Self Text: a whole bunch of my stuff...

some of my own scribblings:
==-------------------------------------
"...Sitting crosslegged is of course not the only way to
do zen meditation. There's several other ways like
lying flat on ones back, walking, sitting on a stool, or
on different kinds of chairs. It seems like the way one
sits most often becomes the most useful way for them.
The main objective of all the different ways is for the
body to be upright and the clothing to be loose and
comfortable so that the breath is not hindered in any
way.
As Sogyol Rinpoche says in his book Advice on Meditation,
"...Meditation is simply a question of being, of melting, like"
a piece of butter left in the sun. It has nothing to do with
whether or not you "know" anything about it, in fact, each
time you practice meditation it should be fresh, as if it were
happening for the very first time. You just quietly sit, your
body still, your speech silent, your mind at ease, and allow
thoughts to come and go, without letting them play havoc on
you. If you need something to do, then watch the breathing.
This is a very simple process. When you are breathing out,
know that you are breathing out. When you breathe in, know
that you are breathing in, without supplying any kind of extra
commentary or internalized mental gossip, but just identifying
with the breath. That very simple process of mindfulness
processes your thoughts and emotions, and then, like an old
skin being shed, something is peeled off and freed..."
It's just a matter of letting go. Of doing nothing. Nothing but
sitting there breathing.
As another zen teacher said,
"...In zazen,
concentrate on your posture
and let everything else go by.
After a while, what is in the
subconscious rises to the
surface because mind can be
expressed. ..."

For penetrating to the depths
Of one’s own true self-nature,
And for attaining a vitality
Valid on all occasions,
Nothing can surpass
Meditation in the midst of activity.

- Hakuin (1686-1769)


No thought,
No reflection,
No analysis,
No cultivation,
No intention;
Let it settle itself."

When you can listen to your thoughts
without becoming lost in what you hear;
when you can hear them
without adding or subtracting,
without editing;
when you can remember the
very worst without cringing,
without even an eyeblink of the mind,
it’s then your life will turn.

- Journeys on Mind Mountain
from dailyzen.com 11/23/04


The practice of zazen is relatively simple to undertake.
The basic requirement is to sit cross-legged and
to keep your back straight.
Close your mouth, have your tongue touching the
roof of your mouth and
close (or half close) your eyes.
Have your hands resting in your lap with your
right hand resting in your left hand,
and the tips of your thumbs touching each other.
Now breathe gently in and out through your nose,
following the cycle of the natural breathing process.
If you wish you can count the breaths -
one for each in-breath/out breath cycle up to a
maximum of ten (and then start again).
As thoughts arise - as they inevitably will - simply note them and
return to focusing on your breathing.
Nothing should be forced and try not to get angry or frustrated with
yourself when you find that your mind has wandered here,
there and everywhere!
Eventually you can leave off the counting and focus on the breathing itself.
In time, and with practice, the distractions will become less,
leading to a sense of calm and stillness out of
which true realization is made possible

http://buddhism.about.com/cs/zen/a/Zazen.htm


"...To actualize the blessedness of meditation you should
practice with pure intention and firm determination.

Your meditation room should be clean and quiet.
Do not dwell in thoughts of good or bad.
Just relax and forget that you are meditating.
Do not desire realization since that thought will keep you confused.

Sit on a cushion in a manner as comfortable as possible, wearing loose clothing.
Hold your body straight without leaning to the left or the right, forward or backward.
Your ears should be in a line with your shoulders, and nose in a straight line with your navel.
Keep the tongue at the roof of the mouth and close your lips.
Eyes are slightly open, and breathing is quiet through the nostrils.

Before you begin meditation take several slow, deep breaths.
Hold your body erect, allowing your breathing to become normal again.
Many thoughts will crowd into your mind; ignore them, letting them go.
If they persist be aware of them with the awareness which does not think.
In other words, think non-thinking.

Zen meditation is not a physical culture, nor is it a method to gain something material.
It is peacefulness and blessedness itself. It is the actualization of truth and wisdom.

In your meditation you yourself are the mirror reflecting the solution of your problems.
The human mind has absolute freedom within its true nature. You can attain your freedom intuitively.
Do not work for freedom, rather allow the practice itself to be liberation.

When you wish to arise from meditation, move your body slowly and stand up quietly.

Practice this meditation in the morning or evening, or at any leisure time during the day.
You will soon realize that your mental burdens are dropping away one by one,
and that you are gaining an intuitive power hitherto unnoticed.

http://dailyzen.com/zen/zen_reading0401.asp





_________________________________

I am here; It is now,
the morrow of today.
I am Here; It is Now.
The morrow's yestern way.
Let the mist of morrow rise up and say
Be free to borrow along the way:
__ "a rag, a bone, a hank of hair,"__
And let the earth be always fair.
:-) -sef


_______________________________
Along Lars' lake shore early this spring:
These trees are greener than green!
They're the greenest green ever seen!!!
What, I wonder, does such a supercolossal
greener than green thing mean?
And do these trees,
"across the road between
toward each other lean?
Wait! Did I hear that bluebird up there reply
that there's more to this green than seen by eye?
But never mind the cause of such splendid green,
Just look at the gleam, the joyful spring,
the beauty of this scene has put to my mien! :-)

___________________________________-

Since "God," __"exalted above all
blessing and praise," is indescribable,
we could use a set of parentheses without
a word or anything inside them to write the
word "God," like this: ( ).
Zen Meditation is a way of being still for
a while. A way to
"be still and know that I am ( )."
It's a way of letting go.
A way of letting go and letting ( ).
Zen Meditation. Let go, let God.


__________________________________

Lightening flash bright
For one moment
And one moment only
Everything is crystal clear.



A magnificent moment
Is like a shooting star;
A flash in the sky.
Like an ocean wave,
It exemplifys the most
Ephemeral perspective.
-dale
______________________________

When we see that life has left a physical form, we call that death.
When we see that life has entered a physical form, we call that birth.

No matter if the physical form is a leaf, a fish, a tiger or a man, life comes
and goes. We call that birth and death.

But these comings and goings of life move so "microscopically" that
they are invisible to us and we can't see the complete cycle.
We can only see part of it.
But when we look around us, we see that life itself never ends.
We see life come and go as myriads of births and deaths but as for
LIFE itself, we never see it end.

But what about consciousness?
We are conscious of life.
We are conscious of birth and death.
We are conscious of the flow of life into and
out of myriads of physical forms.

Is our individual consciousness our "self" which flows along with
life into and out of myriads of physical forms, each having
its own uniqueness, whether they are people or blades of grass?

-dale4/24.2007

_______________________________________

Look at all those leaves!
Myriads of them, all the
same yet each different.
The door is open.
I walk out into the forest upon
whose floor the flowers grow,
I wander freely this way and
that, wherever my
nature leads me.
I wash my feet in the flowing
brook.
-dale 4/24/2007

-------------------------------------------

All around the sunken garden,
I slowly dragged my clog shod feet.
Tall weeds bent away to one
side and the other, making a
trail of green carpet.
I enjoyed the faint watermelon smell and
went all the way around and back to the steps.
Facing the emptiness of the old fish pond,
like Liu Ching, I sat long minutes inside a
sense of Zen, yet I cannot find the words.



Ten thousand things I thought
Turned out to be for naught,
In the shadow of a leaf on the ground,
Not a shred of of a leaf was ever found.
And so it is with "I thought it was true,"
Like a bird made of thought, it never flew.





One poor little half a melon
Left there all faded and forlorn
Already beginning to rot,
No longer sweet, starting to mourn
On a deserted beach, trashy and gray
All the happy children gone away.
Oh alack, alas! Oh woe is me,
It prays high tide: "wash me out to sea!"

_________
Sitting in the surf
Warm gulf waters gently moving
Around me
I sit there crosslegged
hugging my whole half a melon sweet
dipping a bare, wet hand into it's treat
dripping juice all down my chin
I don't hold back, I dive right in
Oh, Glory BE!!! I'm a KID again!


Mama Was Here
:-)
And she was very
Mindful
Even when washing dishes she
took time to notice little roses on the cups,
how the soap bubbles caught diamonds in
them from the sun shining in the window,
and one time she even stopped shelling our
supper peas to show me how beautiful a
pattern the stain made when I spilled a
splash of juice from the bluebery pie onto
my brand new lacy white blouse!
I remember the stain was red.
It looked like a little red flower and I wanted
to know how come blueberries made red juice. :-)
...Mama...
Wherever she went, there she was.
-dale
:-)

___________
Picking flowers from beside the trail,
I raise my eyes up through treetops to sky,
I see imaginary mountains raise tall white peaks
blending with, becoming white clouds.
Vapors come creeping in from nowhere and
a flock of redwing blackbirds fly in to roost.
Though I try to express this that is, I can't.
-ovia


I stood this morning
Under the crabapple tree;
I stood and looked straight up.
A camera to an eye in one little hand
And in the other a cup.
I sipped my coffee and
"snapped-the-scene"
As nonchalantly as you please.
I gave not a thought to nectar sweet
'til I heard the hum of the bees.
Then slowly I "snapped-and-sipped" my brew
Backing away all the while
And now as I look at this crabapple tree
All I can do is smile. :-)

-------------------------

It's time!
Time for some Spring Cleaning!

Back in long ago days before the way it is now,
We picked a long, warm, sunshiny day and
Got up EARLY in the morning, in fact even before
daylight we were already in the kitchen eating
Biscuits, sausages, eggs, and homemade JAM, then by
the time the sun was halfway up the morning sky,
We would have emptied out the whole house...
Nothing left therein, NO. NOt even a mouse!

