After Working Outdoors

This garden skyward greens and blooms
man-tended watered weeded free
to breathe both sun and rain
liberated by Edenic desires
to nourish and be fed in turn
by each emergent form,
every radiant rainbow flora
launched spontaneous light-ward
in their trusting leap,
a simple opening to what is,
the common purpose of each living thing
that opens petals wide to let the daylight in.

About Last Night

When you sparkle so close
the edges of your beams
pierce my skin painlessly,
slip unresisted through each cell,
penetrate with surgical precision
the places I pretend are secret.

From here,
there is
nowhere else to go.

Changing Weather

When things first got
thin enough for most to notice
more translucency than usual,
some thought it might be
an unexpected quantum consequence
of space-time expansion.

I’m in the garden
when the rain starts,
the rooster crows,
another answers
from half a mile away.

The life begun
on this mountain height
incubates divinity—
sentient heroic free wings.

We watch the hologram dissolve,
fade to rainbows and bright white
when each bead of Indra’s diamond matrix
wakes from dreams fabricated
in imaginary cauldrons,
rises from sleep sparking mind-light
from behind the facets,
from the center of each gem,
from the middle of them all.

Everyone is satisfied,
falls quiet listening
for God’s breath
on the back of their heads.

Resplendent and stoic streamings
penetrate insanity,
set the dragons to flight;
the past is done.

Infinite clarity
reflected and added to
from every direction at once.

There is a minute of silence,
then the rain stops,
the day begins.

Radiant angelic beings
populate infinity
with the children of light,
the tribe of one.

Insha'Allah, if’n the Crick Don’t Rise:

Prayer of the Heart for the Victims of 9/11 both Living and Dead

Someday
we will all
unplug our televisions
and shut down our computers
at the same time.

We’ll turn out all the lights
before going outside
to see if we can still find
the Milky Way.

There’s always enough light
for everyone,
if no one
hides their own shining.

Someday
we will all go quiet
at the same time
under a bright diamond
midnight sky
just like tonight’s.

In Yahweh’s sacred presence,
by Allah the merciful and just,
in submission to
the Compassionate One,
the God Who is Love,
in the sight of
all that is holy and just
and wholly true,
in the name of Moses,
Jesus and Mohammed
(peace be upon them all),
may justice reign,
forgiveness bloom,
vision reveal
one mind shared,
the same Being we extend,
this single healing light
that neither time nor space obstructs.

Light-Seeking Missives

Airborne ambient piezoelectric
backyard mindfulness bells
rising falling
crescendo fade.

The impossibly winged buzz
of hummingbirds approaching
receding rising diving
straight down
blazing tiny kamikazes
pull out at the last
possible moment
like that time when I was
decades younger and more foolish
with my girlfriend
when her parents were
unexpectedly away
for the weekend,
but I’m not
going to talk about that
here,
so you can relax.

Suffice it to say that
love appears in many forms,
goes beyond them all,
falls into a single
confluence of histories,
cascades over the same one
waterfall of grace that feeds
each man woman and child.

A leaf of clover
breaks through dark tar
at road’s end,
cracks it
from below.

In an instant,
it’s bright for the first time
on a single stretch of new green,
blue-sky nude and warm,
baptized by a breeze.

Coronation

I waited for you
for a long time
out on that bright wave’s
ice-sharp curl
against the wind
until clouds bloomed orange
in the west
and the shoreline
disappeared.

This net of dewdrops
cast for you
requires no matching evening gown,
no shape-shifting pumpkin opulence
drawn by white steeds wrung
from the stem-cells
of house mice.

With these crown jewels,
these bubbles of light,
hands full
and wet with love
I baptize thee
in Being’s
holy presence,
wait no more for you,
nor you for me.

We stand for a long time
out where the waves disappear
in the middle of the sea
under the stars at midnight
until the carriage comes.

Inter-Species Dialogue

The dogs are tired of me
pretending to be
human.

They want to feel that same
happy star-shine they
got sprayed with
while I sat out
here last night
all let-go languid
in the light
that bathed them in
warm breaths
through the grasses
waving still
radiant still
beyond colors
transparent and laughing
like elves taking
secret showers
under the waterfall
at midnight
when no one will see
just how beautiful
their wings are
under the moon.

Our merely human minds
would melt.

We would follow them anywhere
if we glimpsed it
for an instant.

We would leave everything
else behind;
everything.

The dogs have decided
they’re coming with me;
so we go for a long
slow walk in the dark
to where the river starts.

I tell them
I am tired of them
pretending to be
dogs.

Waking Up

This morning
staggers out of bed,
finds a seat
under a dead tree
on the back porch,
waits for God
to talk to him again.

So exquisitely hypnotic—
this rising sun,
that rooster crowing,
this enmeshment with a
brighter more convincing dream
until it seems
quite real
for every purpose
under heaven.

When
senses eyes hearts ears
skin mind mouth nose
witness open wide enough
we see
a truer purpose
shining here
so bright we watch
the ground disappear.

Sparrows arc through the air
below me sunlight shining
through wings
from the closest western star.

I wonder what they
really are.

They look more like angels
than any birds I’ve
ever seen.

I wonder what this
really means.

Of all the bubbling dreams,
there’s not a single one but seems
to be,
and all the while you’re here
with me—
every one of you,
awake
or yet to rise.

Bad Company

It’s been a few years
since the fear left,
but I’m still a slave
to types of craving
from time to time.

They never quite
take over my life
anymore,
but old friends come knocking
at the front door
at odd hours
of the day and night.

Sometimes
I still let myself answer
just to make sure
it’s really them,
that they’re still available
anytime I need.

You Won’t Want to Hear This, Until You Do

What you’re afraid of
doesn’t exist.
You’re angry because
you attend to what’s not here.
You’re depressed about
something you’ve imagined.

You aren’t anything like
the person you think you are.
You never had a birthday,
can’t experience death.
You’re invulnerable, infinitely free, omnipotent.
You’re harmless, compassionate, at peace.

This tiny speck of seeming
whirling madness that you see
through your apparently
physical eyes,
this swirl of sentient thoughts you think
through your ostensibly
human brain
all flow from misperceptions,
fleeting fantasies
long since passed away.

These are only images
you thought you saw
in a rearview mirror
while driving through
some solitary dreamscape
in a past that never was.

Let it go.
The sun is rising.

On Beginnings

Do not begin the day
with scattered scrapped
shards of dreams shattered
on the cluttered shores
of dawn’s demands,
each quivering sliver
still bleeding with desires
for private phantoms,
secret ghosts
and strictly personal illusions.

None of this is real;
this is your dream
you’re dreaming—
the whole charade
as far back as you recall,
every event,
each experience,
every seeming choice
and conscious act,
and even every thought
you ever thought
to think.

All of it—
this is your dream
you’re dreaming.

Therefore
begin the day again
by letting go of dreams
and nightmares both.

See how wide open
the sky is,
how unobstructed
the view,
how bright
the waking mind,
how clear
the Great Perfection
in every direction.