I am the loving of you

songs like ancient mirrors hover on the tip of your tongue

fall through the transparency of memory

that separated sorrow and joy

all 

softly

dissolves in echoes of luminescence… 

no one can find their own absence

stretching her fingers into sky

the old pecan tree rests in the cradle of night

stars slide through the ache of silence

fallling

wind sighs

sky deep in the absence of moon

dawn’s hunger consumes the night

one by one left over stars disappear

where is the starlight no one can taste?

it is in the thirst for an ocean no one can hear

ricochet of love slides through all words of love,

this apparent movement is love's fire burning herself

this love outshines all ideas of love... 

seamless sensuous aliveness uncaused untethered without time or timelessness… 

~~~~~

A Cut Of The Deepest Intimacy

this dream of life dreams itself

imaginary dancers seem to whirl and spin through dream space and time 

and some seem to be looking for a dance outside of the music of life of love, of this

unspeakable

beauty, this magic that all dancers know

deeply

can never be found

or lost…

you can hear your heartbeat

and when you press your head against my chest you can hear mine

we can look into each other’s eyes and marvel at the wonder of life of love of the magic of this utter unknowing….

and your questions may cease, or not… but I cannot stop your desire to know

to capture this unfathomable magic,

I know it is part of your magic

…there are no answers to life as life is dancing you spinning you into a day dream, not separate from the night,

weaving and unweaving a tapestry of light and dark and

colors

blooming…

morning sings 

and we sing of wind brushing away the dark 

sun pouring down the canyon

and we are the singing and the listening to the world sing itself

there is no understanding what life is

no true reality underneath what seems to appear

no false reality

no reality… 

only this dream of life dreaming itself

and I sing

‘it is all love falling in love with itself’

and that may not empty your questions

and fill that bottomless treasure chest that is your heart

breathing the rhythm of life

and the wind and the sun and the doves 

floating to the ground

and as the evening faded from indigo into invisible ultraviolet hues

shimmering

just beyond my eyes

my hands my face my heart dissolved in this cascade of infinite brilliant transparency and I was consumed in the colors of love

all my hopes and dreams and fears, …everything and everyone melted in love’s inexhaustible flames

dissolved in this ocean of fire

of love

of nothing at all

and who is this girl this woman this songster who is danced in this watercolor ballet of life twirling along the timeless empty sidewalks

streaming poems through her fingers 

…a continual kiss in the keys of life

wholly fully alive without a center or edge…

old scratchy phonographs playing ancient sea dreams

in a beautiful mysterious abandoned house

elegant spiral staircases leading into endless sky

that long ago perhaps, someone walked down twirling in her new dress

or slid down the banister laughing

or sat on the top step dreaming of a future love that never came

weeping at nothing weeping at everything

and that undeniable ache to see over the rainbow

love burns all and everything as it dreams this dream of love without other, this beauty that strikes the chords of unknowing playing love’s symphony of undeniable wonder

the dream of love weaves itself out of dream threads, and simultaneously dissolves without a source or home to return to, 

love has never been

or not…

~~~~~

real and unreal are simply ideas, as are you, as are all 'things.

 this without other, what ever seems to appear, is as real and unreal as it seems. there is no bigger or better reality 'over there' somewhere, but the thought that there is may arise and is that thought 'real'?

how thick, how substantial is thought? 

when thought stops for just an instant, you and your world disappear.

that should tell you all you need to know

~~~~~

I am echoes of echoes

the silent ache of the evening wind…

wings of night

wings of sorrow

wings of joy

beat my heart

soaring through light and shadow

breathing through the in between

'till all anchors are cut

and wind is abandoned

along the shores of an edgeless sea

where no one found a harbor

or waited on an empty beach

waiting to hear her own echo,

and return to the sea dream where love seemed to reside

love appeared to be separate from her

all the stories painted this marvelous reunion

but it would never come to be

there were no tomorrows

no seas to cross

no lover to wait for

simply words falling apart into tattered love letters into meaningless symbols

signifying nothing

…no sea no love no lovers dreaming

flowering into echoes of love

falling

sea dreams of water

water dreams of sea

love dreams of lovers

lovers dream of love

and who could say where the waters part

when the horizon that held your reflection has broken?

~~~~~

words skim the sea of night

plunge through their own echo leaving

waves of sound

and silence

shimmering in this morning song

and who can bathe in her reflection

when all is reflection? 

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

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

~~~~~

wings of midnight

echo in the trees at dawn

where is the darkness you hide,

and the light you long for?

finding nothing but this hush before the day begins

you long to remain as you disappear…

liquidity of silence hovers in the garden

bathed in waves of starlight

pinpricks in the dark promise endless sky beyond

but they are only words,

like the notes in a song they have no meaning

or non meaning

ancient stories of gods and demons appear to slide across the sky

but they are just stories 

they do not exist without words

and neither do you

you are the looking for a map to this idea of wholeness or unicity

daydreaming of future treasures

when all will be light

but light is an idea

it does not exist outside of the word

or inside

there are no things divided by space

or a streaming event called you strung along a timeline from birth to death

tell me about your birth, your first memories

how do you know they are not fairy tales 

how do you know you are not a fairy tale

written by thought 

that even writes itself into this wondrous dream of things

ocean swallows itself

not even oneness remains,

nor an empty space where it once was

