflections swirling luminescence, hovering… words seem to capture the bird and her echo, and a you separate from sky reflection…
old records spin through the grooves of thought and a sound and light show magically appear, liquid spheres of memory float and bleed, pierced by every touch every glance every sigh, every love song drifting into the fade, softly, gently, the taste of light spreads into a thousand tongues, a heartbreakingly beautiful chorus singing us, painting our delicate beauty with light in light…
a dream of echoes soaring through a dream of soaring…
words are whispered yet nothing is heard, the circling spins into and out of itself, …it is love singing, and it seems to hear itself without listening, without seeing, without…
life simply happens all by itself, yet nothing ever happens, nor does it not… this liquid magical display pours through itself, and I recognize your eyes, for they are mine…
~~~~~
swirling butterflies soaring into birds flying through the edge of sky…
what is that song in your heart but the bottomless shinning through the shimmering shallows
all is echoes of echoes and no one is sensuously lost...
it is all lost, and there is no it and no lost or found, …love is the question and the answer, and the imaginary space in between….
all by itself, life magically happens, looking and feeling like anything at all… ease-fully and evenly without any effort, without anything needing to be done, there is no getting outside of life to a place where you can push or pull it, there is no edge, no other better more or next… feeling like you are missing the magic arises as magically as feeling like it is magical…
there has to be an imaginary reference point called me or truth for there to be an imagined other... called you or untruth... and there are simply no reference points, no separation or non separation at all…
and this is love, this nothing-everything-ness, this is the fatal collision of never and forever, the end of hope and fear and need of that never arising next…
dissolved yet… floating… suspended… like clouds magically forming and melting into endless blue… sky kissing its shadow on your delicate eyes, rain drowning in your wetness, …these tears were never yours or mine, it is the universe weeping at its own heartbreaking beauty…
life blooms and wilts simultaneously, without ever becoming a flower you can pluck and hold in the warmth of your longing…
sun and rain and the warm earth, we are an imaginary center, a womb where everything seemed to be held... the walls dissolve and all is born, nothing is born, all melts, nothing is melting but our beautiful tender hearts, there is no one to reclaim this un-named feeling, emotion flows freely, it is memory which fills in the blank… and it is all… blank
~~~~~
poems roar! or is it my heart beating thunder breathing through my chest my skin my eyes my tenderness ripping the imaginary boundaries between inside and out…
people say, ‘look within’, but there is no in, nor out, simply this perfect jewelry shimmering, a sea of wonder which has no shore where you can rest and watch the waves roll in and out, and wait for your loneliness to soar into the moonlight fading…
between you and me is only a song, drifting… we are the singing and the listening, we can never know what colors are… what love is, or is not…
we sashayed though the garden like feathering winds
empty teacups on the bench
cat yawns
~~~~~
and in the sky, stars swoon into morning, burning the night into day…
doves peer down from the telephone poles, waiting for the grey cat to sleep, hummingbirds pause at the red paper lanterns and cannot find the nectar… where is the song that sings the morning? where is the line between the song and the singer, between your lips and the kiss?
the floodgates of heaven and hell burst open and collide in the imaginary middle where you stood, waiting, …for something… perhaps to remember, …perhaps to forget…
the stories of forever and never are erased in this final fatal kiss…
as all the love you longed for ripped through the illusion of love, and oceans of tears flooded all ideas of a safe harbor where you could finally rest… nothing has ever been written and nothing ever will that can swallow this enormity that exploded your heart, eviscerating you and your world
all stories about what is going on can never sing of this measureless distance less indivisible non thingness everything-ness …poems are simply part of what is going on, which has no parts, and is not a ‘whole’
and you are a beautiful poem... a love song... wandering along the meandering…
~~~~~
and how could you see your own absence?
we are songs… drifting… through yesterday’s skies, echoes swirling in a lover’s dream …we are love light dancing in between the imaginary spaces that can never be lost… or found, as we live in this fairytale place of tides and time, seas adrift in their own wetness
…dream reflections pouring through an hourglass as it melts into sand, wings of wind swirling across empty beaches, feathers of memory sliding through clouds and stars and ancient galaxies… foreign and magical sounds pouring afterimages in a bottomless glass of timeless intoxication… poems falling through the pages of a book, never catching this… very… breath…
the taste of sunlight on new spring leaves, wading through waves of long grasses, swimming through a delicate lace of shadows dissolving into the sidewalk… how deep this light that shimmers in our eyes, lingers on our tongues… how wild this un-tamed wonder, this magnificence I call love?
~~~~~
infinitely intimate
spinning spiraling dizzy in love, as love, through love… super saturated awe quietly thundering in my chest, breathless, stunned at the beauty the beauty the beauty… nameless, it is the dancing, the singing, the weeping, the despair, the tenderness, the roughness, this gentle and brutal life raging… without meaning or non meaning, without direction or non direction, without movement or non movement… love spins
~~~~~
sunlight creeps through the filtering leaves, falls softly into the garden, floods under the wings of darkness where night cannot hide, …splashing the succulence of morning into my eyes, words appear, singing their gentle magic, …thought spins a world of time and space, a super saturated surround scape with an imaginary center, and an ‘outside’, that seems to spin around me… all is unabashedly naked… the sound of birds not separate from my breath, wind soaring through the petals of my heart, my flowing wings are not separate from sky, or the taste of blue, or the longing for this morning, or the wish to reveal this love that is rocketing from my chest for the preciousness of just… this…
thought paints this magic alchemy of sourceless amazement, morning lingers on my tongue, as my heart drinks the earth, and sky, and wind sings me into love’s wild anthem as it simultaneously unravels and I am lost and found in the wilderness of love…
~~~~~
songs emerge, fierce and soft, slice the sky and the imaginary horizon into shards of sound and color and infinite reflections, ….a dream of echoes swirls… where is the memory of tides sweeping moonlight under your pillow?
temple roofs collapse and infinite prayers rip into colored confetti, stars rip the sky into clouds, into lace winds slicing my heart, revealing an unimaginable softness and the tenderness of wind, of tears, of love and all that I thought was not love… of waves caressing the shores, dissolving the imaginary banks that flooded what was never here nor there nor in between
dancing on a side-less strip of infinity, breath of day and night claws your eyes, rips light and shadow from your beautiful swirling adornment of reflections, there is no skin underneath this poem
all exists only in description including this song, and all is beauty, all is love all is.... nothing at all…
~~~~~
fiery claws and wings of love etched me into a magical silhouette of tears… dissolved by the all encompassing kiss of sky, caressed and burnt in solar winds and waves of moon, …gentle breath of infinite shadows ploughs furrows of light into the darkness as light and dark are extinguished in the depths of sorrow and intoxicating joy…
love is a candle burning the floor of heaven plummeting through the bottomless…
exotic and familiar, words stream us into the river of sound and silence, where no heart beats alone, …we drift into the fire together, bathed in sunset, we bleed into the sky that swooned through its own vastness the day we were born, and has been falling ever since…
~~~~~
we are the infinite shimmering of invisible liquid mirrors, …soft and gentle, tender and warm, delicate breath of love’s fire dances on the tip of our tongues, …we are wind tasting wind, …simply the flourishing and extinguishing of this… very… song… this dance of everything and nothing…
this is a dance of fire in fire, wind in wind, sky in sky, light in light, emptiness in emptiness, love in love, …there is no outside to the dance and no one dancing, no one loving, yet we seem to arise in the loving of each other, die in the fire of love’s beautiful demise and are born again as love, edgeless seamless, all encompassing, there is no knowing nor unknowing… yet love knows love
~~~~~
I am a drunken dream of wild and windy shifting sands, rocky cliffs crumbling into endless beaches, ravaged by a slow tsunami of sea and dragon clouds pouring into drifting skies, melted into relentless burning suns…
tossed over an arc of infinite broken horizons and eviscerated by a thousand slivers of moon, I drifted into this sea of love I had never left…
~~~~~
my heart sings tears, silent prisms spinning love’s center-less magic that splash rainbows into the morning, …hovering in the mirrors of our eyes during the day, nakedly exposing our wetness when we dance… like this,
they pour the mirage of love through itself and sing this exquisite music that has no notes or staves or frets, …tears have no resting place, there is no outside of this dance, wetness is always wet…
light and dark slide through me as I am dark and light sliding…
suspended in an atemporal dreamscape, woods and pastures, and deep arctic lakes reflecting vast empty skies, …we are measureless oceans weeping at our own unfathomable beauty mirroring the bottomless…
…it all breaks my heart and there is no heart to break or make whole, it is all a wondrous mirage, there is no mirage, ….yet we gather here, adorned with the wetness of morning and sing
~~~~~
love is a song that cannot be sung, it sings itself in echoes of dreams, in shimmering reflections dancing on waterfalls of wonder slipping through an enchantment… a dream suspended in a dream…