Water we hauled in buckets and tubs
Sand we used and our cornshuck scrubs,
We cleaned that house from one end to the other
And everybody worked! Even the laziest brother!

Hhahahahahahahahah Oh what FUN!

All our beds and all our quilts,
pillows, sheets, and clothes
Anything and everything nothing left inside
Out in the open it goes!
To be washed and aired the whole day long,
Outside in the sun, and the wind
We beat the beddings with utmost glee,
Then at sundown we brought them back in.

Ah.... SPRING!!! Hhahahahaaa. Oh! What Fun!!!


Spring Cleaning's DONE!!! Oh how sweet it is!!!

Everything clean as a whistle, birds singing,
pears, plums, and berries blooming,
little green leaves popping out all over the
place, songs bursting forth from
the very earth itself.

Now.
Let's all take off our shoes
And go wade in the creek.
:-)
-ovia
_________________________________



Winter clings to the wind,
keeping me shut inside and
sleeping under warm blankets.
Although besieged by
storm and weathered,
this little house is
still my home sweet home.
I have no idea where
the years have gone;
It's as if they never were.

-April 8, 2007
___
____________________________
____

Tender green goldenrod stalks
shooting up beside the barn
not yet as high as my hand,
already there's blossoms
in their coiled roots.
Though the last frost has
frozen the tips of the tulips,
a cloud of white flowers have
covered one plum tree down by
the little water pond.
Long-legged grasshoppers stir;
Locusts make loud the late evensong,
And I'm watching two little brown
wrens building a nest .
After these years have gone,
many generations hence,
Who will bend over here in this spot,
digging up words about goldenrod flowers,
plum trees, and little brown wrens?

April 7,2007
__
___________________________________

_ Today,
I traveled to the
End of the Road.
_
(Where the warm,
fresh water swirls
around the
piling of the pier.)
_
The wood is well
preserved there,
bleached almost white by
summer sun, rain,
and sandy feet.
_
I crumbled.
Collapsed.
Fell to my face.
Emptied myself out,
_
And there I was,
on those wide, hot, boards,
soaking their soothing heat into
my Self;
A blissful skin bag full of:
Ingredients.
-ovia
April 6, 2007
___

Coldwater Creek and a
paper moon lead pathwalkers along;
Yellow jasmine and honeysuckle vines
decorate fallen tree branches;
Many winding trails await exploring:
Blossoming plum trees hide deep in
the white mist of mornings dewfall.


-----

Shady green trees grow in
all directions,
spreading out around a
tiny house perfectly
placed in sweet seclusion.
Beyond the hustle and bustle of
human busyness, in this little
island of solitude,
as old Han Shan said,
"all day behind my door
I sit alone cross-legged."
-ovia
-----------------------
Bright sun shining,
Briskly blowing breeze

Clothes waving on the line like flags unfurled

Ah 'tis a sight for sore eyes!
_________________________________

Red candy sweet flavor of fruit
Many blossoms spring from
The Bowl;
All the same but no two alike.
............

Blending into the dark greens of
Last summer,
Todays spring buds
Burst into bloom;
Blending with showers of warm rain,
Breezes stir the tops of trees.
I stand leaning on a post,
Letting time drift by un-noticed.
Winter's now like a
Forgotten dream,
Come and gone.

.......................................

Only one pathway cleared through
thick woods, brambles and briars.
The leaves of trees, twigs, even the very
sky itself drips under a floating mist.
On the verge of spring,
purple violets have already appeared.
I gather them together in hand,
bunches of fragrance to bury my
breathing face into.
Ah...sweet aroma!
Except for my feet alone,
this path has not been found.
..................................................

Dewfall and midnight moon,
Streaming starlight,
Raindrops gathering together as
clouds hover low on the horizon.
From earth and sky they all catch a gleam;
From emptiness, they all turn into form.
Awesomely infinite,
Wonder itself intertwines pure serenity.
Eyes open or closed makes no nevermind,
stars still stream raindrops into clouds of
moonlit diamonds to fall and
nestle themselves into green pine trees.
What more to say? That is all.

..................................................

The Condo's empty now.
Only one lonely little red x.
(Occupying the norttwestern corner)
No Sunshine No More
Sanibel Island Sand
Washed away with the tide.


Windows wide open,
Aiir fresh and cool.
The earth itself, with all its
many diverse goings on is
very strange and mysterious.
We cannot see its every
intricate operation,
We can only see...
...
This.


Confusion reigns supreme_on land, on sea, and in the air!
Alligators small enough to perch on my little finger and so
cute they make eight-year-old girls ooohhh and aaaahhhh;
Mountains small enough to make a mole hill,
Fish that ain't no fish a'tall, but something like sea cows,
Rivers running every-which-away...
Confusion!
Misty mists of it rise into the sky and float blissfully in
big, white, fluffy clouds of pure discombobulation.

All This,

While at the same time, there's a tree growing in Brooklyn!
:-)


Many's the time
One truth or another
Might very well smell
A stinky stuck shoe...
But more times it's like
This morning I was walking a
Round and a round and
along the way I picked a big
Handful of violets from their
Little hideway places among
The growing grasses leaves and such.
Now with windows wide open,
Sunshine streaming in
I smell that rare fragrance of
Violets in the air...



May all peoples
Everywhere
Do and be
-only that which is
good and beneficial_
each and every one
unto
each and every other.




The empty boat skimmed along quietly.
Water rippled and murmured at its bow.
A large bullfrog leaped
from off a lotus pad and
out of the way as the
boat nosed its way into
tall cattail reeds on the
sandy side of the stream.
-----------------------------------------


Circumstances change so constantly that every bit of
knowing we achieve opens up whole new fields of knowing to explore... :-)
It's no wonder we don't know/nobody knows, because in that
inconstant constancy
what we know changes so that we don't even
know what we do know,
and what we "do know" opens up so many new
"don't knows" to explore that we seem to be a steady stream of
"don't know" with tiny bubbles of "know" popping up then bursting..
Perhaps it is that we know/don't know instead of
don't know/nobody knows





If we could get some snow it'd be nice
We've only seen it once or thrice
And the kids they've never got a snow day from school_
Oh my goodness! If we'd get some snow it'd be so COOL!!!



If we could get some snow it'd be nice
We've only seen it once or thrice
And the kids they've never got a snow day from school_
Oh my goodness! If we'd get some snow it'd be so COOL!!!
____



This path wends its way through clouds;
Leaving not a trace, nay hardly even a gleam of green walls;
This path wends its way from one sky to another.

--

Today
Everything is running on according to
how things are arranged by nature.
Morning suns rise with winds and waves,
Sleeping ones sleep cuddled in caves,
...and like Li P'o has said,
"Peach blossoms and flowing
streams pass away withut a trace..."
Wonderful! This one moment!
Vast, distant, yet known only here. Now.



Today stopping to rest;
Thinking of those who've
vanished into the woods,
I look around past the lawn-grass growing green and see
that across another smaller expanse of brown stubbled
grass there is a path going off through the mysterious
woodlands into un-explored places.
Turning back behind where I stand, I see a big
bungalow house with piles of loose shingles stacked on top.
Wind blowing, strewn shingles all over the ground.
Not a thing that is beautiful to see anywhere around.
Should I go back to work on that old house?
Or should I walk barefoot across this expanse of
stubbly mown grass and continue on along to see
what's down that unexplored path?
_______________________________________-

Living in the physical world
TODAY
Moment to moment

The sky darkens;
The voices of stark strangers
Are indistinct sounds

The statue has almost disappeared into the
leaves and twigs have swallowed up the
form leaving mere suggestions of what once
was it stone or flesh and blood of humanity that
left traces of itself behind?

Color itself could not be better stated than
blue skies intermingled with sap from an old
birch tree fallen from it's high stature, all the
colors un-named taking their place in the
majesty of marching time ebbing and flowing
in, out, among and through stretches of
endless antiquites...



It's all about now
About being here now
White clouds drift across blue skies
Skyscrapers and brownstones
Shine in the sun and glow in the shade
Now looking there's mountains to see
Now not looking no mountains are there
Roll away the rocks letting fresh water flow
Watch big fish swim
Disappear.
(Into
Rocks.)
Sleep in deep woods where there's
listening to birds calling out loud to
one another, and to the land.
It's happening now.
Here.
As someone has worded a word:
Be Here Now.


all these moments together shine like
rays of sunshine
the earth is warmed. it rains and
the fruit trees bloom

Through all these days of sorrow
May there be many shining moments of
warmth, love and comfort that ease your
hearts until the day when once again your
pain is healed and flowers of joy fill the
garden of your life.



If there's no blue jays in Denmark,
No snakes in Ireland,
And no crocodiles in Calcutta,
Then let's all get together and find a few
Bluejays
Snakes
Crocodiles,
Then call up the UPS guy and fix those facts:_
Right away!


the door is wide open.
The air is fresh and cool
The earth itself, with all its
many diverse goings on is
very strange and mysterious to
me. I cannot see its every
intricate operation,
I can only see...
...
This.
.......................................

A plant unwanted
Is a weed.
Gardens left untended
Become weedy
---

Journey of Wayfarers
Riding a constantly moving earth
Thoughts and bodies fluctuating
from one moment to the next...
Changing from this or that now_
to whatever this is now.
-----

a form
subtle_
abstruse_
it's essence empty_
it is this that is




Our blue jays must've gone
to your house.
When did I last see one perching
on that one big fat branch of the
fig tree by the kitchen window__
_Weeks ago?
I don't know.