~~~~~

aching beauty of golden newly fallen 

stories of autumn

flow through the empty pockets of this unlined heart

carpet this cascading dream time poem

with undeniable richness

I am a floating stream of ideas

songs

soaring

liquid beauty pouring

not traceable, utterly ungraspable, without patterns or rhythms,

without movement or any non movement at all…

ancient tales cast upon a sea of of words

look for their own reflection

but all nets come up empty

the threads of thought webs are simply drenched

with glistening

light and shadow shimmering in the wetness of these tears

or is this starlight

bathing my cheeks

….all definitions dissolve into acres of sky

I am an ancient fairy tale

read and forgotten

long long ago before time was not

a scratchy phonograph record playing

haunting love songs

evoking mystery and wonder

we are this magical music

hovering between sound and silence

and nothing at all

~~~~~

and she fell into her reflection and dissolved in the obviousness of side-less-ness…

from where could she return

when there was no one to leave?

words leave no trail

they only circle back into themselves

…spiral without beginning or end

leading no where

time and place and love are words

word is a word

tears

float

through this river of song

there is no finding a source or place outside of this wetness

super saturating the dream of

love

floating

in love

~~~~~

wind dissolved the morning

where memory slept under rainbows

leaking into sky…

what are these photographs of wind I pulled to my chest

trying to open the heart of love?

what are these words, these pictures of unseen beauty, I tried to swallow

but never could quite believe….. as other could never be found

tomorrow never came…

drowning in oceans of flames

where was the fire of my aloneness

not

where was the fire of love

not

when was I

not

sky deep in love

~~~~~

golden butterfly

suspended in the lace of morning

wings of thought softly

brush

colors into this poem

petals of wind 

gently

sweep night under the skirts of sky

revealing dawn’s splendorous refection shimmering in mine

no one is listening to these echos painting and dissolving the footprints of wind rushing by the window

where my reflection

once

hovered

waiting for morning to spill darkness out of my eyes

~~~~~

love pierces every pore of your being from the inside and out and melts your skin you eyes your mouth your heart in a fire of unbelievable ecstasy

is it pain is it sorrow is it joy is it bliss, this love that has no names and cannot be thought of, but is all words all names all ideas all thought…. 

love is not one thing nor is it all things… yet it is both of these and neither

no one to feel separate from it, no it to be separate from

the uneasy feeling of uncertainty and the desperate looking for solidity melts into the feeling of a most delicious love when there is no one to whom feeling is happening… 

along with the death of belief of a never arising next... it feels more like

floating..

love softly soaring through her own arms

an ever present gentle tender kiss…

when there are not two lips nor one mouth

nor one edgeless heart exploding and imploding infinitely

calling this love may sound paltry, as most seem to equate love with a hunger, a neediness for love to be returned, as if love were a thing separate from us or life or death... but love is the feeling of there being no things to be separate or joined into a thing called wholeness or emptiness

or no thing or everything…

just this love

and not even that

and who would find the edge of love

when you are the looking for an imagined cleft in the sky from where the music of life pours

and surrounds you and swallows you in a sing along ecstatic chorus where you seem to have a part to play

but can never find your footsteps or your shadow

or a place outside of yourself

or in

~~~~~

through your beautiful beautiful eyes 

love falls in love with itself

~~~~~

morning sun

shadows slide

into an unseen kiss of dark and night

my heart was ripped out of shades of grey

love eviscerated the illusion of sides

I was plunged into echoes of whirlpools

dissolved into

rainbows

colors

leaking

all over this page

~~~~~

again and again your wings were singed in love’s intoxicating fire

until there was no more trying to reach the light…

you plunged into love’s inevitable flames

and you were fully consumed

along with your world,

and all ideas of emptiness…

that beautiful fatal kiss when the wings of your heart’s last beat fused what was never apart, 

love soars with not one wing, nor two, nor none

petals of perfection opening and sighing in the empty breast of love

~~~~~

opalescent wings of pre dawn songs

soar from moon to moon on reflected light

is space empty or full of this dream of echoes

or do sound and silence define the edges of the shell

words softly caress the fluid pearlescence reverberating in your empty heart

broken now from the sheer force of endless seas

rushing

and receding into their own wetness

~~~~~

shallow wind skims across the star strewn garden

love stirs in the newly fallen leaves

daylight hits the shores of no tomorrow

and I am this limitless breaking heart that ripples and sings and 

weeps at the unfathomable beauty of hearts breaking and love

weeping at the beauty of her own tears

words are the magic wand creating the illusion of separation

they paint an imaginary thing that splits

asunder

thunder and lightening 

awareness and perception

truth and falsehood

but words are simply sourceless echoes

reverberating through echoes

love’s infinite tears

sliding through their own wetness