I was an echo of love trying to catch an echo, caught in a dream of sunset, dreaming, …love ripped away all shapes and colors, all movement and stillness, …sound and silence fell through their own absence, and not even emptiness was left,
…there is no love to know and no one to know this love, …love knows itself, it sings without words, with all words, with all images and forms and shapes and colors and time and time-less-ness, with movement and non movement, with all imaginary separation and this unreachable ungraspable… unavoidable…
love
~~~~~
winds gather, grow and flower, petals fall through my softness, robins and my drifting heart sing the day, mirroring a daydream I heard, once, when I was longing to forget the night…
reflections of dawn gleam on hubcaps rolling across the highway,
…dark still, lonely roads are adorned with tail light jewelry
night twists and twines, climbs up from under the roses, reaching towards the towering blue, pushed down by these fingers that sing this poem of morning
tea kettle hums, the cry of mourning doves floats, and songs are born,
…dying with every note …memory paints a melody of echoes, a tale that swooshes down and across the canyon, pierces every heart that is listening to the first light casting her net of shadows, billowing silhouettes empty of the detail just waiting for the words to define and separate the bark from the trees, and branches from the leaves…
cat on my lap, softness lingers on the tip of my tongue… drinking the taste of tree lace beginning to bathe the garden,
I am this intoxication, and this unavoidable, un-graspable, rich and lush immediacy, brilliant in its wondrous, unknowable sensuous aliveness
~~~~~
wordless poems gather at my feet, the earth flowers into my nakedness streaming colors through my blood, sky dances through my eyes and the song of the universe sings with her echo, exploding in my chest,
…breathlessly words dance space into space and light into light,
…love whirls around and spins into itself and disappears into its own absence…
such untranslatable delicacy of light dancing through wind and leaves and this un-fathomable transparency, …I am this hypnotic liquid ballet of softness, the lace of morning blooms as I am the morning flowering
love bathes in this ocean of words, tasting her own song through our tongues, our mouths, our beating hearts…
sea birds swoop and swirl, reflections play with reflections, ripples scatter light into sky and tumultuous waves plunge their watery heads deep into the wetness they never leave… a thousand hearts, a million suns enfold and release you into your own embrace,
…without wings you soar, ….and, yes, it is love, soaring in you as you through you
you are this beautiful heart breaking, this love that seems to be abandoned, washed onto an empty beach where pebbles and shells and rusty cans are born and swirl in the net of thought, …colors of love cannot be caught by rhythm or rhyme, they emerge in the singing, the dance, this joy that includes sorrow… this love which includes not love, all is embraced and dissolved in love
ache of winter moon swoons through the summering leaves and I swim in the echoes of ancient tides, the bloom and wilt of midnight,
the heartbeat of silence breathes…
love sings the rhythm of my heart, sun on the glistening, shadows hide until sunset which is always dancing inside my chest, inside the dream of endless… sky… weeping…
memory records the death of sleep, the death of dreams, this death of the separation of love and not love
~~~~~
poems are wings that lasso and let loose the prayers in our hearts, sail us into each other’s eyes, swirl us as we tumble and fall, breathless, into each other’s arms and dissolve into each other’s hearts where there are no edges between you and me and love…
this song of aliveness is an inescapable ineffable treasure painted by the flowering and wilting of tears, of hearts, of songs… flowing…
we are naked rainbows... stark and rich and inseparable from our colors bleeding, our tears sliding, …we are stars exploding, light dissolving into light… and the delicate reflections of moon
my heart bursts into songs, I am waves of sound surfing the magic of ecstatic wordless wonderment…
my heart is sunset bleeding… ashes swirl and fade, wind scatters wind tossing echoes of love, diamonds burning
~~~~~
heaven waits, just between the sky and the in between… the waiting to taste the wind is wind caressing its own colors, deliciously unfolding into its own flavors, dancing in its own stillness, and surfing its own silent wind dreams,
what is caught between the mirror land of water and sky and in between? is your heart reaching up or is heaven reaching down? is there any reaching at all or is this all a dance of reflections without a source or a place to rest where wind breathes and there is no inhale, only a song of wind in wind, where there is no ‘not wind’…
a song of love where there is no ‘not love’…
crashing through your own reflection you find only ripples, scintillating echoes where the other side was believed to be, a real you, a real heaven, a reality you thought you had somehow missed…
tasting the sensuousness of wind and the miracle of day blooming, exploding inside your chest was never inside or out… there were never two sides, nor one, nor none…
~~~~~
and nothing could quench your thirst, end this hunger that was eating you from the inside and out, …you were trying to bathe, to drown in the wet, separate from water, drink only the blue in sky, climb the scaffolding between you and heaven…
what is this thunder in your chest, exploding your very cells, unwinding your DNA… you try to hold still but nothing is still, and you wonder if anything is moving…
and your prayers are blossoms falling through your empty heart, they swell the evening with songs of longing
…every petal sings your infinite beauty as it colors in and slices the darkening sky, the last waves of sunset are your beautiful adornment, your tears are love’s wonderment bathing in its own reflection…
…closer than close, unimaginably immense, these moon lit dreams of one more day, one more hour, one more moment…
collapse
sensuously life pours through you as you pour through life, and there is only this river that overflows its banks, washes away all ideas of right and wrong, …you can never cross this river of song as you are inseparable from this wetness, the ache of a million suns burning…
this side and that are ideas…
struck by the lightening of desire all is electrified…
and there is no escaping this sublime magnificence of life doing itself, looking and feeling like anything at all…
~~~~~
transmuted transmogrified pierced by the halo of your own absence, love breathes spiraling light through all things and non things, absorbing all meaning and its lack, …love fills the cracks between here and there in its magnificent seamless song… there is no more looking for the treasure, as life is the treasure, the gem, the shimmering you were looking for… these riches are beyond measure as your hand is not separate from this obvious aliveness, unavoidably naturally spontaneously life dances all by itself, and there is no outside nor inside, nor any one or any thing dancing…
this, just as it seems to appear, without that, without other, but including thoughts of other, is the nectar, the sensuousness, the juiciness of life, the taste of taste which cannot be captured… and that is the beauty!
that there is no one, nor two, nor many nor none…
love cannot be divided as it is not a thing, …there are no things, not even inside or underneath the words that seem to paint them on a background of space and time…
all speech is love singing, all breath is love breathing, all sight is love seeing, recognizing itself, tasting itself, through your beautiful eyes, your lips your tongue, your mouth, you belly, and your beautiful broken heart…
~~~~~
light and shadow flow though me, I am light and shadow flowing, …there is no light, there is no shadow, all is light, all is shadow,
…words sculpt my face from tears, they taste their own wetness in these songs I sing to you, these poems that paint us into a watercolor dream listening to its own senseless meandering as it drifts into the setting sun, burning all light and shadow, …this exquisite melancholy hums a stunning silence, a liquid murmuring of scintillating reflections, …we slide into and through each other’s echoes that rejoice in our undeniable beauty, …neither sad nor joyful, yet sadness and joy swim equally and evenly as this sublime bliss of aliveness…
love remembers every song I longed to forget, and found itself in the longing…
to remember…
somewhere, a mourning dove and the evening sky… the long ache of summer moon, …love slips out of the words that could never contain her and drinks her own enchantment, …we are her drunken dream
~~~~~
and you are a poem written in my heart, with sound and color and an indecipherable taste of silent wind… streaming… songs paint echoes of silence with transparent wings that swirl colors into sky… soaring… through… sky…
love ignites the sun, plunging solar flares into my heart, spinning reflections into cosmic dancers twirling, our wings of love burn in the flames that they are…
floating without time or space or sea or sky, I peer into your eyes and see a reflection of sea and sky and and you and me waltzing in seamless wonder at this inescapable unutterable beauty, this beauty which we can never know, this love we can never hold, as it holds us in an infinite unknowability that is inseparable from us…
love is heartbreakingly beautiful,
love is beautifully heartbreaking
we are love, there is no love, it’s all love
~~~~~
lace wind clouds softly crochet a flowing light ballet through the shadowing garden, …bloom of sunset wilts into the darkening sky…
gently feathering wisps of thought pour color through the mind stream, a river of reflections, ….golden winds dance through the golden, …I once was a dancer spinning and twirling and trying to melt the line between outer and inner space, and I dissolved along with space and time into love’s atemporal dance, this heart beat exploding is not in my chest or yours, it is the dance of this and that, this ballet of ancient tides, of whirl pools of opalescent river, moon falling through its shimmering reflection, weeping and laughing at the taste of taste, weaving a sound and light show out of not even nothing at all
~~~~~
where is the center of sound when all the windows have broken and the sky is collapsing through its reflection, and all and everything explodes and implodes, tearing apart the shards of you and your life and the last remnants of love that were lodged in your heart?