-----

In southern skies
blue turned gray
Weathers nature-flow
chased the blue away
Early this morning
before the sky came light,
The blue and gray mist
mixed it up with night.
Being sound asleep,
we missed the whole show,
But now that we're awake,
we go with the flow.
---------------------------------------

Spring listens to birds,
watches tender twigs hold onto bursting buds;
Spring carries no burdens of thought, it merely
flows gently onward into summer.
Summer sweats, fans, cools off in running streams,
hikes on up to the mountains where in
Autumn it climbs up to the highest peaks, it
carries along with it no burdensome thoughts,
but finds Winter on the highest peak of all,
and there in sleep with no thought at all, it
warms itself in the sun.

-----------------------------
In beams of swiftly passing sunlight
We practice zazen from early morning
Reflecting on this ephemeal life


_____________________________________

Tonight, on this night so fresh and cool,
I'm thinking of you, Ryokan.
I'm thinking of you on that
other night so long ago, when staff in
hand you walked through another gate.
Another gate that was this gate I am
walking through now.
Wisteria and ivy grew together along your
winding mountain path;
and it grows here along my winding garden path.
Birds back then sang quietly in their nests and a
monkey howled nearby, and you noticed them.
Birds quietly sing here too, and build their
nests all around, but I have seen only one
monkey and he was a neighbor's pet. I love to
hear the birds and to watch them twitter and fly
from twig to twig.
Ah...It's almost as if I can see you now,
old Ryokan, on that high peak where a
village appeared in the distance. Ah...
and you noticed that the old pines were
full of poems just as they are here tonight.
When you bent down for a drink of
pure spring water, I am there with you.
When you felt your gentle breeze,
and looked at the round moon hanging
overhead, I am there too.
And you are here with me, old Ryokan,
As I bend down to drink. I am there with
you as I feel this gentle breeze, and look at
this round moon hanging over my head.
And I can see you there now, standing by
a deserted building, pretending to be a
crane softly floating among the clouds.
Ah....wonder of wonders old Ryokan,
Tonight, on this night so fresh and cool,
we are together,
softly floating among the clouds.

-me and Ryokan

_____________________________________________________________--

Passion strong causes agony
Passion equal causes ecstasy

"Those who have strong passions are never
able to perceive the Way.

It is like stirring up clear water with your hands;
you may come wishing to find a reflection of your face,
but you'll never see clearly in disturbed waters.

A mind troubled and vexed with the passions is never
able to see the Way."

- Sutra of Forty Two Chapters
(from dailyzen.com, 7.10.2004)


When I first saw that verse I thought the same thing.
The word strong seems to be the one word that causes a
problem. Although I don't know if my understanding is
correct, my own understanding is all I have, and I
wonder if the verse would be better understood with an
adjective like "overpowering, rather than "strong" to
modify the noun passion.
It's possible that the writers understanding of the
word "strong" is different, too...

My passion is what drives me. I want to enjoy the ride.

It seems to me that one can be deeply
happy, joyful, and filled with ecstasy in a
passion that is neither strong nor weak, but
runs deep without overwhelming or taking
over control of the experiencer.
For example, I don't want to get so angry that
I fly off the handle and start hitting, throwing things,
and jumping on people, trying to choke them to
death, or stomping on the gas pedal and driving like
a maniac just because I'm so mad, but at the same
time I don't want to go all the way down the
scale to not caring and having no feelings at all.

My passion is what drives me. I want to enjoy the ride.

I want to drink in the deep pleasures of feeling the wind on
my face, my hair ruffling the breeze, my whole body drowning
in the ecstasy of moonlit love, my tongue tasting the taste of
summers fruits, the taste of winters ice, and the forever
changingness of spring and fall; and I want to drink in the
gorgeously beautiful landscape of life as it flows along through
the windows of my soul.

I don't want my passion to drive me to wrack and ruin!

It's like driving a car...My car's speedometer goes
up to 120 miles per hour, but I would soon wreck and
pile up in a heap of twisted metal disaster if that was
my speed! hahahaa
Ah yes!...the way I see it, Passion can be deep, fulfilling,
and joyous, without being strong and overwhelming.

Passion strong causes agony
Passion equal causes ecstasy

________________________________________________________________________________________________



-----------------------------------------------------------



Peppermint likes to grow in rich, damp soil and will thrive around edges of
ponds, creeks, lakes, etc. It also thrives in wet areas of garden and in
pots. Great for hanging basket planting, and for sunny indoor locations.


Peppermint tea

Add about 1/4 cup peppermint leaves per 1 cup boiling water,
remove from heat and let steep 5 to 10 minutes.

Let the tea steep for about 5 minutes.
Add sweetener of choice if desired.

The tea can be made from fresh leaves or dryed leaves.
_______________


The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.
-Einstein
http://www.famous-quotes-and-quotations.com/einstein-quotes.html



From childhood on,
women are told:
Don't get old.
They are told
Old is Over The Hill,
Old is ugly;
But that's only
for Women
Not for Men.
People think
As men get old
They look
More handsome
More distinguished,
More attractive;
But not women!
Oh no! People think
As Women get old,
OUCH! They get ugly.
Ugly!!!
Over The Hill
That's IT.
The end,
My friend.
For Women;
Not for men.




Morning, Sunshine!!



____________________________________________

Autumn colors turning
Raked up leaves burning.

Today I climbed up to the top
Of the old mulberry tree to see
The big blackwater river
Over yonder flowing free;

Then at sundown I heard a lark,
It kept on singing
'Til the moon came up at dark.
...
...
OR:
Today we climbed up to the top
Of the old mulberry tree to see
The big, coldwater creek flowing free;
Then at sundown we heard a lark,
It kept on singing 'til the
moon came up at dark.

... :-)





Full of joy in this early morning
Still feeling sleep in the eyes too;
Thinking to practice meditation mindfully
Even while making morning brew
Wondering wonders too,
like all about this beautiful earth,
and why so exquisite is being alone listening to the
sound of rain on the roof, and wonder of wonders
Being here and now at all?!



2006 HHS Poverty Guidelines
Persons in
Family or Household 48 Contiguous
States and D.C. Alaska Hawaii
1 $ 9,800 $12,250 $11,270
2 13,200 16,500 15,180
3 16,600 20,750 19,090
4 20,000 25,000 23,000
5 23,400 29,250 26,910
6 26,800 33,500 30,820
7 30,200 37,750 34,730
8 33,600 42,000 38,640
For each additional
person, add 3,400 4,250 3,910



----------------------------------
The hills and valleys are green
The ups and downs divine...
We carried small packs of food and water
slung loosely for comfort as we
walked not too fast and not too slow.
We expected to reach the top of old
grandfather mountain before nightfall.
Steep inclines, loose rocks, slipping,
sliding, bruised, skint knees, twisted
ankles, scratches.
An hour of miserable heat followed by
tooth chattering cold during a sudden
afternoon thunderstorm...
And that's not the half of it.
For the dis-
comforts, you know.
Not to mention the
Joys and Wonders we beheld all along
the way, like the pure bliss of the
shower we had under a waterfall at lunchtime,
the feasts of our hearts, souls, and eyes taking in
the vistas
of pure beauty,
the sounds, the smells,

the indescribable happiness of
knowing we were
actually in real life experiencing the experience of
Climbing to the Top of Old Grandfather Mountain!!!

----------------------------------------------

Not quite done yet...
here I am
In my cozy cocoon
waiting for a warm July night
to peek out around the hollyhock bush
at the full moon making shadows

My wings are almost ready
to unfold against the sky...
soon I'll be flittering all over creation
Soon.
Very soon..
I'll be a butterfly.
-//\\-


--------


TODAY
Sitting
Peace
Raining yellow, red brown,
and all hues between
Leaves falling all over fall
Green.
When I go out to the pasture to bring the cows back to
the barn, they don't want to leave until
The last ray of light leaves the western sky.

---------

I go to the store
and buy my ink:
clouds scraping the
roof of walmart
copy out a verse:
Songbirds sit on
billboards and
sing as the
world rolls on by-
turning on it's axis of
eternity.

--------------------------------

Today is roaming in
utter emptiness
mind meandering in
great nothingness
no such invention
as convention-
in this formless
soundless
utter emptiness
--______-

................_-

I looked up and saw you
when you came in through the door
my heart turned into something
like nothing ever known before
My whole body melted.
A burning fire of desire
swept over the whole room.
Every little movement suddenly became
an old silent film in slow motion,
a tragedy dramatized.
Deafening silence followed a
shattering sonic boom.
But when you spoke I turned away
as if I hadn't heard a word.
Time stood still.
It became absurd.
I could not speak.
My tongue was paralyzed..
My knees turned into jelly.
My fingers turned to thumbs.
My eyes turned into caverns
Yes, my whole life.....turned.
Around and away from you.
What else could you do?
You turned away too.
Now you're gone.
Forever.
What devilish demon struck me
thus and so
depriving me of my life and forcing me to go
Throughout all eternity empty and forlorn,
a ghost ship floating with
sails all tattered and torn, no life aboard,
tall mast stark and bare,
no other ship in the night
ever passing there .....
_...............-
.......The frail and thin old man shook his head again as if trying to
remember something.
He held up one shaky old hand for a moment then let it fall down beside him.
The cool silence was broken for a moment by a faint bubbling sound.
Then all was quiet again and nothing moved for ten minutes.
Suddenly the wind picked up and the old houseboat began gently
rocking to and fro...to and fro...to and fro....a seagull looked down and
screeched as it flew low over the deck then out over the salty waters of
the bayou looking for alewives.
____ ___ ___
-ovia

----------------------

Just Be!
Be Here Now
Is all there is to be it
Be to be is to be it
Rain or shine
Foul or fine
Sickness, health, better or worse
Poverty, wealth, no matter the purse
Just be!
Be Here Now

-----------------------
wrinkled little prune
delicious and sweet
no fruit no better
for a tasty little treat.