~~~~~

feathered grace of light in light

wind flows through wind

one wing sorrow

one wing joy

incomprehensible

undeniably

tears

without name or number or reason or non reason

sensuously scrumptiously deliciously flow

wet into wet

love

floats

without inside or out

softly 

gently

ocean into ocean

love into love

~~~~~

there is no ultimate reality

the real is illusion

as well as the unreal

emptiness is free of emptiness

illusion is illusion

there is no illusion

neither existence nor non existence exists

there is no emptiness or fullness

nor anyone asking why

there is no confusion nor non confusion

there are no questions nor answers

not even a sliding dream show punctuated with stars,

light and dark, as well as all this and that, is imaginary,

and there is no one imagining

this cannot be seen or un seen

as there is no one who would see or ignore this

this is not conceivable nor is it inconceivable

there is no this, or it

there is no perfection or imperfection

there is no meaning nor non meaning to this song

relentless love sears your eyes

rips your flesh

burns your bones

evaporates your ashes and the earth and sky that swallowed you

is this oblivion when there was never anything or nothing?

no time or space to be empty or full…

this is not conceivable nor is it inconceivable

feels like love

yet there is no love

no one speaking, no one listening

no one loving you

weeping

at the beauty of love

~~~~~

I am echoes of tears that never happened and never will…

echoes swallow their own sound

tears dissolve their own wetness

emptiness falls through its own absence

and love

swoons through its own embrace

and there are no empty arms

reaching into sky

trying to fly

winged ballet of incomprehensible wonder

soars

without time or its absence

and words spiral and reach into sky

and cannot find any lines

only the skinless sound

of love’s unutterable light

~~~~~

reaching out to touch the shimmering

you find only bits of broken glass strewn across the softness of endless desert sands,

and the howl of relentless sky

…or was it darkness you wished to plunge through,

to stick your head into this unassailable light…

you feel you remember when you were but atoms spinning clouds of sky

reflecting and dissolving into the reds and oranges of sunset and the cold dark blues of ice

when did colored photographs turn into black and white?

when was life not a movie that cannot go back or forward

or

hover,

the middle of a dream

is only dream

poems may tumble or sway or sing or rip apart this hint of a melody

barely

remembered

like an echo of a dream, a reflection of a rainbow disappearing 

…beauty, just missed... 

is beautiful

we share this longing it is our beauty to soar with the morning doves

softly feathers falling on the

rippling 

hands reaching and finding

nothing

not even hands reaching

no one basks in the wonder of unknowing.... or is suspended as love 

love sings and unravels itself and

spirals into songs of relentless sky

shimmering just

beyond

your grasp

what melts all notions of dark and light

and a someone who could hold the day?

what is beautiful what is not? what is love

what is not?

who could possible ask these questions and who

could possibly know

~~~~~

how many words for this love that has none but is all words...

how many tears for this wetness that has plunged me into the darkest deepest depths of unknowing.... and lit up the universe with galaxies of wonderment spinning this unbearably beautiful dream of love...

how to measure love when love is all…

and there is no love

~~~~~

galaxies of moon songs pour through your chest

unravelling waves of sky

and ocean feathers 

falling

into an indescribable softness

birds dissolve into flight

flowers melt into multi petaled colors

pouring through your eyes

your heart

where love is singing

‘hello I love you…

I am you’

~~~~~

in this dream within a dream within a dream

space cascades

softly

gently

wildly

through her own echo

leaving no sound or silence

time pours through

herself

and empties the mirror and

her reflection

love dances with her utter perfection

and beckons you into this dance that you can never enter or leave

as you are not

nor is love

in this dream within a dream within a dream

that never was nor will ever be

there is just this waltz of love

and simultaneously nothing at all

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

~~~~~

summer hovers in yesternight’s footsteps

autumn clouds extinguish all stars

shoes long abandoned by the side of the road

pour into the milky way

dancing

people assume that enlightenment means that there is a someone not effected by the passion play, but it simply does not feel like there are separate things or separate someones within it or without it, as there is no outside, or inside.

 there is no one in peace or bliss or love... yet it feels like the play is a love song singing itself dancing itself, without time or timelessness.... 

an obvious baseless shimmering of echos, of reflections of nothing at all. 

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

this is the broken hearted beauty of our humanness.... 

this call and answer love song without a singer, 

this dream without a dreamer, 

this love without lovers...

~~~~~

shimmering reflections of echoes sing our names and the names of all things that have no solidity or liquidity, or any actual existence or non existence at all…..

transparent weightless ideas woven of thought dissolve into waves  of forever blue and deep dark seas roiling and evaporating into not even nothing… where oceans dive into sky and horizons crash…

we are dreams of dreams, we are feathered rainbows dissolving into wing tips of space softly

falling

petaled

grace

stories of valor and defeat

stories of time and space and

love,…

we are wondrous stories of knowing

and unknowing

neither more majestic or weak or true or false

golden leaves and faded petals tumble

breathing autumn into the garden

low sigh of rain 

just ending

lace of words etch an arc in sky

paint colors in your eyes…

rainbows

drift

into an indelible softness

erasing itself before the world appears

~~~~~

life is love is magic appearing and dissolving without time or dimension

sunset hovers on the banks of no tomorrow

breathes golden and red and deep oranges

burns the shadows of morning

consume the descending light

intoxicated with its own unutterable perfection through our eyes

~~~~~

how can you capture this obvious magic

when all is magic?

including the looking for it,

the feeling that you have it,

and the feeling that you do not

can more ideas dissolve the fabric of ideas,

can more beliefs clear the pool of beliefs?

