petunias, their scent
in the summer darkness
Thursday, August 19, 2010
dusk in august
two glimmering insects make love
on a pale leaf
in silence, stillness
one delicate black leg
gently strokes a lover's wing
the leaf shivers in
a sudden cool wind
bringing the mysteries of autumn
to this late august dusk
the moon, bright yellow,
behind the moving clouds
on a pale leaf
in silence, stillness
one delicate black leg
gently strokes a lover's wing
the leaf shivers in
a sudden cool wind
bringing the mysteries of autumn
to this late august dusk
the moon, bright yellow,
behind the moving clouds
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
faith
breathe
not turning away is eventual freedom
for all beings
where is the strong heart born?
i had a dream
that love came from emptiness
from the void inside, freed, to
permeate all life
when i woke, i wasn't so confident
wanting one answer, i sit and think
when i get up to do my calisthenics
love is born in the actions of my muscles
i suspect the strong heart is born
every moment, with every breath
now i must start breathing
not turning away is eventual freedom
for all beings
where is the strong heart born?
i had a dream
that love came from emptiness
from the void inside, freed, to
permeate all life
when i woke, i wasn't so confident
wanting one answer, i sit and think
when i get up to do my calisthenics
love is born in the actions of my muscles
i suspect the strong heart is born
every moment, with every breath
now i must start breathing
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Poem by Stonehouse, a Chinese Hermit, c.1272
A monk in the wild sits quiet and relaxed
he survives all year on what karma brings
bamboo and yellow flowers occupy his thoughts
white clouds and streams simplify his life
he doesn't mistake a rock for a tiger on a hill
or the image of a bow for a snake in a bowl
in the woods he knows nothing of the world's affairs
at sunset he watches the crows return
he survives all year on what karma brings
bamboo and yellow flowers occupy his thoughts
white clouds and streams simplify his life
he doesn't mistake a rock for a tiger on a hill
or the image of a bow for a snake in a bowl
in the woods he knows nothing of the world's affairs
at sunset he watches the crows return
rainy day
rain on the canopy
above tall, tall trees
i can hear and smell water
but i feel only a few drops on my skin
monarch butterflies in the wet fields
a old man on his balcony with bare feet
the highway echoing in the distance
white flowers by the road side
oh, jean, i'm delightfully
wonderfully, deeply, sad!
my heart aches
low down in my body
for all of us, dear ones
above tall, tall trees
i can hear and smell water
but i feel only a few drops on my skin
monarch butterflies in the wet fields
a old man on his balcony with bare feet
the highway echoing in the distance
white flowers by the road side
oh, jean, i'm delightfully
wonderfully, deeply, sad!
my heart aches
low down in my body
for all of us, dear ones
Sunday, August 1, 2010
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