says the wind ¿who are you?
the low round green-haired maple,
her tresses bobbing as a question would
question-and-response moving swift,
moving faster than eyes can see
no change, hand to hand
¿who are you? says the wind
I am doing you, is who I am.
this isn’t the poem you were
this poem is ill-kept,
ill-mannered, temperamental at best.
this poem hasn’t eaten for days!
that glint in the eye shouldn’t be
mistaken for affectionate wisdom
except as it applies to a dinner plate.
are you someone good to eat?
some truth is best understood from
a distance generously paced away.
don’t tempt with rosebud fingertips
giggling through a wire fence.
sampling is mandatory here.
beneath the bodhi tree
sitting, walking, make no distance.
you choose. your intent.
use your feet like your mouth.
kiss what nurtures you. observe
how you stand.
your silence might meditate, however
notice, everything speaks.
stones, gravel, sand, falling rain,
the cat amusing your feet.
the chorus is as big as everything.
a perfect earth cannot become
more wise than its limbs.
we are fish in shallow water wanting
knowledge but only as we see fit to
receive. surrender wisdom first.
no pockets to fill or keep.
lion tamers are pretty cool. not the ones in cages,
but the ones out on the bare scrub savannah with
full-faced fair regard.
but to say “tamer”, that’s less precise than saying,
a chair or whip would spoil everything!
what more to ask of love?
when we fall asleep where do we go?
two legs swinging over the edge, water
and fish below. no line, no hook.
maybe a boat will come. we’ll fly past
the moon. scatter some crumbs on cheese.
did we remember to bring the cat?
a calico of unusual residence.
do I dream of poems? no, more likely
pie. peach to make a wish.
cross the line. yawn. a second time.
write home to mom. a figure of speech.
the cat is nibbling toes. no new poem
yet. I’m late. and the world goes on.
sleep cares neither. the world is fine.
wake to write another day.
wait two billion years for the earth to cool.
wait more for the land to build up and then
wait for unending rain. filling a bathtub is easy.
filling an ocean takes some long intent.
wait for things to grind.
better tell grandma where you’re going today.
wait for the grocery to open. we need some
bread, beef and cheese for sandwiches.
be sure the tank is filled with gasoline.
clean underwear? better check.
aim west over the dark towering trees till
there, cultivated rows of artichoke blooms.
notice how the roadside dirt is changing to sand.
then distant lion’s roar morphs into gulls overhead.
we’re here. there’s grandma in the waves.
on the occasion of change.
water falls, becomes a river, then the sky again.
that is the true nature of embrace.
of a Sufi poet a few hundred years ago,
Unable to perceive the shape of You…
I find You all around me.
Your presence fills my eyes with Your love…
It humbles my heart…
For You are everywhere.
look into the face of everywhere,
realize that also means every when.
no lie, the light of a star continues
its far flight, visible to patient eyes,
I have listened to you and hear your
language with her yet resides in present time.
honor that voice.
if life is a question gifted us
then the answer to pain is love.
read footnotes about this poem