echoes without a source sing your name and you whirl and whirl looking for the edge of beyond, for this, for that, for anything,… for nothing…
is this fullness, is this emptiness, is there existence, is there non existence, what the hell is going on?
morning crashes through towering cliffs of thunder
slow caravan of clouds elegantly pours down the canyon
love is this tasting of colors soaring through my transparent wings of sky and earth and distant seas, drinking the fuchsias and scarlets as this fiery rainbow burns the night and reveals an opera of shiny black birds, shadows perched in the tangling roses, floating down to the feeders, singing the morning, …such unending astonishment of sound and color and all that seems to appear, love rushes through me in me as me,
there is no line between you and the morning… between you and love…
love loves itself, tastes itself, sings itself through your beautiful lips, your softness and all the edges you wish to remove, …all separation is imaginary, how could you be separate from life?
~~~~~
softly softly sun
or were those stars that fell through my eyes
burning you and me and my world
leaving nothing but a brilliant silence
singing me into the fullness and emptiness of love’s embrace
~~~~~
on the other side of the other side, beyond the beyond you meet yourself looking in looking out, there is no middle ground on which you can stand, no place where you came from no place you can go, no place to rest or hide or just breathe…
~~~~~
we are poems murmuring the universe, love is singing our hearts into a vision of heaven and earth kissing in a fiery embrace… leaving trails of starlight that bathe in solar winds and caress the night’s shadows in an eerie magnificence, …we are galaxies, hot and cold pulsing through our veins, spinning worlds out of thought, filling in the blanks… and it is all empty and it is all full…
star-seeds of yesterday planted memories that bloom into this dance of morning, wind lightly swirls sparkling dust and pollens and the last fragments of moon across the window—diaphanous crystalline eyes that never separated me from the world, …shadows appear as light eddies into pools meandering into the river of dawn that swoons through the garden, painting and dissolving our feathered brilliance into a string of hearts within hearts within hearts, …we are joined and separated by the words that form us, together in love, as love, through our many petaled lips, love sings…
~~~~~
how I love cowbirds, their shiny black, their song of lilting melodies and underwater gurgles, …they do not plan to lay their eggs in other bird’s nests, they are not evil… similarly, all are beautiful and innocent…
we are echoes of temple bells that were never struck, …a mirage of distant oceans pouring through sea shells washed ashore in the tides of moon songs…
you are an echo that forms and washes away the tides of my heart,
the ache to sing pours me into this shoreless sea and dissolves me into you into me into you into me…
~~~~~
breath of starlight falls on your softness, flowing down your tear stained cheeks into your edgeless heart, burning the hunger for more and more endless nights to wonder at the beauty and bathe in the stillness of unseen galaxies whirling their fiery arms into the darkness...
dizzy now, in this dance of hearts beating and aching to reach into the unknown and pull out just one word that will embrace the ballet of light and shadow, of this and that, of sound and silence…
swooning into the swooning leaves nothing but desire, there was never anything more or less than this longing to touch…
and we never can, for that which we are, this flowing description, incises our silhouettes into the whirling
…yet as we meet, our echoes bloom inside each other’s hearts, our stories melt into each other’s stories and there is no erasing you from me, or us from this dream of love, this ballet of unbearable wonder
~~~~~
some birds seem to fly in murmuration, others quietly sing... life is a liquid poem, the universe dancing, wordless and worded, feeling like a lover’s caress from the inside and out, erasing all sides and side-less-ness…
deeply infinite and boundlessly intimate, there is no separation between the sky and my heart singing, the taste of wind and a profound knowing of the utter perfection of life magically appearing all by itself…
without others I am not, ...without love I am not... there is no one to be within or without and no thing to be in or out of…
this inside outside topsy turvy indecipherable sonnet of indescribable beauty falls apart at the seems and the whoosh leaves me breathless, utterly astounded at the love I had missed, now super saturating the dream of things, …sun filters through the lace of trees, open throated the day sings...
although it does not feel like there is anyone doing anything or nothing, I notice all the regular things of life seem to get done, whilst I am agog at the beauty of shadow and light playing across the kitchen counter the carrots are cut, the meal is prepared, …how lovely the sunset reflects on the faucet, and the shimmering playing across the knife and sink,
…and there is no beginning nor end to this dance, it is not eternal nor temporal, it is all of a piece, of itself so, without edge or center, without a stage or script, yet the curtains are always closing, the sunset of your life, the magic hour is…
we are echoes of echoes, love songs falling through their their own words as the music nakedly pirouettes into its own silence,
as we whirl into the whirling we melt into each other's whirling... smack dab in the middle of the middle, the center dissolves where no edges ever were, where nothing ever was, this taste of love sings my mouth my tongue my heart…
~~~~~
and your heart sings and it is everyone’s song, echoing through the ages, ravishing despair and unutterable joy and deep deep sorrow,
the bittersweet taste of our humanness is the richness and lushness of life, this aliveness which can really never be separated into sadness and joy, this and that… love and not love…
what this is cannot be grasped or captured or poured into a love song, as it is all a love song, swirling whirling tumbling softly inside the imaginary spaces between you and me where we dance, where life dances, excruciatingly beautiful, tenderly and sweetly, violently and fiercely ripping your heart into shreds again and again…
these prayer flags were never meant to hold the wind, your heart was never meant to hold the bleeding, deep inside is outside, …wounds from love, scars from unseen battles, the hurt is in the ripping us apart from the dance that we are, but we can never be separate from life… unavoidably heaven and hell don each other’s skin and their differences are the songs of angels swooning, clouds forming and dissolving in endless sky…
choirs of mind numbing magnificence echo in the nautilus shell unwinding in your chest that never could hide your heartbeat… how stunning that all of this simply, magically, spontaneously appears and simultaneously dissolves, coming from nowhere, going nowhere, no place, no time, no space to keep you away from love, or place where you can enter…
all description is a story, none less or more than another, …the flower is yellow, what is yellow, what is a flower?
tenderly and harshly life removes your petals, one by one, your sublime colors require no skin to shine through, it is your nakedness I love, unabashedly I love you, …your shimmering beauty pierces this heart that was never mine, but in the loving we seem to touch, to dance, to fall and fall and fall and fall until the falling is falling… as we disappear into the love song we never left…
~~~~~
suspended in and as an exquisite illusion swallowing the end and beginning of all illusion, a liquid love song of unspeakable wonder ascends and falls through love’s arpeggio’d beauty, waves of sound and silence gently wash each other away, erode the banks of freedom and bondage, leaving only echoes of a vastness that once held me in its loving embrace as it dissolved me into itself into everything and the nothing that never was nor will ever be… no longer looking for the hero to save me, there is no heroine to be saved, yet wind soars down the canyon and shadows come out of the dark when dawn erupts and flows down the red rock walls…
poems weave a web of words that dissolve words and their meaning, what is wind but a word sung by wind, floating, suspended in and as the wind it sings? wings of thought brush my shadow on the carpet of morning blossoming, colors appear and dissolve in liquid wonderment, shapes are formed by memory and doves are discovered again, softy floating down to the feeders from the telephone lines above where the rest wait, cautiously… looking this way and that, maybe a cat, maybe some moonlight caught in a crevasse of darkness, streaming the memory of night into your rivulets of tears, how long you waited for the waiting to stop, but there were no endings or beginnings, no forever when you would dance upon the moon strewn beaches in love with the sky and the sea and the ground… the ground collapsed as sea and sky crashed into the starlight they were reflecting, and it is all reflections, there is no source, no ground no place to land, no… one… falling…
no one dancing, it is all dancing without movement without non movement, without emptiness or fullness… it is all rich and lush and utterly
empty
even love, which is the end of all things that never were, is an idea, enlightenment is an idea, I am an idea, ideas are ideas, and ahhhhhhhhhh…..
