more poetry
Meteoric Iron Mountain

Meteoric iron mountain piercing to the sky,
With lightning and hailstorm clouds round about it.
There is so much energy where I live
Which feeds me.
There is no romantic mystique,
There is just a village boy
On a cold wet morning
Going to the farm
Fetching milk for the family.
Foolishness and wisdom
Grandeur and simpicity
Are all the same
Because they live on what they are.
There is no application for exotic wisdom.
Wisdom must communicate
To the men of now.
Dharma is the study of what is
And fulfills the understanding of what is here right
now.
The ripple expands when you throw the pebble:
It is true, a fact.
That is the point of faith,
Of full coonviction,
Which no one can defeat or challenge.

Please, readers,
Read it slowly
So you can feel
The depth of calmness as you read.
Love to you.
I am the Bodhisattva who will no abandon you,
In accordance with my vow.
Compassion to all.

               -- Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
On Trust in the Heart

Clinging to this or to that beyond measure
The heart trusts to bypaths that lead it astray.
Let things take their own course; know that the Essence
Will neither go nor stay;
Let your nature blend with the Way and wander in it free from care.

           -- Seng-ts'an
Singing Image of Fire

A hand moves, and the fire'swhirling takes different shapes:
All things change when we do.
The first word, "Ah," blossoms into all others.
Eath of them is true.


      
       -- kukai.
It did not seem so difficult. She need trouble him with no gift of her own. She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and the two will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its highest. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that life is to either, will die.
          -- E M Forster (HOWARD'S END)
The End

I am I, old Father Fisheye that begat the ocean, the worm at my
     own ear, the serpent turning around a tree,
I sit in the mind of the oak and hide in the rose, I know if any
     wake up, none but my death,
come to me bodies, come to me prophecies, come all foreboding,
     come spirits and visions,
I receive all, I'll die of cancer, I enter the coffin forever, I close
     my eye, I disappear,
I fall on myself in winter snow, I roll in a great wheel through
     rain, I watch fuckers in convulsion,
car screech, furies groaning their basso music, memory fading
     in the brain, men imitating dogs,
I delight in a woman's belly, youth stretching his breasts and
     thighs to sex, the cock sprung inward
gassing its seed on the lips of Yin, the beasts dance in Siam,
     they sing opera in Moscow,
my boys yearn at dusk on stoops, I enter New York, I play my
     jazz on a Chicago Harpsichord,
Love that bore me I bear back to my Origin with no loss, I float
     over the vomiter
thrilled with my deathlessness, thrilled with this endlessness I
     dice and bury,
come Poet shut up eat my word, and taste my mouth in your ear.

   --  Allen Ginsberg, NYC, 1960.
Dark young pine, at the center of the earth originating,
I have made your sacrifice.
Whiteshell, turquise, abalone beautiful,
Jet beautiful, fool's gold beautiful, blue pollen beautiful,
reed pollen, pollen beautiful, your sacrifice I have made.
This day your child I have become, I say.

Watch over me.
Hold your hand before me in protection.
Stand guard  for me, speak in defense of me.
As I speak for you, speak for me.
As you speak for me, so will I speak for you.

May it be beautiful before me,
May it be beautiful behind me,
May it be beautiful below me,
May it be beautiful above me,
May it be beautiful all around me.

I am restored in beauty.
I am restored in beauty.
I am restored in beauty.
I am restored in beauty.

   Changing Woman (daughter of First Man
         and mother of the Navaho people.)
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