plunge your hand into the water and try to push away the ripples…

…peer into the whirling and try to not see your beautiful shimmering reflection

can more words dissipate the belief in words?

how can you hold the dream when you are dreamt?

how can you get more sky

when all is sky?

where will you find more love

when all is love?

where would emptiness hide

when all is empty

~~~~~

thought builds and rips apart moons and mountains

paints this day and colors in these golden sunflowers

blooming

and the stark absence of summer’s hues as autumn flows into the garden

what spills roiling seas into sky

burns the horizon

decimates these glowing desert sands,

and the distant thunder of storms brewing,

fire on the mountain,

this ache in your heart

riotous laughter

love and love lost and this longing for it all

who would escape this agonizing despair and grief?

who would find the silence in the deepest of sleeps?

who could capture the utter darkness of this cloudy night

the burning brilliance in the night time dream,

and the hush in-between

the hush?

what tears the fabric of thought

destroys time and space and any notion of emptiness and void,

and the belief in long roads with glittering treasures at the end

or any place or space or time,

anyone to begin a journey

and anyone to arrive?

how can love be

when it is not?

what plunges your heart into the bottomless depths of unknowing

until your heart your life is no longer yours?

no owner of love or life can be found

nor anyone looking

nothing separate exists

nor any one big all encompassing thing

there are no things nor non things

not even love…

yet, all is, indeed, love

you know that

~~~~~

this is a cut of the deepest intimacy

lightening strikes itself

~~~~~

and the billowing crashes and recedes

without movement or stillness

without sound or silence

echoes

breathe

~~~~~

I am often asked why I write these songs?

it does not feel like I am doing anything... 

more like a magic feathered pen soaring through

sky

written with air in air,

winged wonder of a script written with invisible ink... or perhaps tears…

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

whirlpools of thought hover and swirl and descend into the dreamscape  they have painted, circling random words that seem to punctuate and emphasize this love that rushes and roars and

softly cascades through itself

cleaving a canyon of spaciousness with towering cliffs where echoes wander and

waters meander and flow into the blazing desert just beyond our sight

there is a magical unknowing of love and life and nothing in between

endless sky falls into and through the imaginary dancers

lost in a ballet of light and shadow

consumed by their reflections they lose all sense of sides

last kiss of day burns my shadow

ashes whisk away and are lost in the dark winds of utter aloneness

crying out, there is no answer nor solace in the dream of tomorrow

sourceless echoes of echoes bounce across the canyon walls

no one is lost in this tale of madness that no one can find

you cannot step away or toward yourself in this dance without dancers

this love without lovers or love

is a dance without other or love’s absence

~~~~~

light poured in and swept all the light and dark away

….swept the ‘away’ away

~~~~~

and you begin to wonder if you were ever here as leaves

float

lazily

into their reflection on the pond and

petals

hover

in their own embrace in this magical flowering of ideas

separating clouds from sky,

and deep deep greens from shades of tomorrow

how wide a rainbow

how wet a mirage

 a magical illusion a trick of thought paints light and dark and endless blues of

sky

colors

bleeding into the forever never sky of dreams where

transparent watercolors paint blood and thorns and roses

and love

sliding off the page

that has no edge

nor any substance at all

no background or foreground

nor space in between

how thick is thought? how deep a dream?

we are this nothing love song

tears sigh

shadows weep their absence of light into the deafening night

where memory of sky has ceased spinning tales of another day

another love…

we are imaginary love songs

unsung

un heard

unseen

unknown

a wild magnificent radiance

roaring

without sound or light

~~~~~

love is knowing there is no separation

yet without the illusion of separateness

there is no love

a river needs its banks to flow

the moon needs the river

to see its own light

to kiss its own reflection

and drown in its own beauty

~~~~~

patternless patterns paint echoes streaming across an imaginary horizon

beckoning you to dance into infinity and soar with your own reflection

I seems like a storybook where the pictures have melted the pages and the words have no more significance than

long

autumn winds crashing through the canyon, hovering in deep dark hollows

where the sun never kissed my beautiful tears…

I was the longing to fly,

to let love burn my wings into light

soaring winged beauty of unknowing sang a fatal love song that broke the sound barrier of time

peeled the skin off of silence and

revealed the utter starkness of of a never arising next, 

burning the bare bones of hope,

and draining the long thin stream of an imaginary journey where I was

trying to swim through the smoke rings of fear

current of love pulled me into her ever spinning whirlpool of tears

plunged me through my own reflection as all and everything shattered into shards of endless transparency

spinning a dream of clouds

dissolving all dimensions of infinity

collapsing solidity and liquidity,

all ideas of emptiness,

and the singularity that I called love

where is that shooting star you finally saw late last night?

where are all the wishes you made in a lifetime of dreams?

everywhere and no where 

farther away than infinity

closer than these very words

drowning in the marrow of love

~~~~~

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

it is these tears this delicate wetness that pours through the dream anointing all and everything with the sensuous colors of sunset, the always on knowing that we are this broken hearted beauty, that we are all dying, as life slips into itself without a before or after, 

that love slides into her own shadow and burns all light and dark and all shades of emotion in between,... 

she silences silence yet sings.... for ...not  ....even  ...a  ...brief ....moment, lightning strikes itself, and not even an echo is left hanging in the luxurious folds of the canyon winds