tears
~~~~~
adorned with sunset plumage, I waltzed into my own demise, …love removed her feathers one by one, leaving only pinpricks of sky, of starlight burning my eyes my tongue my taste my heart and the longing for just one more kiss…
I whirled around to find that there is no other side, and no this side, no center, no edge, simply this sublime kiss of what was never apart, this is the first and last kiss simultaneously flowering and wilting…
although it does not feel like there is anyone doing anything or nothing, I notice all the regular things of life seem to get done, while I am agog at the beauty of shadow and light playing across the kitchen counter, the carrots are cut, the meal is prepared, how lovely the sunset reflected on the faucet and the shimmering flowing across the sink, the ecstatic yowl, the tears wet on my cheeks, this ballet of fire, this is life dancing all by itself,
…there are no words that do not seem to slice the sky, thrust a dagger between you and life, between you and love, …between the betweens there is not even nothing, yet love seems to hover and sing and dance and swirl into a love song without words, as with every word love sings… we have never been separate from love, we have never been separate from each other, we cannot touch…
we cannot understand or grasp this aliveness, and this is the terrifying beauty of love, …we are not separate from it and there is no need for love to grasp itself, yet somehow love recognizes itself, the hum of the universe, the song of the galaxies, stars… shooting… burning in their own light and heat…
this is love, indivisible, unspeakable, immeasurable, unconditional, and without reference points… nothing to capture nothing to gain or lose, we appear and disappear simultaneously in love as love through love…
‘what the hell is going on?’ slides into ‘ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..’
all is what it is, as real and unreal and as surreal as it seems…
never beginning never ending, always beginning always ending, the first and last kiss…
~~~~~
light and shadow hover and dance in the winds of stillness they are
sails of sky bleed into sky…
I really do not know what feelings there are, and do not try to pinpoint them as there is no feeling like there is anyone separate from thought or feeling, (is feeling separate from thought?)
however this girl this woman this dancer this poet has changed dramatically... I had no idea that I could love everyone deeply, even those 'bad guys'... I had no idea that this beautiful bittersweet life could be so god damn spectacular... and yes, it is like love, beyond any ideas I had of love... seamless liquid love... do I miss my Mom? my brother, my cats? I often say, 'I am the missing of you' but that is for those who live... it is all beautifully heartbreaking, and the heartbreak is beautiful, and it is all... like my heart was ripped inside out and love pours through me, and I am love pouring…
is this a dream, not a dream... real, unreal, surreal? it is all irrelevant, what this is, what I am, what love is… gobsmacking beautifully unknowable…
love is this magic that we longed for, and it is the longing, love is this dance of one of two of many of none, this turvey topsy inside out confabulation of dreams filling in the blank, …it is all blank, there is no blank… the center whirls into the edges and the rivers overflow their banks, and infinite ocean pours through it all, love saturates all ideas, love is an idea…
it is all love, there is no love…
and I am as real and as unreal as you and love, and I love you, and that is good enough for me!
~~~~~
celestial showers leap and spiral through a star encrusted sky,
infinite beauty adorns the bejeweled night,
the constellations spell madness and love and illegible letters that rip light into our eyes and stream magic into our songs, as we listen to the music that pours us back into the poems we never left…
vague bittersweet melodies lie within the silence of starlight
inside the grief of utter darkness there is a light that cannot be quenched by your tears
mountains turn inside out when you reach the top and you fall again into hell… again and again your path is demolished by love, and the passion play rolls on, unencumbered by freedom or bondage,
the rails of the train track never meet, yet you can see them, in the distance, they are one, and you want to get there because someone told you once that THIS is where love is hiding, but love is not hiding,
love cannot hide, there is no place where it is all one, there is no one, nor two, nor many, nor none…
what is out of context when the words have no meaning, when meaning is a word, when echoes weep heaven into hell and hell into heaven and love rains madly through your eyes
~~~~~
eons of diamond dust swirled and coalesced in my heart, aching to touch and swallow the light of light, to drink the taste of taste, whilst this tempestuous carnival of colors whirled and devoured all notions of color…
primordial songs untethered from the music and words drifted through their own blooming and receding, stars burnt in their own light, falling through an echo of what never was nor will be…
punctuation dropped out of the thought stream, and all became a meaningless meandering, lovely and soft, and transparent and weightless…
a hint of a daydream flickers but there is no screen or backdrop, it is all flickering, on and off, on and off, both on, and off, and neither…
I am this rainbow dress, this mirrored beauty, this plumage of memory, feathers of sky soaring through sky, never and forever dissolved in endless blue…
reflections melt into reflections burning sunlight in my eyes where tears seem to hover and flow, unencumbered by hope and fear, …this is love’s heart song reverberating and forming the echo chamber of my heart,
the rush, the zing of life, the song of our existence, the heart beat of this and that has no name as life is not a thing until named, nor you, nor sky, nor love…
~~~~~
and the whorls and swirls of your fingertips are the universe dancing, reaching out to touch itself…
galaxies collapse into their own light as the line between you and the wind on your cheek dissolves…
this is the crashing of all horizons, all arms falling into their own embrace,
sensuous, rich, and lush, waves of love rushing roaring gently soaring through love... infinite colors falling through a waterfall of rainbows... bursting and receding on endless beaches where I walked, once, looking for the dream of love, but I was already drowned, dissolved in love as love
eyes touch, galaxies dance as this luminous dream of love waves
‘hello goodbye hello…’
…and the waning atmosphere of night dissolves in its liquid silhouette that fall through the absence of moon, and reflect the breath of morning forming on your tender lips, this gentle wind…
softly blowing through wind…
~~~~~
feathered mystery of sky softly falls through cloud reflection into its own kiss of wings and wind and your fingertips scrolling, a seamless flow, empty and full, no one inside the skin, no one in front of or behind the mirror, no sides or middle at all… fathomless exultation exhales as you awaken from the night time dream and day unfurls its windy bonnet of wild summer blossoms, petals falling rushing roaring streaming soaring…
ribbons of thought untie the colors it traps and pours them into the taste of dawn drowning in your eyes
~~~~~
backbeat of love unravels its own crochet, threads of morning hover and wave in the canyon breeze, sunrise stains plumes of smoke from a fire on a distant mountain, grey cat comes home after a fight and hides under the bed, unfathomable natural perfection cannot be spelled or pronounced, it sings itself through these poems that paint us onto a shifting screen of painted words, thought sculpts the clouds, rising, the wind, dissolving, the sun filtering through the tender leaves, hypnotizing patternless patterns dancing across the garden, and it is all an enchantment, a magic show without a magician, simultaneously arising and dissolving and never becoming actual, what is actual what is real what is true what is false what is meaning? all belief is ties between things, and there are none…
the absolute clarity is that there are no things, and no one big thing,
…this non separation is felt viscerally, and is always astounding, and it feels like love
~~~~~
I am this exuberant euphoric eloquent dance of long tale winds and the howling night, …songs form my lips and write my heart unravelling scrolls that have no beginning or end, ribbons lose their colors as words slide off the pages and all dissolves into minstrels singing sacred sky songs that hover, inseparable from sky and pour into my fingers slipping into the crumbling, into the words and letters that built a heaven above and an earth below, …and what lies under the pre-oceanic dreams of sea?
between the between, graceful winds abandon the trails they form, quenching my thirst for the mystical, I soar as ecstatic sublime ease
~~~~~
I am a phantom of thought drifting through an ocean of thought… how can I know the nature of thought?
I am wind soaring through wind, love pouring through love…
how can I know the nature of love when all is love?
~~~~~
soft purr of morning flows down the canyon, river of song pours echoes into my fingertips, whirlpools seem to form, just… for… a… brief momentary as the swirling dreamscape begins her daytime dance…
love is the silence and the sound, it is my heart beating, my lips my tongue my chest burning and the taste of wind that carries distant seas and oceans of clouds into the liquid mosaic of reflections that paint my eyes…
the arms of wind have erased the dream of yesterdays and tomorrows,
skies that hid across the horizon were ripped into beautiful shreds of meaningless words, tsunamis of heaven and hell merged into rivers that plunged into the deep deep canyons of my heart…
no thing is, no thing is not
what is upside down in this inside out world?