---------------------
Time runs away, escapes our grasp
Flies so fast it makes us gasp
Back and forth saving daylight's nougat
Old roman ruins wrote: "tempus fugit"
Their peculiar way to say, "time flies,"
Wonder how they say, "time never dies!?"

------------------------------------------------------
In the golden glow of this
Late Autumn afternoon,
Silence wraps itself sweetly
Around my heart.
I drink in the heartbreaking
Loveliness of once more
singing:

"Just a song at twilight,
When the lights are low,
And the flickering shadows,
Softly come and go..."

Walking in the forest glow
I walk along...oh so slow,
Walking with all my
Yesterdays,
I shall carry this with me-
This golden glow__
-Into all my
Tomorrows.


----------------------------
Watching asters bloom;
Soon to come
Deep, white snow.
These asters
Disappear completely.
Into the empty space
Beneath childrens' sleds
Snowmen,
Flying skis,
Dodging trees.

Many colors of
asters in bloom;
Soon to come
deep, white snow.
Asters go.
Completely go.
Into the empty
space
beneath childrens' sleds.
Snowmen,
Flying skis,
Dodging trees.
--------------------------------------

Asters.
Watching asters bloom;
Soon to come deep, white snow.
These asters will go. They will
disappear completely beneath
Childrens' sleds.
Snowmen,
Flying skis dodging trees,
Watching.
Asters.

Today is all scrunched up in a
big easy chair all warm and
cozy like a kitten on a
comfy cushion.
A day like no other day!
yet a day exactly like
all the other days...
Because it didn't only
just begin at wake-up time, ...
it melted into itself.
Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow:
All melting into one another:
One long, continuously
shining string of pearls
called "Today."
-------------------------------------------------
~today~~
softly gray and drippy
Leaking like the old green garden hose off the eaves.
An all day drizzle,
Falling down drip by drop onto the one wild goldenrod that
had the audacity to grow up beside the porch.
One golden goldenrod sleeping in the dark.
Will wake up with the morning sun another today.
9/12/2006
______________________________


It only took a silken scarf to
warm my shoulders in the cool of early day
a few steps around the yard
to bring sunbeams and birds back into
the place where they play
Clouds scatter all over the sky inviting rain to
gather and fall,
My heart melts to hear a mellow voice that
I recall,
And though an observer might not see so,
I feel my mind/body as clear as polished glass.
9/8/2006


__________________________
Today's tender Turnip Greens,
cooked along with their juicy Roots,
all chopped up together smither-een-ishly,
with three dashes of home-made,
not too hot,- but very interesting,
pepper sauce made back in 2001 by
the Gardener with the Orange Hair
Were Brussels Sprouts with crusty
Corn Bread.

(Crusty corn bread made the fantastic
food journey way, way, far more better than
just plain old very, very good.)
------------------------------------

-------------------------------------
Planning. Seeing visions.
Digging dirt
Poking little seeds snugly into
beds of warm earth
Sprinkle gentle sprinkles of
rain from the sky
Storms toss salads
The Good Earth and I together
Growing green tea.

----------
_Leaning over the kitchen sink
To see up and out skyward at
Moonrise.
That big old orange moon! I know it
will later grow smaller and whiter,
but now in its space nestled
amongst the old pine trees
limbs it's like a big
round plate full of something
delicious to look at and
to feel forlorn with
I droop my head
Sink into dreams
Then when I raise
my eyes again
That Splindid Moon has become a
beacon of white light, to guide me
through the night!
-------------------------------------

-------------------------------------
Will the new branches make a new tree, a different tree, or will it still be the old tree?
Or will the new branches disappear along with the old tree? What kind of tree is it?

_
_
That tree is so very beautiful__
there with it's bosom friends,
a fern, some moss,
and grassy growings too.
That tree lying there in
the edge of the lake.
Almost gone.
Refusing to die.
Nobody knows why.
It's new branches growing up to be
A lovely and limber new tree,
a new tree with it's roots searching
down deep_ nourished by
it's own long sleep.



--------------------------------------------------
...........................................................
With abundant rains,
The garden pond's
full to spilling over
Ground's steeped,
wetly glistening with
moon and stars;
Walk out with wonder
and wake forever
From long nights sleep.

.............................................................


Once upon a time ago,
When I was but a child
I asked my dearest grandamere
What is beyond the beyond...
"It's no different," she said.
"It's all the same," said she.




lltssip@nmrk7
dignity without cold aloofness...
___________________
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...................................




............................
"Great day in the morning!"

So beautiful
No tongue can tell it
So mysterious
Only No mind can know it.

........................................
Sporting a little gold sticker with a dutch name.
Oh my goodness, gracious me!
Look how big they are!
No wonder all the other
kids laugh and call my
shoes _______"boats!"
(All I need now is a pair of oars!)
Daddy stood by with a great big grin
He said he ordered size 9 but they sent size 10
he watched me as I so excitedly put my feet
first into one and then the other.
oooooohhh..ooo they feel so goood....
they support my arches so snug and when
I take steps, they gently rock me along,
making it easy to walk even though
they are bigger than my size, and daddy says
I'll grow into them, and when I'm a real
grown-up 'tater eater, they'll fit just right!








........................

~~TODAY~~a vast panarama--
In every direction

changing, changing, changing

There was a time
we thought we were moving

Now we think we are still

and everything else is moving

....................


The thing about it is that
it's all is in this very moment.
No use looking somewhere else,
it is here, it is now. –


...................................................
Only me in my wooden boat,
I listen to the flowing silence;
Windy breezes fill the sails full of
voices mingling with the stream.
After waking from a dream,
I live an everyday, ordinary life
way out beyond the beyond,
off by myself quietly.
My cup runneth over.

.........................................

You find a feather beside the trail,
In your eye it's like a fallen bird.
Loving beauty, you caress the colors.
After a while you release it to
the wind and watch it fly.

...........................................................
Put all the peoples' philosophy together
Into one big wonderfully woven sieve,
Shake it, Shake it,
Let 'm churn around
around and around
Until eventually
Perhaps,
Maybe
Hopefully
One idea that contains the ultimate, unadulterated
Truth
Will fall into your lap when you least expect it.

........................................

Vast windswept lands beside
a wild and stormy sea.
That's where nighttime dreams
might be said to be.
But far and away,
Where wooden wheels turn
there's fields of green
and woodland fern
Awake, asleep in dreams I find
turning blades turning
The windmills of my mind
....OR....
Vast windswept lands beside
a wild and stormy sea;
where nighttime dreams are
said to be.
Far and away,
where wooden blades turn
there's fields of green,
and queens lace fern.
Clear watered canals
freely flow
moving winds move
in ebb and flow.
Wherever I am
I always find
I'm free in the windmills
of my mind.
..........................................

"That's silly," said old man hinder-icks,
as he scratched his stubbly chin with one
of his long, strong, bony toes.
.....................................
Their temporary summer home
had a floor made of dirt, packed
so hard from the traffic of
walking back and forth,
that it was like stone,
They swept it with a broomsage whisk
About four or more feet in length.
After they built it,
they waited for
the roof to stop dropping
sticky stuff from it's
green pine thatching.
Then when all was ready,
They moved in.
-it smelled exceedingly good. :-)


..........................................
Today words lie buried
beneath piles of laundry.
Soap.
What a great discovery!

...................................
There's a rainforest in Idaho?
Well I be doggies, I didn't know
There was a rainforest
In Idaho!
Maybe that means there's also one
In Arizona and I'll be a son-uv-uh-gun,
That if Arizona really does have one
A rainforest you know
Like the one in Idaho
I'll be bound to go
Back to Arizona
From Idaho!

...........................................
The lizard on the limb
And the bird in the bush
told a little tale:

In old N'OrLeans
Way up high
On the 7th or 8th floor of a
Stoned-Gray Hotel
Drunk on Hurricanes from
Pat O'Brien's Pub.
They watched the gulf rise-
And Fall.
That's after, like on a long
string of mardi gras beads,
they'd attended one more
Masquerade Ball.
He the hero, shiny Sir Galahad
She the Hatter and quite mad
Neither knowing what they had
Both grew more glowingly glad
Until the whole bubble burst
And let in the wind
It was an ill wind.
For it blew nobody no good.
:-)

.......................................


Being:
Like smooth rivers
rippling by-
sometimes singing,
tumbling over
rocks around fallen trees,
peacefully swiftly, noisily, quietly,
full of all kinds of
happenings....
Flowing Freely

...or:
I am
~ ~ ~ ~ Like a river
Flowing..
Sometimes
rippling by-
sometimes singing,
tumbling over rocks
around fallen trees,
Flowing
swiftly,
slowly,
noisily,
quietly,
tumultously,
peacefully...
Flowing
Flowing
Flowing ~ ~ ~ ~
...........................

Went to the beach this morning
Got a tan in a candelabra sun
It was so surreal there this morning
My marshmallows melted and run.
No merry strawberry, mary, mary,
How does your garden grow?
Don't let your kitty cat carry your
pocket fulla sweetroll dough! :-)
...................................................