~~~~~

love is the wings of your heart

beating

wings of sound and silence pour through their own absence

through spaceless space day and night breathe

we are echoes of echoes and cannot hear ourselves

there is no one listening

love hovers in between the sound of your lover’s heart and yours,

and they are not separate nor joined

but simply the same

heart

the same

love

love rests on the flight of the sea bird dissolving into sky

measureless ungraspable untraceable winged beauty

~~~~~

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

~~~~~

is this love, is this bliss, is this madness 

is it anything or nothing at all?

breath of infinity is sealed with the kiss of never forever dancing in fluid perpetual motionless motion

winged beauty dappled in atemporal flight

empty clarity of unknowing

pours through a net of tears

rainbows blooming

~~~~~

time slides off her mirror and drowns in a sea of reflections where she never left or began to drift through continents of joy and sorrow

islands of loneness erupt and

melt back into the bottomless depths of never forever aloneness…

shadow bird soars across the crumbling

waves of hope and fear kiss the shores of infinity,

softly bleeding into the ache of sunset

and the arc of sky

descending

these poems are transparent heart songs drifting... like currents of empty space folding illusions of sky and clouds and dreams of time and space into a story of illusions..... elegantly spun of amorphous transparency…

dreams of words... floating... 

without end or beginning or any time at all

I am echoes listening and reflections watching and the ripples flowing…

endless reverberations of echoes dissolving in a dream of endless sky

diving into its reflection in this sea of dreams

kissing the breath the air that breathes deeply this song of unknowing 

that was never sung or heard or dissolved in vast immeasurable spaceless space

~~~~~

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

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

~~~~~

it is quite natural for thought, which is this and that, to circle around itself (as all thought, all words refer to other words) and seem to create a center, a thing called emptiness, or source, 

….if there is a this there must be a that! 

and there must be a substance an all encompassing thing in which it all dances, like awareness or consciousness or emptiness, 

so says the logic of this and that. 

when this and that is no longer believed, when it seems obvious that all twoness, and all oneness, are simply ideas, and separate things and separate events are not 'felt', then it seems obvious that there is no source, nor edge to this dream that dreams itself, self arising and self releasing without any time or space or non time or non space, or any actual substance or actuality or non actuality at all.

~~~~~

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

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

sometimes in this story that has a beginning and an end, there appear to be lovers dancing along the timeline, and falling.... and reaching the end.

the falling is often called enlightenment, the obviousness that there were no sides to the razor and no middle upon which someone walked in hope and fear, and actually no razor at all, no beginning nor end nor in between, 

....but that is simply another story no more real nor unreal than the story of a seeker longing to realize that he or she is a story.... 

~~~~~

she held the stars in the wetness of her eyes

silently weeping starlight,

flooding the night

with a long low howl and the absence of moon

time spun an empty shadow into the web of darkness

and she could feel her heartbeat in the tall trees

waltzing

with their silhouettes,

long arms reaching, 

never touching or holding sky…

she drowned in oceans of longing to capture the stars

bathed in waves of starlight

~~~~~

fallen roses pressed inside the pages of your life

shades of scarlet bleed into the longing for a far away that never was, nor will ever be, this heart breaking and breaking and breaking delicately informs and outlines your tender beauty…

love colors in the imaginary spaces in between

petals gathered and pearled

into a sacred rosary of hope

caressed and worn away by a soft unyielding light,

a heart

melting

into a love without yesterdays

or tomorrows,

or even this undefinable kiss that distills the taste of taste into a sublime intoxication 

drunk on love’s untraceable beauty

caressing itself through your fingertips

your eyes light up the world

ignite this love

that burns itself,

explodes and implodes

infinitely…

intimately

love drinks herself through your lips

your tongue

your heart

where are you when love is not?

gown of roses

gown of hope

falling into petals into

echoes

of ashes

burning 

wind sings your name and you turn your

face caressed by an unknowing you no longer seek to escape or grasp

 

perhaps the longing to capture beauty stems from the impossibility of seeing our own

…how rich and wondrous that we cannot know what

beauty is

what love is

and what love is not?

~~~~~

deep purply

midnight blues 

bleed into scarlet sunset

where is darkness when we are not?

the song of moonlight pours over the canyon walls and

pools in this garden of echoes

singing me into a timeless dream of reflections

floating in midnight blues

forgotten stalks of sunflowers bloom with shadows

a black and white world hovers above the pond,

and you long for colors

remembered

and the splashing of rainbows

we are memories dreaming

fingerprints on water

are water

~~~~~

spaceless space sucks out our breath 

our heartbeat 

the marrow of love…

not even a world is left

no before or after or echo of dreams

lullaby of light in light

bathes in its own brilliance

waves of reflections breathe us sing us pour us through a dreamland of time and space and the love that hovers in between us

anointing our imaginary eyes with each others beauty

where we drown in the sensuous liquidity

of love 

~~~~~

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

~~~~~

such ease, no longer trying to escape or capture this world of ideas

or find a door or key or meaning to this wondrous universe that I am

~~~~~

no one has ever danced beyond this endless sky of imagining

dreaming clouds and rain and rainbows blooming

dreaming storms and lightning and unearthly calm

dreaming love and the loss of love

and despair and madness and deep deep sorrow

we are the waltz in between the shadows burning their own darkness, and this all consuming light that ignites itself

burnishing the echoes of our hearts into finer and finer filaments of memory strung like forgotten stars across an ancient sky

hanging in between the ethereal music of solar winds and softly our rushing heart songs

hands and hearts and eyes dance 

without direction or movement thought extinguishes galaxies

and lights up your and your world

the only world you can ever know

is inside you

and you are imaginary

