life is...

superbowl sunday

reports fighting continues

life is entertainment

Grief At the End of the Road

 The sky turned into a white open hand,

a strange heaven, self revealed at last,

shining tears of things remembered

and their oblivion a wondrous dust

in our hands. We became every silence

everywhere.

Our souls burst open

becoming light, a certain state of mind.

Words flowed through everything and we

could hold them in our hands.

All wounds but whirling ash

consumed in holy flame.

Pitaa Hamarra

Pitaa Hamarra

(keeping the twilight)

The wind is blowing new ways to love.  Somewhere over the garden walls heavenly rivers flow like blood flows through our bodies, a miraculous healing everywhere, everywhere, of wounds we didn't even know we suffered.  When matter meets matter, a cold eye of the moon.  When an answer meets an answer, lips across my bones.  When matter meets an answer, only a few miles from home. And that's because we don't only live in the world.  We make it up.

A Promise

The Peep show

of the Moonlight Milkshake Stars

and the Bubble of Eternity in the Unborn Void

of Everything we love

means nothing but more and more

spicy, mind over matter surprises.

Don’t be fooled.

The milky juice of everything

is spilling over, door to door,

up and down, a madplay

of promise, spinning all of us

into one song of soft breathing.

And it’s very sunny

this snowy morning.

four haiku from aspen

blue to cloud to stars

maybe I'll write a haiku

but Zen is not self conscious

 

beauty of the art

impossible dream of words

diamond poetry

cold morning light

raw frost sketches on window

signed Artist Unknown

three birds on a wire

two look to the east one west

radical gestures