first light forgiven being bold

I am the sound.   I am not the voice.

I am the empty shell.   wind whistles me.

when you listen to me, you are listening to wind.

I am this much big.   farther now than I can see.

bigger also seems to mean a thinner thread.

I am a fish awash on the beach.   someone will find me soon.

healed or eaten.   either will be sufficient.   next.

I don’t know.   don’t know what face wants finding now.

I know what’s left behind.

I know what never arrived.

I am the dawn with sleeping eyes.   perhaps.

perhaps to know your name.   a river does.
 
 
will you know mine, in first light.
 
 
 
 
 
 

I am this much

     it could be any afternoon
 
 
 
I am a poem.   so are you.

I stand alone.   you stand beside me here.

I am a book.   I write words.   I mean more than that.

I am an only son.   I am first.   I am last.

I am a student on a yellow bus.

I was young.   I have memory.   I remember you.

I remember loving you.   true, for better, for worse.

I do the best I can.   seriously.

I refuse to fight.   past and present tense.

I drove a red pickup truck.   I smile when I can.

I have rescued people.   I’ve been rescued.

I am older than before.

I am broken inside.

I love.   I eat.   I sleep.   my life.

I swim.   the ocean is one home.

I am the center of a universe.   one of them.

I am the salt in my blood.

I sleep both more and less than I might.

I am a friend.   I am loyal.   I’m not the best.

I try to be who I am.   I am me anyway.

I am tall.   I am short.

I am soft spoken.   I am persistent.

I endure.   for now.

I love you.   that is the best of me.   of all of us.

I remain.   I will go away.

I love you.   I have nothing better to say.

 
 
 
 
 

another reason for light

Principles of Structural Chemistry
 
 
 
a leaf is the way a tree grows a glove.

they lay on the grass, side by side.

telling one from another is more desire
              than composition.
 
 
 
illuminate.
 
 
we are all gatherings of light,
look see, bubbles, that’s what we are.

bubbles with shells all the way around.

the concept beauty is inside the eyes.
we look around to find it, like we do
              inside.

old thoughts.       old buildings.
much the same.       some of them gone.

you don’t expect when things change.
they change like choice, bigger than me.

lanterns.       flames follow wind.       light
follows that.

an explanation would be, being blind.
instead.       gratitude.

a thousand thousand lights.

another day.       and you.

another moon.

 
 
 
 
 

matters much

 

the Dalai Lama told me so.

 
 
 
 
do I think it matters, but not for me.

no question marks.   not empirical.

a process of relationship.   like

the moon, the earth, like sky, like

my hand.   like a white butterfly.

shall I worry for the trail thirty

minutes behind me now.   will

I return.   would it be the same.

the better wish, will it remember

me.   as I now remember, there.
 
 
I used to be as big as the universe.

and will be, again.   no fare,

remembering.

it’s all gone inside.   that’s the part

the Dali Lama said to me.

in a dream, didn’t I say.   just like

right now.   loving you.
 
 
there, that’s the part I always want

to keep.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in his honor

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet

 
 
 
 
 

how a butterfly feels

 

 
 
 

              feels like dying, being alive.
     
     
     
    this poem, what did it look like when
    it was a first birth.   not a question.

              stepping stones.   after all.
     
     
     
     
    here there is a room.   there is a desk.
    four walls and a roof.   oh yea, a floor for my feet.

              wonder.   is a pinnacle.

    it’s the second floor above.   desktop, two arms reach.
    garden where there isn’t roof.   letters under fingertips.

    a fence, a gate.   sometimes snow.   listening.
              all I mean.
              it is more than me.
    a road, feet on stone.   quietly.

    random noises.   make far and near.   I’m not the center.
              even when it feels that way.
     
     
    these raining words, more kind than me.   more better.
    more stronger.      more loving.

    more astonished.

    mostly so.   that they find my fingers eagerly.
     
     
    it is a blessing.    after all.

 
 
 
 
 
 

writing meditation

                            does ordinary count?
 
 
 
how’s that look?   no crossed legs.
       go ahead.
       scratch that itch.   no rules.

       listen.   yea, do that.
 
 
under the carpet.   right where I stand.   no Tibet.

hidden in plain sight?   no.   in front of my face.
       hidden, same as is the sky.

eyes closed.   that’s how I hide myself.
 
 
mouth open.   waiting for words to arrive.   taller than me.
 
 
thoughts circle.   eating their tails.   pleading thoughts.
but here’s one choice.

       let go.

       same like falling is.   same like flying is.

better grace.   knowing how to find my self.
 
 
 
better.   finding me inside my stance.
 
 
 
nothing to do.  nothing, already arrived.

empty space has a face.

       yours, I recognize.

pointless.   elliptical.   listening.
appreciation grants harvesting.
       prescribed, she says to me.
 
 

am I audible?

that’s my prayer.
 
 
no matter.    but yes.

I remember now.    loving.    you.
 
 
 
 
 
 
        meditate.

 
 
 
 
 
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