~~~~~

people ask me ‘how are you?’ and I am stumped, 

I have no idea!

it feels like I am the missing of you, the loving of you,

the ache of this wondrous life

the longing to touch, knowing we never can... 

how can I miss you when I can never know or touch you as we are both a thought dream streaming through this mind stream? 

it is like colors pouring through rainbows and there are no separate colors to this symphony of life,

no separate notes in this dream song of love, 

yet without imaginary separation there is no melody or rhythm,

no me or you or love.... 

so it is both and neither, inseparably,

 a music without sound, a love song without lovers or voices,

and an undeniable stillness, a hush that blows away all ideas of movement and non movement, and sound and silence.... 

somehow both and neither and none yet one and two and many voices singing this chorus of unbearable beauty

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

~~~~~

waves and

oceans of not even nothing

evaporate

never seen

never not seen

into clouds

hovering

between the betweens of imagination

wings of your heart

are my heart

beating

breathing

echoes

of echoes this

pulse of aliveness sings

long notes of sunset

coalescing into a silent symphony reflecting in pools of absence

dissipating into infinite horizons collapsing

tsunami of love crashes on empty beaches

without sound or silence

worlds are born and die without any time or place within or without

~~~~~

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

beyond wondrous beyond enchanting beyond rapturous beyond all imaginary beyonds.... leaves us simply here wandering down timeless empty sidewalks, pouring into everyone's un-mistakingly beautiful eyes... 

and it is love and it is beyond all ideas of love and it is not an it and that

is love

~~~~

we are separate hearts

universes apart

beating to the rhythm of silence,

pouring through echoes of tears…

love cries out and weeps at her own beautiful absence sliding through your reflection

…we catch a glimpse of ourselves only through each others eyes

~~~~~

without you I am not

we are not

love is not

only in the dance of imaginary separation is there love, yet love is also the feeling of no separation and no things to be separate

is and is not, real and unreal, 

words, like wind, softly brush the dreamscape into a watercolor blooming and receding from an imaginary point of view.... as the view dissolves into the flowing, neither moving nor non moving.... 

all and everything that never was nor will ever be disappears

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

~~~~~

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

bathing in its own love

drinking deeply

love’s intoxication 

~~~~~

such ease, no longer trying to escape or capture this world of ideas

or find a door or key or meaning to this wondrous universe that I am

~~~~~

we are fluid memories

liquid photographs emerging and fading simultaneously

never captured never born transparent watercolors painting an elusive dreamworld of endless skies shattering into mirrors reflecting mountains growing and crumbling and rivers

rushing

overflowing

dissolving

into their own wetness

echoes

softly

falling into an

infinite

abyss

~~~~~

love sings

echoes surge and fall through the walls and the cracks in your heart

rolling waves of thunder and calm sear the backbeat of the rhythm of time

burning words into a flame that extinguishes all songs

in the rush of your breath

held

in my heart, in the ache to touch

that which is not

with fingers of moonlight

streaming

~~~~~

how would you know what a tree or the sky is without memory?

do you really know what a tree or the sky, or love is?

all you can do is describe with more words… the weight of the trunk or the fluid patterns of bark or long lithe branches and leaves

falling

or perhaps a painting or a song or a dance or a single violin note at midnight that would break my heart with your beauty…

but we can never know what a tree is or the sky or love is,

as they only are, when named

what would you be without memory?

how substantial is memory?

how substantial are you?

do you really know what you are

or if…. 

the winds of unknowing blow right through the tallest trees and

the strongest mountains…

ideas like time and space and endless sky

are painted with wind in wind

blowing the heart out of love

and the you out of you

not even an empty silhouette remains…

not even an echo

the known world seems like a dream

cloud castles dissolving

words unravel into meaningless sounds

as the sky and the tree tops dance

and the morning dove sings

~~~~~

asking why assumes an other moment an other path, a choice and a chooser

there never is other,

so there really is no ‘this’…

there cannot be a why, a when, a how, or a who as there is no other time or place or lover

self is the assumption of other and neither can be found or lost…

that I am a story is a story, that this is a fairytale of wonder is an illusion ...illusion is illusion…

edgeless shimmering transparency,

this hush of unknowing overflows and erases the banks of knowing

pours through our hands our hearts as it erases all sound and 

silence…

love sings in this canyon of echoes

we are the unsung music of tears cascading through their own wetness

flying through forever and never and erasing time and space

emptying even the vastness and absence of emptiness

we find ourselves in the eyes of our imaginary lovers

they are everyone,

everywhere

there is a look we recognize

the cry of aloneness and the longing for love

this broken hearted beauty

is us

it is our shared human-ness

it is love

~~~~~

how could you be apart from this obvious aliveness

this un-owned center-less sensuous seamless edgeless ungraspable aliveness, ease-fully appearing and dissolving without ever actually appearing or not?

soaring weightless feathered softness, through softness, a lullaby of a dream of love dreaming 

this breath, this imaginary heart beat of existence

is the song of this and that

and the lone cry of the mourning dove

pouring through the silent scales of evening

a song of empty hearts longing to be filled,

yet all is overflowing bursting, …even your aloneness

even the sigh of your distant shadow

echoing the night

Imaginary Spaces In Between Us

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

this elusive all encompassing love and 

long slow notes of the softening rain echoing in your footfalls

dissolving into endless reflections

sky blooming and wilting into sky