~~~~~
all explodes and implodes simultaneously, dark and light and sound and silence, a symphony of colors streaming through shimmering rainbows deliciously tasting themselves through your lips your eyes your tongue your heart… beating… your chest… breathing… the grey cat… sleeping… gentle wind and golden yellow sunflowers… dancing… the garden of life blooming… and wilting… the simple unedited softness of life magically appearing and seamlessly dissolving all by itself without time or timelessness…
dark swoons into light, light into dark, and an instant ballet of wonder unfolds her wings, is it birds, is it sky, is it the shadows of night weeping?
utterly unavoidably obvious is this aliveness that cannot be captured with your hands with these words with your aching heart as there is no outside or inside to life, only life, heartbreakingly beautifully dancing,
just like this
~~~~~
the hush of beauty sweeps light through darkness and dark through light... love is held in its own tender embrace and all is found... and lost... released and dissolved into infinite unknowing, catapulting through eons of memory picking up shapes and colors shimmering reflections suggesting people and places and time and a fine summer day when tomorrow holds no pull and yesterday has no push, like water in water, warmth in warmth, light in light, space in space, emptiness in emptiness, no solidity or liquidity can be found… but the grey cat sleeps, ears periscoping, whiskers tasting dreams we can never know…
we are a dream waltzing, slowly, into the fires of sunset breathing,
…sky burns as the day time dream ends, and all is swallowed into the shadows that have never left since the day we began our dance, one step, two steps, running away and toward what we knew not... chasing dragon clouds, tumbling softly through a cascade of wonder, summersaults on the lawn…
~~~~~
waterfall of words paint the water and the wetness and these gentle echoes that pour through my heart, dissolving the line between sound and silence and ripping the curtain that separates day from night, and light from dark, and love from not love…
grace of winds, soft and full, are these songs that pierce my heart…poems are love’s arrows burning this passion play into our emptiness and reveal our utter aloneness, …our broken hearted beauty bleeds sunset into sky, as thought murmurs and pours an open empty sigh of infinite colors painting the morning into these eyes …wings of wind lightly brush the garden pond, reflections shimmering from above, from below, as we meet in the middle of this kiss, …we are echoes burning…
afterimages dancing, exquisite in our sameness and differences, for without a line between you and me how could I love you? yet there is no line, simply poems descending, arpeggios lilting, wings of wind softly dancing in the trees, as enchanting liquid shadows play across the garden, a dove floats softly to the ground…
~~~~~
what we long for is already ever, free and unbound, ungraspable… magic
songs are the singing, love is the loving, …there are no tokens exchanged, not even words, words are smoke signals dissolving in the canyon breeze, …are they clouds, is it sky, is it leftover moonlight hovering in between the between? the longing to touch to share to sing of this un-singable un pinpoint able ungraspable wonder is its very unutterable unattainable unavoidable obviousness, clear and available for all, yet invisible as it is inseparable from the seeing the grasping the longing to see… words are a trick of the tale, a lasso of words razoring the sky into day and night, slashing our skin into inside and out, …and the arpeggios of joy and sorrow slide into the sliding, as tears lubricate the wonderment, dissolving all love songs and your heart
the movement of wind is its singing, words silently burn stars into your eyes, pours wet into wetness, and dances heat into fire, songs reveal open infinite vastness in the eyes of rapture… sighing, the heart of time burns emptiness into your eyes,… is the moon waxing or waning, is it even in the sky?
longing is love’s exquisite fire, burning, in this very touch of our eyes,
…our nakedness cannot be missed, for it is not mine or yours, it is the nakedness of life reflecting in the loneliness and sorrow and joy of unknowing, this untraceable path from nowhere to nowhere… I fell off long ago when there was time, and a place to fall, a place to try to hide this ache this longing this love that we share that we are…
~~~~~
nothing can be said, or not said, all can be construed as a teaching, yet who assumes there is a teacher and a listener, or are we assumptions?
where is the wind, on your cheeks, in the tree tops, or is wind held in the word wind… without words is there any wind at all?
all is imagined, and that is a story, there is no story teller, no magician in this ultimate breathtakingly beautiful spell, the laying on of hands of words has no substrata, no cliff to fall off, no earth, no sky, no mountaintop or heaven to reach or tumble off… no vastness to dissolve in, …and the sigh of sacred magic spins the dream of sighs…
saying nothing is poetry is wind dancing through wind, catapulting the thought stream between echoes, where no one thinks, and no one is listening to the music or hearing the words, yet all is singing all is falling… softly… gently… into the falling…
dream winds spin the canyon of dreams, ponies fly off the carousel, slip out of their paint, wings no longer wooden transform the very sky in which you soar, as all is reflections, liquid mirrors spinning…
and the music hums, a kaleidoscopic enchantment whirling around and around and around… nothing… no center no edge no ground to fall through, no sky to enter no wings to enfold you no heart to break…
all is heartbreakingly beautiful, chips of turquoise paint and golden sunflower petals caught in a spider web, waving in the wind…
~~~~~
the embrace and the embraced are not separate, it is the spinning of words into a carousel of light and dark that tells a tale, words spell a magic trick of time and space and echoes that bleed into a sound no one can escape or melt into, it is all melting as it seems to emerge, shiny and new and sparkling and ever free as there is no outside to bind it nor inside to hold… soundless reflections pulse and swirl echoes of your lostness through a rhapsody of evening song lost where no one lost her shadow, there was no one underneath her reflection… in the mirror in the glass, melting empty shadows…
and your lips kiss empty prayers into moon songs, echoes are caught in the headlights and crash on the pavement, they tumble into the desert where they bloom into a mirage of color and sound and movement, of wind, of sand and water, and an undeniable thirst to taste the wetness the juiciness of life which is always drinking itself through the delicate wetness of your eyes, your lips your tongue, …you are the wind and the taste of wind, light swooning through light…
this utter spontaneous dance of life has no outside or inside, it cannot be held or hidden, there are no secrets to unravel, life unravels itself just as it seems to appear, nakedly obviously unavoidably, nothing need be done or undone, the garden blooms and all wilts into not even nothing,
…and the petals falling, caught in a thought stream, a poem, a morning song suspended in the first rays of sun streaming through the summer leaves…
~~~~~
the dream spins itself and spins us, and we are the spinning, bound by an enchantment of words including freedom…
I enjoy swimming down this stream of words that I am…
there is no tie-ing a word with a thing as things are words,
no words, no things…
every word is a magic show, with acres of memory filing in the blanks... and it is all blank, and blank is a word...
freedom and bondage are both ropes holding the moon in its orbit, pirouetting a dreamer into a sound and light show, where the spin takes on fantastical shapes and colors…
not being able to see a before or next, the star of our own unique galaxy of light pouring through light, we cannot see that all light is imaginary and that we are not the dreamers, we are dreamt, by no one, for no reason or non reason, …a spell is cast, stars strewn haphazardly across the heavens, star stories are born and seem to tether us to the music of light, and we long to escape, to melt into the light we are…
I call it love, this burning hot and cold, this searing touch of the universe dancing through its own fiery ballet, sensuously, love tasting its own sweet and terrible unfathomable this-ness without that...
the longing to capture to understand this love seems to paint a hand, a heart reaching, yet it is light reaching for light, with no gap, no space, no between the betweens at all... no all, no nothing…
simply and wondrously this sparkling aliveness without other, without before or after, or anything we can call now…
~~~~~
tears are beautiful reflections of love's quiet song, wet in wet in wet in wet reflecting center less echoes, untraceable sourceless sounds that exist in the imaginary intervals between this and that, between you and me, a spaceless space where love sings a soaring sweeping lilting melody of this ultimate enchantment that has no edges, there is no outside or inside to this sweetness and bitterness merging in this undeniable taste of aliveness…
edgeless sea of love beckons and its song is your own heart beating…
your own empty chest yearning to be filled is love longing to taste itself, and drink the echo of its aliveness, it is this very breath, in, out, in, out…
that cannot be full or empty yet seems to be both, and neither simultaneously, as all definition escapes the scent that seems to bask in its own perfume, such beauty such magic such wonderment that life seems to appear and simultaneously disappear, …was it ever?
