Without movement or non movement, love flows

late moon leaves its kiss on your threshold
morning slides through its own shadow
echos of wind caress your softness
acres of songs fall through your heartbeat
love rushed in the back door
while you were cooking
for the guests
that never came

All fairy tales lose their hero's and heroines... all meaning all goals  ...All thought constructs lose their cohesion ... the glue of hope and fear dissolves as cloud castles crumble...

There is never the feeling that there is someone thinking or watching thought... no one seems to be paying attention....
The constant repetition of ‘I would never do or say or wear that’, of what I am and what I am not fades...

There is no concern when others are saying those things, as the magic carpet of light and shadow beautifully, achingly sublime, shimmers through us, playing us, singing our echoes with wind in wind...


What is the mirror that falls through itself and erases all sides? Where are the eyes that fall through themselves and encompass all seeing?  What is the voice that hears itself howling?

What sea is crushed under its own weight?
What sky is awed by its own vastness?
What moon shatters into a million slivers of reflected light so that it may see it’s own beauty?

Echoes slide across the pages of moon
Fall through the cracks in the concrete
Whose feet follow the branches of starlight
That fall through their shadows on the sidewalk,
Through your footfalls
Into these words
That lost all their meaning
When a great wind erased the bindings of all the books
All the concepts
All the images
Of life as it should be
All the lines untied themselves
And life spilled into itself
As it always had done




Piles of unread newspapers lining her doorstep were swept away in the spring floods
She found she was this river of memory springing from nowhere with no place to go...

She had been a tailor who could never stitch together piles of empty words, yet she always seem to remember the lyrics of her childhood songs...
They caressed her as they sang her...
She found love in the words and stretched it out into its consonants and vowels and tried to hold the sound in her mouth forever.

looking for her reflection
through fields of mirrors
wandering through oceans of empty eyes
weeping
weeping
her hand on the glass
drinking her own smile
her lips
her kiss
She fell through the fingerprint of time...

Infinite layers of echoes weave a dream of ancient shadows
love
wind
dancing
Flowing falling
She is this breath of colors fading
and blooming
painting a song of winds


morning sings delicate flower songs of light and rain
and cool autumn nights
puddles on the sidewalk
mirror your face
falling petals
kiss their reflection
one last glimpse
of death



dawn of the summer moon
reaches through the long branches
echoes across the lake
reflects the mirror of my heart
that longed for the secrecy of darkness
and found its own light
in the unfathomable depths of sky
when my world turned upside down
and swallowed itself

time lost its rainbow
when I slid through its colors
color soared through me
blending earth and heaven
in this brilliant dance
of light in light

this heart that was never mine
was never lost nor found
this love had no name
nor light
without your mirror reflection

there is nothing here
nor there
to lose or find
there is no one left to wander the lakeside
picking up pieces of driftwood
dancing through echoes
bathed in the lullaby of moon



how hard you worked to become yourself
you were the longing and belief in solidity
all effort-ing seemed to confirm it
all the beautiful songs....
seemed to sprout wings on your back

no words can lead you to the edge of love
but paths can crumble
when the ground of being collapses
and the sky swallows you

your heart song is a voice like water
falling through water
sky like vastness
pouring through sky
it is always your own love
that slays you
and kisses your drowning
so you can breathe underwater

unbearably beautiful
this life without edges
and yet filled with countless beautiful things
like you
and me
and love



It’s like you’re in a foreign movie and you are a character who is being played, but there is no one playing you.  and the language is something you’ve never heard before, but it is strange and beautifully meaningless.

And the entire symphony of perception and it’s inseparable recognition is all a complete confirmation of this beautiful aliveness no matter what it looks or feels like.  And as it requires imaginary separation to recognize this aliveness, it may have felt like there is someone who feels this aliveness, but this is no longer the case, there is just this magnificent aliveness
life doing itself
Life touching seeing feeling its own aliveness through your beautiful beautiful eyes.

a single thread of night

stitches together this cricket song

where is the beginning

and end

of love

stories woven with moonlight

and wind

love blossoms in the canyon

tattered clouds

shadows

wait

at the door of the sleeping moon

night blossom unfurls

slowly slowly 

softly softly light caresses your tenderness

no one opens their heart

light is not a container

nor love

rain crushed petals on the track

feathers bleed into concrete

I watch my shadow 

walking

fueled by sunset

flame of desire

love kissed me deeply

ripped off my clothes of nakedness

left not a name

not even love

tears cannot quench this song

that pours through me

this ache of life

breathing me

these quivering fingertips

reaching for words

to sign this page

with unspeakable beauty

river of tears sparkling

echos of memory surface

and sink

rainbow hues drown in color

neither moving 

nor non moving

love flows