For many years, time to me was very eratic.
It either crept by endlessly slow,
Flew overhead like a jet plane, jumped
back and forth between here and there, or
Disappeared entirely.
Then all of a sudden it went into
some kind of Warp Zone.
It zoomed past so fast that no
human eye could focus on any form.
Now at last,... time means nothing more to
me than a recipe whose measurements can
be adjusted to taste.

..........................................
TODAY I might say
The very same thing as
Yesterday,
But that's okay I say
To say the very same thing
Again today.
....................................

Mind not set in stone
Not frozen in delusion like ice
Free flowing like water
Easy come, easy go
Mind like water free to flow.
.............................................
Today a day like no other day
odd
mysterious
still
Outside the open door
The world busily lives it's life
Inside the open door
The watcher watches


.......................................
Vapors rise up from the river
Looking for all the world like
hot steam rising from
pots on the stove.
A mockingbird sings to the
light of the midnight moon.
Mind clear.

...........................................

Once a gibbon,
Upon observing this elephant
Sitting like that
Couldn't help smiling as
He tipped his hat
"What a wonderful thing!"
Thought he with aplomb
As he reached in his pocket
And pulled out his comb,
"I must look my best," he
Thought to himself,
Reflected in a mirror on
The mantel shelf.
The golden elephant took
No notice of that
As through ages of Antiquity,
He elephantly sat.

............................................

She smiled a lot,
and laughed every day.
She could sing, too.
Yes that girl could really sing.
She was warm, friendly and
caring to us. She laughed, teased,
and sometimes talked jokingly-
but only with Certain People,-
and sometimes -
through the joy and
lightheartedness -
it was plain to see
that she cried inside.
Someone told me yesterday
That Robbie had gone away.
They said she went to
heaven and that now she
could walk, run, and even
jump up and down if she
wanted to.
I didn't know what to say,
When they called me yesterday,
So I went outside to sit a while.
I went outside
Not to cry inside.
I remembered how she looked;
Her smile;
How she was.
IS.
Robbie

........................................................
Rumble off in the distance of
Thunder.
A world wet with the rain that
fell in the night,
Glowing green
in the midst of spring
light suffusedly bright
with penetrating sun.
Delicious days
In stillness of unlimited activity
.......................................
Today a mystery began to
Unfold.
The wooden tub where
The roots were watered
With Miracle Grow
Is growing a miracle.

...............

TODAY the yellow rose,
reaching out to climb a tree,
was turned back by human hands.
The sky will wait
For the yellow rose
.............................................

4/14/'06
I'm standing in the back door looking.
What do I see?
Bright, deep-dark-red poinsettia leaves looking way more like flowers than the onion flowers standing tall all around; one close beside, almost touching.
three more near the house then there's the wild stuff popping up everywhere. Several tiny purple flowers growing on a tall, almost invisible stem, three yellow ones on a clump of sheepgrass, a white starlike one, and another almost green. Like me.

................................................

TODAY the cool morning is still.
Sounds melodious.
Windows open to the air, ears
open to space.
Oceans, Mountains, skies,
All together.
............................................

To be free of the entanglements and
Confusions of human affairs,
I sit wrapped in blankets of zen stillness,
On cushions of plumped up cotton.
Outside the window the setting sun makes
Earth into a golden garden of light, as the
Green of young and limber trees swing
And sway in the evening breeze.
.....................................................

I am cold today no I am hot
I am these things I sense, I've got
No not.
Yes and no come and go
high and low, Is is so, not so.
I am this that I am.
Whatever it is that I be.
Whatever it is that I am,
That it is that is me.

..........................................
Blending with yesterday,
TODAY
Blending with tomorrow,
TODAY
The wind blows.
Here I am
All that is is this
Dreamily listening to bees hum.
Don't know what day it is TODAY.
........................................................

Experiences come and go
Rivers of pain and pleasure
Forever flow

They keep telling us how to leave "suffering" and attain "happiness,"
We practice and practice and it seems that although nothing changes,
events, experiences still go on and on, the thing about experiences that we
had thought of before as "suffering" becomes less and less until
finally we don't see any part of any experience as suffering.
Suffering disappears.
How odd.
How mysterious!

"They" keep telling us how to leave
"suffering"
and attain
"happiness,"

We practice and practice and although
nothing changes,
although all kinds of events and
experiences,"good, bad, and indifferent,"
- still go on and on-
As we go on practicing, we see that
what we had thought of before as
"suffering"
becomes less and less until
finally we don't see any part of
any experience as suffering.
Suffering disappears.
How odd.
How mysterious!

Happiness in Being Here Now.... :-)

...............................................


sighting
sound of
wheels on tracks
consciousness
mantra
music
steady rhythm
hum of motor
clock ticking
gentle rain
quiet
mindful
life
peace
everywhere




Listen to the Sun
As it cast it's beams
Onto the darkside of the moon
And into unsewn seams...
The discovery of Myself
Is everywhere I look
In every page and every leaf
Of every flowing brook...
...........................................

From the Autumn Last:
"blue skies, recent days,
cool air growing crisper,
Winter chasing away summer, ..."
Remembering;
Yes indeed it did happen
Winter chased away summer,
Winter blew Frosty air across the
planks of the old gray porch,
caused all the summer flowers to
fade away, then after a long
sleep beneath piles of old pine cones,
Winter awoke as Spring

.............................................................

The birds have started to sing again! :-)
This morning a little wren made many
trips back and forth to a thing on the
porch, gathering up bits and pieces for
a nest.
It's Spring.
.......................................
At this moment,
Under this clear blue sky,
I can't think of anything
whatsoever more I need
Than This.

.................................................
Though I've traveled long and far,
I'm still where I was eons ago.
When I look back,
I can not see from where I started,
and the path ahead fades away invisible.
While another spring gathers itself
together outside my door,
I sort out seeds for planting.
.........................................
Today
While working beside
the wildwood trail,
Digging little bulb holes,
I pause to look up the Path at
The ARt of the Blue Sky.
Hair pinned back for cool
Breezes,
I hold my trowel loosely,
Let it fall from my hand;
I become still, absorbing it all,
.....................................................


The moon lights up
A thousand drops of dew with
light so bright it's like
the light of day.
A voice calling out falls on my
pillow of old dreams, waking me to
rise and walk unafraid out onto the deck and sit,
letting my feet dangle in
the warm gulf waters while
the moonlit mists wet my thin robe.
.......................................................
Today
Drops from the sky made
squishy mud between my toes.
Leaves fell from dead trees.
Like bits of paper they floated to the
ground.
I picked up one to read what it said.
it said
this is it

..................................
I sat on a city bench,
watching as daylight came to
turn off the streetlights.
I saw clouds of mist rise up from
out of a storm drain nearby, as the
shadows of night gave way to
shadows of sun.
I watched in silence.
A Forest of towering skyscrapers.
Body free, Mind without a care.

..................................................

Today sparkles:

Against the blue sky
All over a tall pine tree
On a little flower
Seen only by me...



A warm florida sun sparkles:
Against the blue sky
All over a tall pine tree,
and
On a little flower
Seen only by me...
.........................................
Early spring warblers
singing their hearts out,
A forest full of petals drifting down
to the ground on the last little
puffs of winter,
Wisteria winding it's way to the
very tiptop of the old loblolly pine.
And as the light through yon
Window breaks, I wonder:
Is it better to prune or not to prune?
That's the question!

...........................................


Today a warm breeze on my face
Rustling my hair.
Dogwood buds about to burst,
Wild violets peek from between
Last year's fallen leaves.
Beside the trail, there's one old
half-rotted stump of a
tree covered with green moss;
Forever changing, but always
there when I pass.
When it finally disappears into
Invisibility,
Will I still see it?



.................................
Keep eyes open or closed?
Neither.
Start by getting settled with eyes open,
then if desired, close them for a
minute or two, relaxing into position more,
Then automatically go partly open and
partly closed, aware of body and surroundings ,
but not focused on anything in particular...

.......................

They sipped their boiled coffee slowly
Then let the leavings drip in the clover
And with their fingers cupped around
They read their fortunes in the grounds.
..................................................

Frost's stars countlessly
congregated o'er
tumultous snow,
Mine follow me
everywhere I go;
They move, oh so slow,
flowering, showering twinkles
Brighter more at dawn when
rising from the deep, from the
velvet of midnight's dark sleep,
One star nearer by; brighter
by far,
That's the one
I call the sun ...

.....................................................
Flying through a white cloud, might've been a
thought: To say "heaven and earth," is like
saying, "ice and steam,"

.....................................................



This old river landing is what I love
Nobody ever comes around here
White clouds drift by all day
Croaking frogs call out from little lily ponds
I feel affection for all this so that
Everything's good around here
and in peaceful serenity I am happy.
Even though weathered moons change my
appearance, I'm still my same old self, not
changed any more than white clouds or
the croaks from a little green lily pond.
...
....................................................


...............................................
... I don't know...
But
I have a strong feeling deep within my
own self that I am alive and have always
been and will always be alive.
It doesn't seem to have anything to do with diferent
forms and shapes, but only to do with experiencing
experiences...
Somehow, within my deepest, deep self I just don't
sense any "befores" or "afters," but just a sort of
continuous now.

................................................
Porch roof and green trees
Shade my window
Squirrels and birds scurry,
Dart, flit and flicker,
Every time I look out there,
I see something different;
The pure cool clarity of
Constant Change is
bright and vivid.
...

...........................................