~~~~~
this unavoidable aliveness is this substance less sourceless beauty, is the song and the singing… there is no separation, as there are no things to be separate or joined, yet poems fall lightly through the notes and every word makes and breaks your heart…
the felt center of the spinning flows into and through the imaginary edges, saturating the sky and clouds and their reflection on the sea and in your eyes, …the tsunami in your heart bursts through the word that contained it and held you gently in the arms of nowhere, …there is no embrace, yet all is embraced in a love without arms without edges, without anything or nothing love is singing itself, the dream dreams itself…
there is no before or after nor any in between this embrace of forever and never this kiss of love and love’s absence is the kiss of life and death, and it is your lips mouthing the words, your heart singing, …it is all hearts, this chorus of distinct voices of separate hearts of every one’s breath, everyone’s heart song vibrating the earth and sky into a delicate transparent membrane that hums ….we seem to hear a song from within from far away from everywhere and no where, it is our song, it sings us singing it… it is love’s prayer wrapping words around not even nothing, making wind and trees and the golden morning falling gently into the garden, sunflower petals landing on the earth, just so… with their heartbreakingly beautiful colors and curves, indescribable this beauty, this song of morning that paints me inside this sideless reflection,
…in the glass I watch my hand reach for my tea as I drink deeply this love that swallows me…
~~~~~
the song is the beauty and the beauty is the song, reaching for the golden is the treasure, …sky scrolls through me, clouds burst through wind, and love letters are cast adrift in the sea, written with tears they melt into their own wetness…
golden velvet petals escape their softness, bleed through their own colors and love emerges from the transparent depths and untranslatable heights melting the middle where infinity lost its signs and symbols and a rush of syllables catapulted into sky into wings into these wind songs that I could never write or read, that I could never find or lose, but always seemed to spell love…
poems unravel their traceless beauty into scrolls of rippling echoes,
…they are written with a sensuousness that seems to embrace us and let us go, to lift us and plunge us into this dance, into this very kiss…
this oneness this twoness this none-ness this everything-ness... this without other, love without not love,
…river of song river of breath river of love pours through itself and we are whirlpools hovering between the banks that flooded moonlight into the moon and gently held my echo in this cascade of memory that colors in the transparency of time and space,
where the center fell through itself once upon a time before there were before’s and after was just a love song remembering…
~~~~~
there is no love yet all is love, and how can this be articulated other than through poetry? to surround what has no edges with a flood of words is a tsunami of ascending and descending arpeggios, soft light and shadows dancing and hovering in a small forest stream, gathering ancient springs and a lost world of tears into its ultimate wetness…
the deep deep plaintiff whale song, all is heaven listening to its echo…
letters are stars strewn across our eyes, and all spells love, but the letters cannot be spoken alone, they must gather into words, seagulls rising from the trash dump on a desolate beach catapulting into sky, murmurations of thought wheeling and pouring through their own flight…
the hum of the universe cannot be grasped as there is nothing outside of the sound, not even silence exists as silence is a word a thought a stream running down a mountain through this canyon which as no sides…
yet I see you on the ridge, wind caresses your softness, tears light up your eyes and sky swoons through your beauty as earth pushes you into heaven, like this, the universe, a word like any other, creates itself, dreams itself, and articulates all the many things with syllables that roll through my mind stream, consonants click through my teeth and vowels are held, in the roundness of my mouth there is a breath, in my lips, a kiss, a song, a poem that need not linger as it streams through these fingertips, like the morning streaming through the open window, new light softly on the grey cat, and tears, now, always, at the ungraspable beauty of life, magically doing itself... like this
~~~~~
my lips move
in this river of breath
what cannot be said seems to soar through the imaginary gap of silence and sound
trembles on the edge of the known and the imagined
blends them into this very kiss
that tastes the winged flames of desire
and melts my mouth with my own sensuousness
it is love without names
it is love without number
it is love beyond the reach of words
or song
singing itself through my lips
that have been eviscerated of all words
love has plummeted through all ideas of love
I am consumed by the longing to sing of love
to all lovers
to all I have ever loved
and will love
and it is you
to whom I sing
and this singing
kisses us both
into being
for what are we but this lover's dance
falling into the abyss of love
~~~~~
morning burns the night into a blaze of long, long reds and waves of golden… I am the taste of sunset’s memory suspended in the delicate lace of clouds that formed and dissolved on the tip of my tongue…
tattered reflections sing wind onto the pond, traceless are the words that splash in pools of echoes breathing light into my eyes…
cow birds whistle blues and blacks that ricochet in the shadows…
all is lost and found in the space between nothing and everything, where darkness bleeds into light and light into dark and evening hovers in this cricket song, a chorus of memory, of a mourning dove forever lost through my bedroom window…
and I am a mourning song, brightly vibrantly singing itself, and all is sound, all is color, all is light filtering through this poem, this prism of words, of love, of wonder, of sound, of silence, of nothing at all…
~~~~~
sleep drifts in and out of my eyes, like the moon, like water, like echoes in a canyon of dreams, winds caress the poems that paint them, blow them through the universe where they scatter and plunge into stillness, breathing, they hover in between you and this kiss, as this unavoidable exquisite embrace dissolves the edges between you and the wind…
wonderment unavoidably sings these words this poem, this song is the wonderment itself... all is colored in the taste of ungraspable, all is unutterable, yet we sing as the songs sing us...
clothes of love are transparent, the embrace of midnight moon burns into the heat of day, as day swoons through the dream songs that never held her, never held you, words that cannot hold themselves from the inside, from the outside, all spins and dissolves into the spinning…
~~~~~
life is a river of tears, a river of rainbows where you drown and float and hover in between the wetness and the water…
I am a figment of imagining, and so are you…
life, a closed loop with no outside or inside, is indeed unknowable, ungraspable, it is what simply seems to appear…
is is real? is it unreal? is it surreal? with what could you compare this if you cannot step outside of it? what things could change if there is no before or after?
all disappears as it reveals itself, memory seems to paint a timeline with someone walking, tiptoeing, waltzing along towards an event called death, but isn’t this always dying? as night recedes into the shadows, so do the cricket songs, making way for the mourning doves perched on the telephone lines, looking down at our feeders, where is that grey cat?
…oh! he is here on my lap as these songs play lightly across the light screen, and I watch, utterly amazed as my life appears…
beyond the glass there is wetness, drying, from a midnight rain, the shapes on the golden deck have no name yet they are beautiful just the same as they reflect the dissolving clouds painted with sunrise, elegant tapestry of colored wind, and long swaying tree tops reaching…
open obvious living beauty is utterly empty and full, you can feel your mouth hold the words, your breath surf your tongue as your lips kiss this aliveness that kisses you… a silence that holds the song, a song that has swallowed silence, …nothing makes sense, as it is only thought, these very words that seem to slice up this magic show into separate things and events, clouds and colors and doves, now gently falling to the feeders, and this morning poem softly caressing my fingertips into this very touch…
~~~~~
love.... dances... whirls and swirls around itself, bleeds through its own heart dissolving
life kisses you deeply, and you are it’s kiss, the lips the tongue the chest, beating, breathing, longing, loving…
without separation love and not love twirl and the ballet has no separate dancers, nor anything that is dancing or not, there is no place to arrive…
the dance floor is imagined and the curtains are always closing, softly, sings the mourning dove, never more
silence echoes in the depths of yesterday’s moon, burning all tomorrows out of your eyes, and it is not a blank stare that confronts you, as you are love’s reflection gazing at itself…
‘like this’ love sings, ‘just like this’
~~~~~
evening song of crickets blooming fades as night disappears into the rumpled clothes of morning, …my bare feet on the flowered carpet, a breath of dew from last night’s rain, dawn colors in the shadows with her painted fingers, and light filters through the dreams of yesterday…
filagreed patterns flow in and out of the breath of moon, love sighs and we are the exhale of her echo…
it is all echoes, swooning in pools of ecstasy, bathing in the rippling that saturates this dream song of infinite reflections of reflections
no source lies on the other side of the mirror, there is no mirror, no glass no skin between you and love…
~~~~~
poured into a ballet of echoes, drowned in the push and pull, the heartbeat of tides, of scarlet moons beckoning…
distant suns bleed into my reflection, I float between the betweens of sea and sky…
is this my heart breaking or yours?