~~~~~

fire and ice tear the curtains off your eyes and lighting rips open your heart

thunder rolls through the sky and mountains and very fabric of your being

and you fall

and you fall

and you crash through infinite mirrors

every shard reflecting the music of your life

shattering the razor edges of time

and space

and meaning

and

love peels off the skin of words, of sound, of echoes, of nothing at all…

a song without voices pierces deeply

in places we cannot find

as we are this seamless elusive aliveness that feels like love…

a single note

suspended

within and without these consonants and vowels

and the imaginary spaces in between us

~~~~~

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

and real lovers dancing….

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

life feels like a fluid landscape where ideas of things may swirl into stories, but they are un owned, there is no one to own them except a name that there is no one to identify with.... 

no self or other can be found, nor anything called love... or joy or happiness or sorrow or despair, hope and fear are gone... 

is this a calm inside a storm when there is no inside or out?

this feels more like an all embracing super saturated sweep of love has erased all knowing, all imaginary lines, an edgeless embrace from the inside and out and middle….

 there appears to be a dancer in this dance, but there is not, it is all dance, and yes, truly it is not anything or nothing at all

not even love

~~~~~

I am the song of life of love of nothing at all

…breathless as your beauty flows through me as me as us as love

cascades through the imaginary spaces in between us

in this

scintillating dance of space in space

tides of joy and sorrow coalesce

leaving not even an echo of wholeness

in the dream of wind

soaring

effortlessly

through wind

~~~~~

there is no other, so there is no this, and without two or one or none there is no place to begin or arrive.... 

there is no path and no one to traverse imaginary distances between everywhere and no where... or from falsehood to truth or from real to unreal, or to an imaginary condition called freedom as there are no things or non things or time or timelessness….

simply no one to be free or bound or enlightened or who can know or not know anything or nothing

like a real surreal movie without actors or a plot or a beginning or end... 

yet always and never beginning and ending without ever becoming a real or unreal thing, 

…and memory seemingly filling in the spaceless spaces with lines and colors and shapes morphing into other amorphous shapes 

and there is no feeling of solidity yet it is known there is no liquidity,

and the imagined points of light swirl and dance and merge and separate

and hands and hearts reach out to touch the swirling magical dream show but they are it, 

and there is no feeling that this is a me or not me for there is no one in the center, there is no edge, 

there are no real or unreal dimensions or non dimensions, no real or unreal movement or non movement.... 

are there others is there a point of view is there an inside or outside? 

…none can be found nor a looker or searcher of meaning or non meaning, nor anyone to try to capture this loveliness, this enchantment, this love that seems to sing itself with every word with no words,

as the singing of this is it... 

there are no steps in this dance of love,

no lovers dancing in this ephemeral ballet of wonder

empty of emptiness yet overflowing

this utter devastation of belief in belief leaves everything and not even nothing

both and neither…

utterly marvelous and superb

this void within a void within a dream of a void,

and a dream of love swirling through this dream of a dream of love

~~~~~

this dance of waves reaching.... tides receding... and pale silvery moons fading.... did these words bloom before they wilted?

was there ever a lover or beloved?

was there ever love before the wind blew these letters into a low long night bereft of moonlight and her shadow,

empty of moon songs, empty of love songs, empty of emptiness…

soaring wingless through rivers of sky

ocean of dreams plunges through its own wetness, its own tears sing this very thought stream that paints you and your world…

drifting through a dream spell of time and space is this enchantment this hologram this obvious ungraspable aliveness, this magic without other, marvelous beyond measure

~~~~~

what magic lies in the deep impenetrable canyons of of your heart?

are there flowers you cannot see or touch or smell,

rivers rushing over rocks cascading through rainbows

floating

shadows streaming through memories of light

cascading echoes into a love song you cannot hear?

a forever never distance of endless tomorrows bleeding into a 

bottomless infinity of tears where

no one is wandering

under the towering cliffs

along the sandy banks

overflowing with the unfathomable weightlessness and fullness of light

~~~~~

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

~~~~~

we are this magic and there is only magic

we are this love

there is no one to be love 

there is no love

its all love

your beauty slips into my heart and sings

~~~~~

this liquid web of thought paints the imaginary separation of thought and awareness of thought...

the game of twoness arises spontaneously

a call and answer love song painting love into a dream,

a dream dreaming itself ...kinda sorta a dream of a dream dreaming... 

all knowing is imaginary... all words paint the illusion… illusion is illusion

…all words reference other words as there is nothing underneath thought... 