An old zen master from
eons ago, told me
to realize thusly that:
Living in the heights of
Mountains,
and the meadows of
Valleys below,
Body settled
Temporarily,
to let my mind
flow--
Told me too:
Whatever I do,
to try to do mindfully,
in quiet ease;
In spring to watch flocks of
robins fly by, and
in summer to work in my
little green growing garden,
When it's once again in
the fall time of the year,
to sit in contemplation of
the full harvest moon...
And the old zen master and I,
We like all the seasons,
Each in it's own particularly
sweet flavor.
................................
?Unenlightened,
In cave of
Ignorance;
Wrapped in
Craving,
Illusion
and
Other Afflictions...
.......................

?Nirvana is like the
proverbial garden of eden,
a state of being in which there
is no knowledge of good and evil.
.............................

Today, I sit on my
lowly little garden workstool
for an hour or more,
reaching all around,
weilding my trusty old
Trowel,
Then amble among
twigs and leaves...

......................................................
Today is clear since
All the mist blew off.
A clear stream rambles
it's way across a forest full of
towering tulip trees.
Moon's night light now fades into
Glittering sunshine...
...
............................................
Although Today the world is
white with frost,
The daffodils don't mind at all.
They might bow their heads a
little bit,
But then slowly they lift them up to
bask in the warm southern sun.
Daffodils light the Universe

..................................
If these upturned roots all alight
Reaching for moonbeams in the night
Are demons as you have them named
Then I think demons as some have claimed
Cannot be grotesquely ugly and all deformed
Nor could they be evil, nor devil-warmed...
NO!
Why these up-turned roots look
good enough to eat, in fact.
Go out there tonight please and break
off a few tender shoots,
Sprinkle them on your dinner salad,
AND SEE!
If they are indeed Demons of the Night
Or if Earth has made a Tasty Delight!
..........................................

I'm (also) thinking of a
sunny afternoon in
March.
Far away from
deathly blue, chilly
nightmares of
Long ago winters.
I'm thinking instead of a
Sunny
Afternoon
when at long last
I will be digging a
little hole in the dirt,
Planting
Fried Green Tomatoes.
...


...............
Today, an idea hatched
from out of a
clear blue sky,
But really the idea was
there all along.
Obeying karmic law,
it incubated 'til time to be born
into the warmth of sentient form.
...

...................................
This thoughtcloud passed by about believing:

"Don't believe in anything simply because
you see it with your own eyes, hear it with
your own ears, and so forth.
Do not believe in anything;
Simply BE."
..........................................
They went to sleep,
All those antiquitous
statues of long ago.
All but this one that
Slept the long sleep and is
now about to open it's
eyes once again,
This one has not
Forgotten the Gift...

......................................
Today the sleeping shirt hangs out on the line,
It's long, sleeves flapping whitely in the wind.
Boat's rocking too much for sleeping in.
Out there across the deck and over the
bay a bunch of dolphins are playing.
There's at least seventeen.
One shark tried to come in between,
But dolphins don't allow sharks in
their back yard to play.
So the shark got
chased away.
Think I'll plant a posy in
the big deck pot Today .
.......................
I awoke in my sleep
Not knowing I was not
Awake
Not knowing if a
dream was leading
me into life
Or if life was leading
me into a dream.
...
OR
~ ...after life...~
I awoke in my sleep
Not knowing I was not
Awake ~
Not knowing if
dreams were waking
me into life
Or if life was waking
me into dreams.
... ~
....................................
I think
My self is this that is Now.
This very experience,
Now.
What I am thinking, feeling
seeing with all my senses,
with all my being;
What I am
experiencing right now.
NOW. THIS. is my self...
..........................................
All day long the sun shines
into my tiny home,
A large Poinsettia Plant
Glowing redly, greenly and
brightly beside the glass door,
It's darks and lights perfectly
proportioned.
On the wall,
several old pictures painted
by long ago.
There's a little modern-day stove,
but nothing is cooking.
.........................................

.........................................
Flowers from the pear tree
all over the ground
Sunshine too bright for my eyes:
New spring greens come_
and so_
when blossoms are at their finest,
I'm likely to cling, bidding them stay,
only then to wise-up enough to say,
No,
They must go;
If not_
There never could be...

_Sweetly delicious pears in a pie!_
:-)


..........................................
I don't see
Cherry blossoms like
Ishikawa Jozan did, but
I see what he means because,...

With Visions of
Pine Needles all Over the Ground,
Sunshine Filling my eyes....
Leaves all raked up and piled into
the mulching bin along with
sycamore, oak, popcorn,
many grains of soil, and myriads of
things invisible to the eye;
Now that the earth is
swept clean by winter's
icy wind and boney bones feel
the pain of passing years,
I remember the pleasure of walking
barefoot on carpets of fallen
pine needles and smile with the
memory of the coming summer next.
...
................................
When I was a kid,
other kids said,
"Which would
you rather be:
Be Dead?,'
Or have seven
holes in your
head?!"...
If I close my eyes,
Or look cross-eyed,
I can see the tip of my nose.
But I think I think with a grin,
That I can't see my own chin.
Nor anything else that goes
With, above my ordinary nose,
So the only way I knows, I said
That I actually possess a thing called a head,
Is with my hands I've touched and fed
That thing full of holes I call my head!....
...........................
Today The tulips are
taller
and greener...
They won't wait 'til
March to bloom,
To them, this
southern cold is warm.
Tulips coming up so soon!
They probably know
How to go
Into spring in wintertime.
.........

A leaf fell to the ground
without a sound
No other sound
around
not a whisper of
wind in the trees
nor a birdsong
nor voices of people
Not even the drone of
an airplane in the sky
Neither of us made a sound
Not the leaf nor I
...
.......................

Little raindrops scurry, hurry,
in front of puffs of wind...
Chickadees go loop the loop
Across the yard again.
---------------------------------
There's a little deja vu;
Off in the distance
Outside the door
Something very familiar
Like a sound heard before
Could be a bird in a tree;
Not like a pinecone,
Or a pear broke free,
Nor thunder nor jet-
It's too melodious, and yet
No one knows for sure
What's outside the door
Nor if what's happening now
Did or did not happen before..
................................
Whatever comes to mind,
Is just a thought.
Let it go.
...
Open up Mind! Eyes! Ears!
And Skandas all!...
...
Let it come and let it go,
"go with the flow..."
...

..............................................
... I don't know...
But
I have a strong feeling deep within my
own self that I am alive and have always
been and will always be alive.
It doesn't seem to have anything to do with diferent
forms and shapes, but only to do with experiencing
experiences...
Somehow, within my deepest, deep self I just don't
sense any "befores" or "afters," but just a sort of
continuous now.

............................................
choose not to choose
think not to think
be to not be
Filled up to the brim with emptiness

.......................
This basket of peaches
I hold in my hand
Is only a picture.
I can't eat them.
.........................
From waking up in the morning
to falling asleep at night,
and yes, all through the night
all through the day
Breathe.
Be in the now.

Frost has fallen onto the roof
Winter brings a
sudden freeze.
Doors and windows,
Sealed up tight, open wide
It's cold, it's warm inside

Everyday life a stream

.............................
You are
being here now,
That's all.
Not thinking this or
that about anything.
Observing the
Experience
in which you find yourself...
...................................
Today is my day
This particular day was
made for me only.
Only for me.
So I will watch people work,
Go down to the pond and
Gaze at the reflections,
Look up into, and all around
The treetops,
Watch the sunshine turn all the tall
Pines' needles into glittering
Iciness,
And all day long today, I will
Follow my nose around...
Wherever my nose goes, I goes...
Today.



I'm in my own particular day,
One for me only.
Only for me.
So I will watch people work,
Go down to the pond and
Gaze at the reflections,
Look up, into, and all around
The treetops,
Watch the sunshine turn all the tall
Pines' needles into glittering
Iciness,
And all day long today, I will
Follow my nose around...
Wherever my nose goes, I goes...
Today.

------------------------------
Today in the middle of winter,
open windows invite a warm breeze to
come in from off the gulf over the
dunes, across the rivers,
through the woods, and
over the hills
into these open windows.

.....................
Times are when sitting meditation impossible and then
walking zazen saves the day.
Other times both sitting meditation and walking
meditation together one after the other...Wonderful!
Other times when neither sitting nor walking can do, and then
lying down zazen saves the day...
And ALL The time, morning, noon, night, sleeping, waking,
walking, sitting, eating, working, playing,
breathing in and out,
living zazen all the time is "the whole enchilada"... ! :-)-me
..............................
A white cat goes walking by,
and the sound of voices from the kitchen.
In this little garden no deer are ever seen;
No stream flowing across it, no wildness.
Nothing's here to divide the clouds,
nor to hold back the mists of early morning.
The white cat drinks from the birdbath.

........................................

there's a thin layer of
stillness
across the top of tiny pond;
wetly frozen, it reflects a
flock of robins flying in for
drinks and feather-ruffling baths;
There's a clean
mop hanging in the
sun on a post:
Reflecting clean floors.


--------------
Waka consists of 35 syllables
written in five lines
with the syllables distributed thus:
5:7:5:7:7.
-------------
My Own Writings:
-----------------
Today is ...constantly changing...
Forever impermanent...
Where we watch what is happening
watch the moon rise
watch the early morning sun grow hotter,
watch pleasure pain, life, death, eons of ages pass,
watch, see, experience...
...