where is this song, inside or out? enchantment of love of life cannot be grasped, …rippling in …rippling out, nothing is caught or released between the shimmering…
~~~~~
and I am beautifully suspended as the wordless words of a strangely foreign and familiar rich and wondrous dream song
love pours us on to her tongue and we are a taste of indescribable beauty, a song of angels and demons and tsunamis and an all consuming peace that cannot be articulated
….and it is love singing, poems rippling into a dance of echoes, igniting symphonies of oceans and acres of sky searing infinite love into our rainbow eyes and burning the depths of the bottomless that we used to call our hearts…
substance less sourceless, unavoidable, this love that has no other cannot be known or captured, it is a spell that need not and can not be uttered as all words all letters fall into meaningless lines and squiggles dancing sky into sky and space into space…
…and we seem to appear only in this dance, this ballet that spins the dream of dream-less dreaming, this elegant tapestry of love sumptuously weaving and unwinding colors that have no name yet exist only as names, …just as we exist only as reflections in each others eyes, there is no mirror... no ocean or sea or sky or infinite love… only the rippling… and not even that…
~~~~~
you are already drowned in this flood this tsunami this gentle rain of stars flowing through your eyes, this heartbeat this symphony this morning of cricket song melting into underwater skies…
we are the spinning, center less edgeless seamless whirling swirling elegant song of sea and sky and the in between where dolphins soar through wingless waves, wetness pouring into wetness... the heart was never closed, there are no doors nor mirrors between here and there... not even a reflection separates us…
and mermaids and octopus and rainbow fishes gleaming inseparable from the streaming shimmering colors dancing in our eyes pouring through our hearts exploding our chests into the starlight the fire the love that we have always been, but never were nor will ever be,,,,
there is no stable ground of being nor source nor any background or 'thing' in which 'this' all appears, all simply self arises and self releases simultaneously including the description which may seem to paint a backdrop of space and time and hearts... beating... and exploding... and imploding... and the grey cat sleeping, is he waiting for the light so he can go outside and chase the wind? what is a cat? I often wonder, I have no idea, or what any 'thing' is, as there is not even nothing under or inside the poems that ignite us into this galaxy of thought, spinning, reaching out, reaching in, love is the fire that destroys us and paints us into the dream of lovers, spinning, reaching…
we can never touch as we are not, love is not... reaching in there is nothing to grasp, not even an empty heart...
but there is singing, this chorus, these unique voices in a common language, a story of our beautiful humanness, our broken hearted beauty, all is heartbreakingly wondrous, that all is, and is not... and both and neither... the beauty is that there is no heart reaching out, yet I am the feeling of dancing with you, spinning reflections of ancient and new stars exploding and imploding galaxies of light....
love explodes and we are the fire and rainbows exploding and imploding back into love…
~~~~~
there is not even nakedness under these clothes of wonder, these silent echoes of whirling twirling dust motes suspended in the morning light streaming, fingers lightly trippling along the smooth keys, painting the music of light and sound and colors into a liquid rainbow dream…
wind gathers the storm slowly, pours an empty tsunami of clouds ready to burst through my fingers, …distant thunder and the smell of rain tossing the high pines rush down the canyon, …through these songs life dances, into one into two into many into none, appearing to separate my fingers into solid and space, into intervals which give rise to melodies out of sound and silence, and clothe light and dark and colors around an impenetrable all pervasive atomic wonderment…
and tears adorn this wetness of salt and sea and waves of liquid sky, of the rough and smooth and silky ribbons of thought meandering through their own blooming and wilting, like velvet lanterned petals falling through their own colors, wetness flying through water falling, wind nakedly soaring through wind…
~~~~~
there is not nothing or emptiness that is a source... this profound shift in perspective made it clear that there is no separation, no oneness nor twoness nor everything-ness nor nothingness...
and this is felt, grokked, always, this edgeless sea of dreams, it is not stable nor flowing as before and after and in-between are more directions in a this-without-other living dream
yet love slips on her robes and dances us into her colors as we seem to appear and disappear simultaneously, sliding along a background of time and space, on a stage, a ground of being, the curtains softly closing, wings of feathered sky are back lit by a sunset that burns the earth the sea and the sky in this, the magic hour of golden, of love, of emptiness and fullness pirouetting around an imaginary center which used to feel like a liquid mirror with an inside and outside... but no sides nor middle was ever found and the center ripped through her edges and the edges tore open the assumption of a center, and all and everything merged without disappearing…
it is all a magic show of echoes and reflections without a source of sound or light, no sorcerer wields a wand, but the tah-dah! is apparent
simply no beliefs are believed as there is no one under or inside the beliefs and opinions and preferences that seem to paint my silhouette of wind in wind, a ballet of light and shadow swirling into itself
…love recognizes itself, and it is a continuous home coming although I never left.. there is no entry or exit to love…
you are the listening to your own heart singing, softly slowly unwinding your center less center into ribbons of flowing softness, …love sings and it is a song of butterflies exploding inside your chest, iridescent colors bloom and melt into a liquid wonderment bursting on the tip of your tongue
this wonder is known yet unknown to all… a magician’s dream song… love light spinning into its own magic
~~~~~
wind sighs through the lanterned leaves softly folding sky into their wings… infinite greens float in the murmuring…
endless sky flows through you and you are endless sky…
nakedly soft and infinitely tender, wetness pours through wetness as we drown in our own embrace…
sun basks in its own warmth and brilliance, sound in silence, silence in sound, this music hath no outside, nor in…
heaven plunges into hell, and hell into heaven, there are no barriers between you and love…
we are the kiss of never and forever, love sliding into love
yesterdays skies cannot be conjured, they paint themselves in between the spaces of time and timelessness, words and wordless-ness, sound and silence, where all is a quiet love song…
blue is a memory floating in between the clouds…
dancing on the abyss between never, we pirouette into swirling rainbows that color our eyes with the memory of love and love lost…
tumbling down from the roof of yesterday where our ancestors gathered to watch the galaxies spin, we become deliciously lost in the dizziness between love and not love…
bold and unwavering, wide open wind soars through endless blue and patterns of unending elegance float through us, as we are the wind, dancing
~~~~~
waves and surges full of moon and moonless nights caught and released in the tangling sky poured into the empty ground
my gown of nakedness dissolved and the ground fell away…
I slipped in between the cracks of the sidewalk where I once wandered trying to forget the billowing night and the darkness of moon
the song of no tomorrow pierced my shadow and swallowed all the light…
all is gently floating in a sea of dreams, and that this is a dream, is a dream,
love burns cold and hot, and tears weep at their own beauty, reflections dance and sing in between the betweens where no one is dancing in this majestic ballet of shimmering echoes sweeping into the fade…
I am not everything, I am not nothing, there is no everything or nothing, nor both nor neither
I am this song this poem this dream of wind pouring dissolving into its own echo…
fingerprint of dawn is swallowed in sunset fire,
…rainbows sing the rain as tears pour our eyes into the sea of our own demise…
all is drowned in the colors of love
~~~~~
never hidden never found never anything other than this song of rainbows dissolving into their own colors, the hush of wind balanced on an echo, a song, a memory of love, delicate and harsh, piercing the skin the heart the story of love itself bleeds and the red is so beautiful as it pours onto the sidewalk, leaving patterns of emptiness dissolving…
we are the echo of forest winds dissolving in the desert, ricocheting down the canyon, softly whispering lullabies to the pools of forgotten waters swirling under the banks, fishes shimmering into the face of evening, hovering insects sing, and silver coins deep in the mud
we are a quiet song of echoes blooming and receding into sunset where all is held in the colors bleeding
this peace is the absence of sound and silence and the absence of absence… it subsumes the song of morning and I drink it in my tea…
we are a ballet of words, poems suspended in their own song, tales that must be told or we disappear, just like this, the end of the whirling, the pirouette stops, the ballerina falls and collapses to the ground, the ground falls away, the falling falls away, away falls away…
love spins you into your own enchantment, all is love dancing
~~~~~
dawn begins her slow burn on the mountains, wind swirls clouding scarlet fades into the fade, words swim through edgeless skies, leaving tattered letters addressed to no one… sky written with sky, dissolving
indescribably softy light kisses itself through my eyes, my tongue cannot miss the taste of morning as it sings this morning song streaming arms of wind through their own nakedness, rippling infinite light into fluid ungraspable shapes and colors melting… we bask in the dance that dances us, this ballet that spins us, twirling into the twirl, dizzy in love, as love, through love, amazed at the amazement of everything and nothing simultaneously
and there is no cosmic dancer, no galaxy wanderer, no ancient tongue that has tasted what you are tasting, simply words running falling traipsing through your lips, a kiss a breath a song, unspeakably majestic when there is no space between heaven and hell, between the love you longed for and the love you are…
