Archive | August, 2009

just another drop (24 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

I wash into an
open heart, mine, to find
me relaxing beside the sea

playing on the swell, I am
the crest, unwavering
in the tide, I can

surrender to the rain
I can be just as I am
I can be just as I am, still

he tells me, sweet
open heart, sweet heart

it is not enough
to make love on this island
of the fullest kind

(of the kind where we no longer exist)

where romance and fantasy
butterfly kiss, and so we blink
or blur from tender gaze


no thing (24 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

there is only nothing
to be obtained
nothing to be got

nothing to be felt
nothing that can be divided
(as if I had anything to do with it)

This, that I have gazed upon
pointed my arrow to
and found myself travelling

within a place never in my grasp
like a direction that can not point
to itself, like a sunbeam sitting on a mirror

it all leaves me

and everything
hiding from

just a thought (23 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

I am but a thought
  away, just one single thought
  into existence I am

  apart of every word
  rocking, swelling and
  lapping at my seeing

  mind, I am closing and
  stilling in the seasick
  ocean of words

  my mind troubled with
  motion, disturbance becomes
  static, it is

  a body of water heavy and
  uncomfortable, like truth
  in deep and subtle sensitivity

some kind of lust (23 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

like a song bouncing in full
like notes off empty echoes
and lingering in the absence

of absence, like a pack of dogs
howling at night and calling
up ghosts, the fire of love and death

flaming my intoxication, joining the
divine like madness
that melody of moving

stillness, no thought escapes
let me adulterate every
chaste thought of you

as one who sees the saint
before sunrise, and calls
her a sinner

let it be seen square on
how madness beats a heart
into action, what strength

to grasp the truth, I command
my every step aware, lest
the shit clings

India (16 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

I said I would come
(but I said)

only when a man
with the tenderest

  to live like vibrant poverty
and the devotion
  to love, wearing garlands and garlands

of orange and with laughter
  sincere (honking spontaneous)
and he must be deeply open

(yes, even shakti eyes and freckle kissed arms)
can as my equal, stand
by my side

to all this I promised
only then would I come
within India’s sunrise

and dawning, I find
my beloved
illusion of love

(you give me exactly what I ask for)

in all this poetry
called India

hermit (16 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

in the most populous
place and in the fire of
dead night

the orange robe emerges
and wraps to my body
Glory Alone

take me to the centre of
my own Hermit
the ascetic of light

and wisdom, and when
all shadows pass
round the drumming circle

and beat jubilant Death
I find the jewel of a transformed
Acquaintance, the Inner

Now guides
me into devotion
and into this boundless self

I am that (15 Dec 2007)

22 Aug

never mind the
distractions –
sleep is broken by

the symphonies of five
year olds on the off key
accordion of Tirumvannamalai’s breath

and life times evolving
around the playful thump
and toot of their fingers

like traffic jams on a keyboard
or an Indian funeral procession
clanging the right to surrender

to all other lifetimes
to ringing stillness
yes, forget my slumber

it’s dawning again
that I am that
  dying to this

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