.........................
Does
The purple people eater really
eat people?
Birds eat fish and fish eat each
other
Cats eat birds and rodents and
things.
Lions and tigers eat all kinds of other
animals.
Cows only eat grasses and grains and
such, but
they don't pay any attention if they're
eating bugs and other
little creatures along with it
Well,...Mr. Purple People
Eater....that's okay.
So if you do eat us, we eat them, they eat
each other and us..
otherwise
We'd all starve.
----------------------

Let me be still and my thoughts rest
Let my mind
........................

Today, an ordinary
conglomeration
standing beside a
window, I gaze at
a patch of onions.
Nothing is really
here, yet it's all
very plain to see.
Like my mind, it's
very clear and bright,
yet indescribable.

......................

The shapes are strings.
Very un-ordinarily ordinary
Strings. And those
CoLOrs!!
The colors and shapes
are out of this world.
They must've come from
some flag unfurled.
They must've been captured as
they traveled through space;
If you lie out in the sun,
you'll feel them on your face...

OR"
The shapes are strings.
Very un-ordinarily ordinary
Strings. And those
CoLOrs!!
Colors and shapes
Out of this world.
Must've come from
some flower unfurled.
Must've been captured as
they traveled through space;
If you lie out in the sun,
you'll feel them on your face...

...........................
Today the sky's a sieve,
holding clouds, the wind,
The blue
I see and hear what's in
the sky
Before it passes through
.....................................
by the ponded water
walking at the edge
Standing for long moments
staring at nothing.
All the world disappears while
at the same time filling the
senses to brimming over
with
Life.
Now my feet are wet.
............................
Mystery unwrapped reveals something ordinary.

.............................


...................................

I see as the most
unavoidable enterprise
In Life
As the experiencing of
Life itself,
with all it's myriads of
never-ending
experiencing of
experiences.

...............................
No matter where on earth I go,
under blue skies of what is so,
There's East and West and up and down
There's mountains, rivers, farm and town
But
No matter what
No matter where
I'm always here
When I'm there.
.....................................
I watched daylight come creeping
In from the darkest hour
It filled up all the corners with
Sunshine.
What will show up next?
A piece of toast.
A glass of juice.
A white cloud drifting past in
a sea of blue
Like thoughts in mind
just passing through...
...

There's the sound of Seagulls,
Surf lapping so lazily that for
sure it must be about to fall asleep.
Sand dunes, rustling sea oats,
Salty breezes stirring up feelings of
bliss...


,.................................


Today
The sky is so close we can
touch it, it's filled full of rain and
hidden behind tiny
droplets of mist.
Here we stand beside a
little creek that babbles
Crystal Clear.
We can plainly see it's
pebbles, it's every grain of
sand, and all the fallen
leaves where little fish later will
hide from frosty cold winter.

__________________-
This is another place of peace, serenity,
and blissful delight without end.
...
OR
TODAY
The sky is far away, filled full of rain and
hidden behind tiny droplets of mist.
Little creek babbles crystal clear, its
pebbles plain to see, it's every grain of sand,
myriads of fallen leaves settled to it's bed to be
used by little fish as covers.
Today is just a plain, ordinary day. Like any other day.
It's today.
We are here.
It is now.

...........................................
Today,
When we looked
out the window,
we saw a big,
colorful bird of a
kind unknown to us.
We watched the
delightfully beautiful
form eat from the
feeder, bathe in the
birdbath, then flutter
and fluff it's feathers
while perching on a
nearby limb.
After that the big,
beautiful bird flew
away.
...


...................

In the midst of all this sunshine,
I'm forever seeing snow
If none falls from the sky
I make it Myself.
Imaginarily.
If in the moonlight
I have too much of these
I shake it all off
Under evergreen trees.
For a while I leave off looking
Just to breathe,
And smell the breeze.

..........................................
I walk out along the wooden deck.
It's a walk that never ends. All
the days melt one into another
so that they are all just one
long day and that makes it
always today. Always now.
The pond that used to be by
the deck long since gone. It's
form is still there, but slowly,
moment by moment it
continues to change as tall
goldenrod stalks with bright
yellow blooms grow up in it's
center.
They sway and sigh with the wind,
but there's no wind blowing.
...
...
..................................
Green grass grows
where little snowflakes
melt into earth;
With every winter that comes
to bring back sleep,
another new spring comes
to bring back birth...
......................
Put on my
FlipFlops this morning to
Wade the ocean floor.
(Didn't want to step barefoot on a
StingRay, you know.)
Passed a big purple fish laying eggs in
an old oyster bed. I thought, "that old
fish wants to bite a worm."
Soon it will be gone, no more fish.
It will swim up to the surface around the
roots of a bunch of tupelo trees and
wait for a hapless dragonfly to land.
These old Purple fish find food among
roots while roots eat food from old
Purple Fish.
...
......................................
When the snow started to fall,
the mountains hid their faces.
White rocks grew larger and larger
as huge sky flakes fell gathering
together into Cold beds for
waterfalls to sleep on.
The once falling waters hang
glitteringly like glass over the
cliff face where clouds of
mist used to rise.
The narrow path once so clear
is now indistinct and growing more
invisible with each flake that falls.
As fat white shapes hug the waiting
limbs of empty pines, I stand amid
the wind and frost and listen to the
Silence.
...............
..............................
I wonder how it would be
To live in a place where
there is no tree.
Like in some places I see
On TV.
There's rocks and stones there,
And magnificent skies overhead,
There's rolling hills and mountains
and even rivers that's spring-fed,
There's space in all directions
as far as the eye can see,
But on that vast horizon,
I never see a tree.


..........................................
I closed my eyes and
thought:
"In a land beyond this beach
beyond these seas and skies
There's a beautiful island of being
And gardens of paradise."
I opened my eyes and
There it was!

______________.....................
We're getting more thankful by the day.
Winter's creeping in on top of Autumn's
Clouded up, misty, drippy, skies.
Our two gnarly old apple trees'
bare limbs have already told their
fallen leaves their last goodbyes.
...
We have a brand new glass-topped table this year,
to be thankful for,but the old metal fold-out one,
the old camp table that's older than we are will
still hold it's place of
Honor: Between two doors.
One for coming in,
One for going out.


.................................
Over the mountain,
More rolling clouds;
Wooly mammoths can not be
studied except in some old
dusty book.
Here, where no thoughts arise,
we built a brand-new cottage;
Perfect for the constancy of
Change.
...

......................................
What and where the cold sweaty brow
Drips onto my shirt.
Over the mountain, more rolling clouds;
Wooly mammoths can not
Be studied but in the dusty tome
Here we build a brand-new cottage;
Ready for change.

...................................
In ultimate solitude
Light penetrates all there is;
In the stillness of this
Different kind of light
There pervades a sense of
Awesome potentiality.
Filled with phenomenality in
The Here and Now,
There's no need of looking
Backward nor forward where
Everything is like a dream.

...................

Everyday life goes on. It's more beautiful in
a picture where you can see it in it's
perfection than in the nitty-gritty of how the
picture is made.
Look at the Palette of
A painter.
What a mess. But that's what made the
Beautiful picture.
.........................................
We walked and talked along the beach
Down by the water's edge, swishing our
bare feet along slowly with
seagulls and sandpipers. The air was misty,
cool, and refreshing. The Water was warm.
We walked and talked a
long time and when we tired,
We sat for a while and rested.
It was a good time
We were woven together
We watched the sky
And talked about the weather
It's nothing big
But also not small
That we left behind
Both body and mind
While walking on the beach.
Or:
We walked and talked along the beach
Down by the water's edge, swishing our
bare feet slowly along with
seagulls and sandpipers. The air was misty,
cool, and refreshing. The Water was warm.
We walked and talked a long time and when
we tired, we sat for a while and rested.

It was a good time.
We watched the sky,
the waves, the birds,
We felt the gentle wind, the
sun, the sand, the mist.
And we talked.

It's nothing big
But also not small
That we left behind
body and mind.

Emptiness was there
Along the beach
Walking and Talking
.................................

There's a story about a farmer who listened to
socrates and his students for a while then
thinking what they were doing was a waste of
time, he went off to plant his crops and work.
Is studying philosophy a waste of time?
Is time something that can be wasted.?
Is philosophy just a hobby?
Something only to study?
Or is it something to be lived,
an integral part of every
person's everyday life,
planting crops, working,
playing, just plain old
being wherever one is,
and doing whatever one is doing?...


.....................................

I think the farmer, Socrates and his students, and even the old yellow dog democrats sitting on the wooden bench down by the railroad station spouting off about how the republicans ain't nothing but a buncha rich root-hog-or-die greedy smut buckets, are all digging around for wisdom.



........................................
Kentucky Fried Chicken ain't half as good
As what was cooked by sister Kate,
She'd get up before sunup to dress a fryer
If she slept until light she'd say it was late,
Her biscuits and gravy would melt in your mouth
Being cooked with a Ben Franklin stove
But them good old days done long since gone
Along with them chickens we love
Now Old Colonel Sanders is all we got
His secret recipe formula's okay
But my mouth water's with every thought
Of the chicken we ate in Kate's hayday!


..................................
This whole thing called,
"So what is thought?" in
My thought:
Thought is like a boat in a stream
If left alone unsteered it'll
drift this way, that way, perhaps
get stuck like a fly in a bowl of cream,
But in the boat, there's
Invisible mind
To take the wheel
and leave behind
All thoughts that harm
in a foamy wake
While the ship of dreams
May fully take:
A course of thinking this
Or not thinking that
At will.
Letting thoughts flow
Letting thoughts go
So
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream....
:-)

...........................................