the swirling thought dream seems to have a center as all thought seems to reference a self, as every word seems to make a ‘thing’, and every thing named means that there is that ‘thing', and all that is not that thing, and that which is not that thing is you

such beautiful architecture... palisades and castles to soar through and tears, cascading, and clouds and rain and deep dark ravines to fall into... 

every word brushes your beauty into the dream .... paints you from the inside and out,

fabricates you and your unique world

thought seems to make things, not out of thin air or emptiness.. there is no source

the apparent weaving of thought into us and our world can be somehow seen known and felt to be imaginary... 

there is no one to be free or bound in this web of thought

we exist as and in only as the thought dream 

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

and the last song blooms in your beautiful lips

liquid echoes pouring through a waterfall of tears

leaves puddle in petals of autumn 

~~~~~

no edges nor lack of edges can be found or lost along this trail of echoes

there is no bottom or surface, nor center to this ocean of dreams

no reference points can be found or lost in endless sky as there is no one looking, and no ground to stand on

there is no other, nor this, nothing to form or dissolve these sensuous liquid sounds of transparency as they glow and ripple, soaring through the music of light, submerged and subsumed by the lack of sound and silence

…love cannot know itself

as it is love itself

softly

gently

love swallows her own reflection

a story of love hovers above the horizon of ideas as it folds into itself, into a book of unknowing, all lines dissolve into strings of words weaving a story of a story… full yet empty, empty yet full

rich utter aliveness, love and beauty and awe and nothing and everything

we cannot know love as we are it

there is no it, there is no love

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

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

blows away

~~~~~

reaching out to touch the light

sunlight streams through my fingers

liquid hearts flow through their own rippling

fluid softness spins the the dream with dream songs

gossamer filaments cannot hold the fabric of imagination

nor words hold the darkness at bay

web of light

cannot hold light

shadows burn my reflection

there is no source to be found

love burns infinite echoes of colors

fading

even midnight is swallowed by the dream of emptiness

and the shimmering magic flows through the imaginary spaces 

between our eyes, our hearts, this dream of love swooning into its own reflection

memory shapes the sensory world

coloring echoes and reflections into a luscious sensuous flowing waterfall of wetness of biomorphic love

absorbed immersed in fathomless depths and infinite heights of wonder

words softly fall through the song of heaven

love rips off the clothes of darkness that seemed to obscure the light

burning love into the dream of sadness, and beauty in your eyes

there are no clothes other than the costume that you are

feathered magic blooming into petals of wonder falling soaring streaming through echoes of a love song hovering in between darkness and light and the imaginary spaces in between us

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

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

~~~~~

waves of love softly bathe the depths of sorrow and you plummet through the bottomless empty breath of time

tears are love’s beautiful reflections singing streaming liquid echoes falling through the heart’s gentle sigh

through wastelands of sorrow and devastating joy

memory paints our uniqueness and our sameness in each others eyes

we emerge and dance in between the beats of our hearts

imaginary wings flooding light and dark into the dream of time

we are echoes dancing in a ballet of echoes

sky falling into acres of sky

winds of forever

never reach the end of distance

nothing is held in the embrace of infinity’s fluid gaze

in the abyss of boundless being, love cannot see her reflection without our eyes

~~~~~

in everyone's eyes I see a universe of lost and found love, the beautiful heartbreak of existence, 

...I see a crying out of our ultimate aloneness and the longing to touch.

in the beginning it was hard to hide the love. I still want to hug everyone I meet and tell them that they are unutterably beautiful and that I love them, but I don't. 

however, sometimes just a look, and it is deeply recognized that we are each other.  

because we are.

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

how can I not love you

when I am the loving of you?

~~~~~

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

webs of words spin into a flowing tapestry appearing and disappearing simultaneously

brewing the ache of these unbearably delicate senses into an intoxication

of utter mind blowing wonder

drinking itself through our eyes we are this elusive enchantment 

love is drunk on love

instantaneous fleeting haunting beauty

soars through my senses, as I am the soaring,

the scent of the last days of summer in my cat’s fur

fields of un-nameable sensuousness plowed by words into silent streams

of images that memory tucks into a timeline where death is always lingering

breath hovers on the pinwheel of time

and the colors flashing

~~~~~

there is no meaning nor non meaning. there is no one nor two nor many nor none.... 

no this nor that nor both nor neither.... is and not is, neither and both.... 

poetry can leave the mind hanging with no where to land 

…no certitude.... 

those who love my songs like to listen and get lost in the beauty…

the sensuous of lostness 

the knowing feeling of no separation feels like no self and no other, 

indicating our ultimate aloneness.... 

which everyone senses as an individual who can never know what life looks or feels like for another, as well as this ultimate aloneness, 

when there is no one to be alone, or joined.... 

it seems like everyone is the reaching out for love, everyone has known love and lost love and yearns to merge, but we never can merge as we are imaginary selves and are written with memories that we can only speak about in these flowing beautiful unique stories, 

we can share only so much of this unspeakable wondrousness.... 

when you realize how rich and full life this symphony of life is,

and a string of thought can only sing of a smell or a taste or a touch... but there is a land scape of wonder that is singing always.... 

we are these stories of aloneness that we share

and it feels like love

~~~~~