open hand open heart, wide open spaciousness has no mirror or other side, words rush through you as they speak you into an empty silhouette dissolving on the canyon walls, softened and split by the thunder of an ancient sea…
truth an idea, idea an idea, all is a mirage of dream speak…
a dream of lack the same as the dream of fullness, yet all songs have all the letters, all spell foreign and familiar words, like an ancient love song…
your heart explodes into the edgeless where it never was nor was not…
all is contained and released only in this thought dream…
an obvious aliveness without shape or shadow
I drink the waters and the ocean drinks me, spits me on the shore where I long to drink again, the thirst that I am cannot be quenched, and there is no feeling of lack, it is all water, it is all love, there is no love…
no words except every word screaming, ‘yes! This that you longed for is just this that you longed for is just this that you longed for…’
how exquisite this inescapable stillness that I tried so hard to piece together, to patch all sound and color into a still clear light…
but the wind left her echo and I could not ignore her gentle kiss, as it blew through me and left me hanging in the star filled sky…
and galaxies gathered golden dust and breathed storms into the desert where there was no safe haven, all was mirage, no solidity could be found, …or lost… even the falling fell away... not even a wisp of dream stuff remained in the tips of the fine hairs gracing my arms, white now, as evening beckons…
~~~~~
words are side-less mirrors, liquid echoes that paint the echoes that sing us, sail us into this unspeakable beauty singing itself, tasting itself, and dissolving on our tongues… we are the breath of sunset falling into sky…
wings bloom from forgotten feathers of light, swoon through the shadows where day swept the remnants of night…
nakedly infinite are the stars and the endless sky that hovers just beyond the rainbow, a hologram of swirling…
wooden horses rear through their painted colors, splinters of stars pierce your broken heart and all is burning, even love cannot save you, as even love is swallowed in her own fiery arms…
~~~~~
these word are neither mine nor yours, they are the songs that sing us... wordless words that murmur waves into oceans and weave love into our hearts, tides rippling through the mirroring moon, drowning in soft morning light…
all falls through our open hands and slips through the fingers of words, feathers of light sing lullabies into our eyes as we waltz along the sidewalk, dancing through the remembering, puddles splashed with street lights and the long empty road…
all is painted with a sideways glance, magical echoes without a source bounce and shimmer in the imaginary in between, we meet in the middle of everything and nothing and slide into the taste of taste, a ballet spinning our hearts into a tapestry of love that unravels all before and afters, …it unravels itself and the colors melt back into memory, a river that over flowed its banks long long ago, the day we learned we were, we doubted the solidity of rainbows and dreams, and looked for a place to stand on the muddy banks without sliding back into the waters, but all is wetness, there is no place or non place, there is no this, there is no other…
all plummets into itself, the whoosh of the river lingers on your tongue, or was it the ripe peach, colors bursting, naked winds sliding down the canyon, weeping at the beauty of beauty, and not knowing or caring what beauty is, what tears are… poems melt into the wetness, I am this poem, words bleed me into the sunset and swoon me into the night
~~~~~
we are the dream of remembering, light flowing through the tattered ends of forever…
no separation is unavoidably obvious yet seemingly ignored, and when acknowledged, grokked deeply, no separation is felt... the sigh falls into the sigh as the hush of day slowly creeps through the curtains, the grey cat yawns and wanders into the kitchen where I make my tea, steam rises and curls and twists and dissolves yet there is no separation between my fingers and the space in between, my heart and your heart and the imaginary space in-between love and not love …
the river of desire is the same as the river of thirst, it drinks itself through our lips and longs for itself through our hearts... it sings itself through the taste of the inhaling and exhaling of love's sublime unknowable majesty
effortlessly love sings itself, revealing itself with every word, there is nothing under or in between the words, as the script was never written and cannot be read, the desire to find or burn the pages are these poems that sing of love’s heart magic, piercing the morning with an unfindable clarity as all is clear, all is obvious, all is unknowable, as the knowing of this would require an outside to ‘all this’ and no one and no thing is separate… it is only these dream songs that spin the tale, that paint this mirage hovering in a mirage, a hologram of exquisite magic tumbling through the dream of love…
there is no beyond the beyond, nor here and now to attain, reaching out your hand to grasp the echoes in a stream, your hand dissolves in the wetness, tears fall and it is all water… all a liquid dream that neither moves nor is solid, as there is no before nor after nor in between…
a touch a kiss a glance of madness splashes color into your eyes, and it is all reflections, a you and a me and a day dawning… there is no thing to remove or find, there are no things, yet the birds begin their song, doves float down to the feeders, golden finches hang upside down from the sunflowers that grew all by themselves in the pots I intended for other things… life pushes and pulls itself, there is no movement nor non movement, you can feel your heart aching to kiss the day, and it is the day kissing itself, this undeniable aliveness bursting and dissolving simultaneously and this is the magic, this is the love you longed for, it is the longing, it is the reaching it is… and is not…
circle of life spirals into and out of itself, dizzy on love, drunk on its own beauty and majesty, …pond reflects the blue in sky, what is sky what is blue, what is a what?
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we are infinite shades of love exploding through rainbows dissolving...
life swings and dances, melodies rise and fall through their own arpeggios, there is no bottom or top, all sides pour through side-less-ness, words form your mouth your heart…
your breath is these very words…
the abyss cannot drink you or spit you out, you have always been drowned in her giant maw, …there is no freedom or bondage as there is no where to go, no entry or exit to love’s excruciating beauty…
dawn slides through your elegant breast, you can feel the wind gently rub away your skin and enter your tenderness, or are those love’s talons ripping apart your chest?
galaxies of eons ripple through your DNA, and no one can decipher these words, nothing lies inside them, nothing is underneath them, under and inside are words spelled with lines and squiggles and spaces where nothing hides just beyond your grasp… there is no remembering and nothing to forget, wind has never been separate from you, it fills your wings, your heart, it fills itself and flies the sky into your eyes…
fingers of emptiness slide through emptiness, sky slides through sky,
the world tumbles and falls through its own arising, there is always only this kiss…
and morning pours her gentleness into the long summer grasses, waving their ocean greens, or is it the dream of midnight winds tousling my hair?
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sky and wind dance, or is it me dancing in the tops of the tall lace wing trees? poems dissolve into wide open grace, words breathe this wild heart drifting, falling, rippling, as winds etch a fluid sky dancer into sky…
…love sings this surreal heart magic soaring into a luminous canopy of light, …a bouquet of memory pours forms and colors across flowering pools of echoes…
love is a ballerina spinning through a kaleidoscope of rain…
reflections kissing, wetness drowning, I pour into you as you pour into me, …we are created and separated by these songs, there is not even nothing between us, nothing is singing, not even love…
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we have never been separate yet we can never touch…
cascade of silence falls through the hush, the magic hour blooms, scarlet bleeds into the sky it was never separate from, all taste and touch, sound and silence wilts into its own colors, this flowing ecstatic wonder slides into golden, the treasure is this unavoidable love, …our hearts, beating, apart, together, we are a freight train sliding off its wheels, …the tracks never lead to infinity, they just sit there, sparkling in the summer sun…
they sing of tomorrows that will never come and places we can never go, as all time and locations are words, …spring and fall are book ends that whirl the seasons into a spiral, hurtling you toward your death…
In the middle of this kiss there are no sides, which evaporates the middle, this is love without lovers, with lovers, all is a love story melting in your mouth, your tongue your heart recognizes this sweetness…
you are the hunger for love, and the fullness, and they are not separate, nor connected, there are no sides to escape nor middle to find
love spins around and into itself, and disappears into its own emptiness…
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suspended in the liquid hush of purply clouds, their tales skimming canyon winds, no rhyme nor reason can be lost or found, dancing down the open road,
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lost in cloud reflections sliding down the window shield
suspended in the liquid hush of purply clouds, our tales sail the canyon winds, …no rhyme nor reason can be lost or found dancing down the empty road
reaching for wide open sky burns your fingers, melts your hands into seamless blue, sunset reflections ripple through reflections, trailing echoes of a mirage shimmering… your heart trembles and sings, the words arise and are unspeakable, spinning light into stars into galaxies into a universe of love of wonder of nothing more than this perfect kiss where we meet in the middle, as the dance dissolves into fistfuls of nothing
twirling into the blossoming, surreal kaleidoscopic light falls into this very hush that you longed to remember and longed to forget, spring came and left again, star dust on your shoes…
~~~~~
your heart on fire, sparks blossom, liquid flowers dance spinning a kaleidoscopic mystery of unutterable perfection, …miraculous in that there are no colors, yet colors splash scattering rainbows into our eyes… love meanders down the road spinning windmills of electric sky catapulting back into your heart where love has never not been waiting for just… this… kiss…
