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Monday, September 30, 2013

we meet (haiku) 9/30/13

now at last we meet
to open to deeper means
to share what is so

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Legacy * 9/29/13

Legacy is a face-to-face exchange.
There is spark-to-spark, flame-to-flame.
Everything else is storage and custodial,
possessions, ownership to prestige.
It is an energetic pay-it-forward enterprise.
Not quite the same as nostalgic memories,
more of the lighting of candles,
advancing in the shared spirit cathedral.
Yes, people, as passersby,
will take it to be the form.
But really, upon closer introspection,
it is the spirit of embodiment embraced.
The chi of the being ever passed forward
impregnated and transmuting the forms
that are sensitively assimilate and absorbed
as going forward being to being.
Anything else is reduced to trinkets,
gizmo, knickknack, doohickey,
thingamajig, obsessions of gaining wealth.
Ho hum, for the inheritance of stuff
in the afterglow from the legacy of spirit.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

the weave (haiku) 9/28/13

the weave of meaning

provides as lucid backdrop
for sorrow’s journey

Friday, September 27, 2013

we went where we needed to go * 9/27/13

We went on a tour bus to the place where
we, as humans, are sanctuary.      
We took this cable car down into the mine
where we watched how sentient life
labors under the web weight of doing believing.      
We went to this institute 
to see how scientific minds 
squeezed the innards of commonness
out of all things.      
We then went to the theater of each other’s touch
to see how we form
as our own vessels’ receptors to physical contact.
We went to the daily newspaper 
and read up on how we mass together in passivity
as our own bloodless coup.      
We stood in front of a very large reflection
and saw how our confidence comes
out of the telling of history as memory would reframe.
We went to a potting kiln and reviewed
how to fire the brittleness of our contentions.      
We went to a very public place and noticed
all the benchmarks from the harvest
of our personal private collection of possessions.      
We went to a quiet place where we each gave 
reluctant breath to demonstrate our means
of minimizing our unending fascination with death.      
We went out into our rest homes
and watched how to stack up our used bodies
as if they were chronologs of our inner process.      
We left all our nouns at home
and went whore-dancing with the language of verbs.      
We gathered from the privacy of our minds
some lustful self-depictions
that we made into solemn yet savory denials.      
We all got on this ride in which we were swept up
into stall points of eventual submission.      
We then went to this banquet 
where we each acknowledged 
to our Judas-embarrassment
how easily apparent newness can settle in.      
We went to this festival 
where we each took turns 
privately weaving riddle-filled questions
that no one would otherwise dare to ask.      
Together we all stepped into the water
where there are rip currents of our own self-doubts.      
we forced ourselves to sequester in these rooms
until we were pent up with the rain-dance of desire      
and finally we each went to this inward place
where we blessedly took life-force
from the river of ourselves
poured into the cup of each other’s hearts.      
Then and only then, did we drink.      
We sipped, we dined, we drank
and we drowned.      
We became a dead ocean.      
We then leached ourselves from that sea.
Now, we are everything, that is truly sacred      
by not one of us, being spared . . .

Thursday, September 26, 2013

we will (haiku) 9/26/13

the more we will grow
in many ways unknowable
until much later