This whole thing called,
"So what is thought?"
Boils down to what's in
the lines at the end.
The part about the
chicken and the egg.
That old mystery.
Carried on by history.
Which came first, they say?
Some say one,
Was the one
That Begun.
Some say the other
Was the mother
Of every brother,
But Hey!
Wait a minute!
Can't you see?
(It's plain to me.)
That:
Neither the chicken nor the egg came first.
The chicken and the egg had no beginning
The chicken and the egg has no end

.....................................
VEry StRaNge is eternity's stone
Combined with what's come and gone
Antiquity keeps going on and on
The colors are so very odd
In that particular combination
Like mixing together
Cotton candy with,
Marble.
Yes marble, not granite.
Christmas cookies too.
Along with a little superglue.
All in all, so pleasingly odd,
yet so very autumnal that
it's remindfully reminescent of
Old Robert Frost, who said,
"A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not,
by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down."
...

.....................................
My happiness, lives at
home here with me.
We build a small fire for
these soggy wet days of
autumn rain.
That's where we roast nuts,
boil thick broths to drink,
and cook delicious things
on skewers. We sit
crosslegged so close to
the flames that we can
feel the heat on our face.
We gaze dreamily at
the flickering flames.
We watch hot embers glow.
Yesterday we learned how to know
That tomorrow will surely be snow!
It's true!
Our skis stand in the corner ready to go,
That's how we know it is so!
................



......................
In plain sight
Right out there where
everybody could see it
In the middle of the path
On top of the fallen pine needles
A treasure.
I picked it up,
held it in my hand for
a while, cuddling it warmly up
to my chest.
Then holding up my arms
High up toward the sky
I opened up my hands
And let it go free and fly.
I don't know where I am.
If I'm on the way
or at home.
...
.................................

That's all it is.
Just one little bare-limbed tree
Growing out of a rock wall
What's it's roots holding onto?
Down there under the dream
Is there somewhere down there
A flowing underground stream?
Like a poet's crucifix;
Melt the grass and leaves
Back into the little brown church
That used to sing,
"Bringing in the Sheaves."
...
........................................
FlipFlops on the floor
Outside steaming hot glass doors
Sing Verdi loudly
This whole place, with
nothing left out
has been put under the
Spotlight.
Totally transformed,
It's like a sampler box of
Candy.
No sharp corners.
Now my hour has come.
Lately I spoke to throngs
But when they went away
With nothing left to say
I sat in blissful solitude all alone.
Why should I think to stay,
Away from where I've gone?
Nature has folded me
Into a shape dissolved by
A vision. My form has
Melted into one essence.
Now into a new invisible dawn
With a few faltering steps
I will, as they say, Carry On.
...

....................................

So!
I know...I know!
I know I'm too young to know
What is responsibility and worthiness
Day and night all I do is play,
Stay awake when it's time to sleep
Sleep when it's time to work,
Laugh my silly head off when it's time to weep,
But
Also 'tis so:
I'm all set to Go!
....
Into the future,
in an endless year;
And being a nobody,
with nothing to fear.
_______________________
The sky is full of whatever the sky is
Full of.
It stretches out as far as it
Stretches out.
I see whatever it is I see.
A clearwater creek follows
my footsteps wherever they go.
A little house stands in the clouds.
This is where I live.
Blissful peace without end.

.....................................
Sleeping ducks and geese dreaming
Air is still,
Earth is quiet
Wispy fog-clouds of mist from rivers rise
to blend with floating white I-clouds...
It's daybreak

........................................
Last night looked pitch dark
Not a light anywhere to be seen,
It was really dark.
But not as dark as dark could be,
That's for sure.
Here we are in one continuous day
Watching dawn lighten the sky,
Seeing Sunsets lay light by
Looking at bats and owls on the fly
It's all in one continuous day
Rolling,rolling,rolling. All the way
So watching days break
Or nights fall the same
All together one frame.


OR:
Last night looked pitch dark
Not a light anywhere to be seen,
It was really dark.
But not as dark as dark could be,
In bottomless caverns under the sea.
Now that night's are gone away
Revolving in time, a continuous day.
Watching dawns lighten the sky,
Seeing Sunsets lay light by
Looking at bats and owls on the fly
It's all in one continuous day-

Rolling,rolling,rolling.
days break
nights fall:
all the same
in a frame.
.........................................

Waking up early in darkness before dawn
Feeling ones way around to tea
So as not to miss one little moment of
Watching daylight come sneakily
around the corners of the house through
the big oak tree
All of a sudden blazing sun's rays
are streaking light through to the ground,
We laugh and wonder how
We made it up until now
Throughout eons and eons
of the darkness of night.
We laugh with delight,
For waking up early.
sef

.....................................
daybreak creep
into sleep
who could sleep?
with that hot ball of fire
searing their brain
with shooting flashes of
get up and go!
...........................................
I wanted to watch day break
So I sat under an old oak tree
from full darkness to full light
But I did'nt see day break.
It happened so slowly, so subtly,
I did not see any one
moment
In which I could say:
See! This is it!
......................................


The robins have flown away from
the back yard,
And at ten o'clock the last squirrel disappeared.
We wait together, the back yard and me,
For what will show up next.
.............................................
Through a bank of tall pines,
and over the rail of our barge
vapor rolls out from the river in
fragrant white clouds;
I went ashore early for
a wake-up walk along the
path of Sages.
Beyond this floating camp,
Will I ever understand
The roots and flavor of time?
...


..............................................
Into the thin light of a winter sky
Drama deepened into cold vaults of darkness
The sun went down leaving
Towering tulip trees grieving.
They moaned as frigid winds chimed
The silver spoon bell.
They cried with every leaf
that turned loose and fell.
Now with all their whole entire
summer wardrobe on the ground
Around their feet,
They tighten their roots' grasp into
The earth, raise their limbs up high
And wait for surcease from the sky.
Shivering in the night
They pull up blankets of white
Cover themselves from
Head to toe.
With Snow.
And Sleep.
..........................................

Today invisible wind entered the door,
Pushed through all this emptiness to
the wall.
Dust draped chairs formed sheets of whiteClouds of it rose up in between shafts of light
What was that moving? Was it the wind?
Or was it traces of thought left behind?
This empty little room full of stuff
Has little green buds growing out of it's
new wallpaper.
...

Where to find good zen teacher?
Be Ever
And always
Very mindfully aware
And you'll find good ones
Everywhere.
..............................................
The same grape vines still
hang gracefully down from the old oak tree,
mixing their bright yellow and green
together as they fade into fall.
The garden, left untended for so long,
has become a forest of clipped off
wild plums, mimosa, tall weeds, and
yard grass all competing for space.
Ghosts of celestial blue cranes still swoop in
every morning to catch the bluegilled fish in the
pond which has now become a sunken garden.
Beautiful.
Everything's beautiful.
Immortal.
Like old Han Shan, whose green cliffs,
twisted vines, precipitous slopes, and mountain
fruits still inspire mumbling minds today.

.....................................
Whole yard mowed all over
From corner to corner,
Side to side, one end to other.
No smell better
Than smell of fresh cut grass,
and
No weeds better than
weeds pulled out
of dirt packed hard.

..............................
PERMANENCE is changing
The world is bulging out through the walls of
Mind;
Some's real, some's illusion, some's nothing and
some's everything. Which is most real and why
are they always BOTH WAYS?

............................
Today the teacher clammed up.
Mouth shut. Would not answer my question.
Magnificently illulminated with gleaming fire, the
teacher told me to ring the chimes and listen to
what they would say to me.
In my brownstone hut,
The falling night got colder and colder.
A chilled pigeon settled on the ledge outside my window.
I huddled by the radiator, curtains pulled around my
shivering body.
I had no chimes to ring.
My question goes as yet unanswered.
...
................................

A closer look into the glass
Probably taken by few
And I think it was only ten people who took
this morning's sweet wakeup bath of dew.
I didn't.
I waited until it fell in showers of sun.
But I did look into the glass.
Because I expected to see humptydumpty there!

................................

We found a place out of the sun
A shadow cool and pale
A place to sleep throughout the day
To wait for night's sweet sail
When our ship of dreams will find our port
Will come and carry us away
Fast and far we'll fly through space
'til we find a place we want to stay.
...


how good it would feel at
about sometime o'clock
To slide off the rock
into the creek
seven days a week
...for refreshing renewal....
................................

After morning sun burns through blue fog,
New clouds come floating in.
A light night rain left wet spots around
in places not shaded by trees,
And water hyacinths sway as an
Alligator glides across the bayou.
Breathing in air fresh and clean,
A being is happy in this place.
...

..................................
Our house is out in a field,
clean, vast and gleaming.
It's a field of wheat,
one of those time honored golden
fields of grain. Every tall and limber stalk of
it letting sunshing glow from
each and every one of their husky little tophats.
Amid vast landscapes,
living beings speed by on
interstate highways looking out at
waving fields of grain whizzing by,
dotted with what looks from the viewpoint of the
people in the speeding car like tiny doll-sized
farmhouses with a few tall trees clustered
around each one, which are:
The only trees to be seen.
In any direction,
not even so much as
a hedgerow growing between
Nothing but a clean, vast gleam.
Fields of gold.
How amazing that we can't polish it into
brightly shining mirrors. If so, we could look
into them unawakened and watch wisdom cover
over our foolishness.
.......................

Today my mind is like those clusters of
brightly colored leaves out there that look like flowers but are not.
I earnestly think in my my mind I can see sea oats growing tall on the sugar white dunes down there on the beach.
I see the waves are still.
No sandpipers racing,
No sand crabs trailing tracks,
No people walking.
Nothing but shimmering moonlight left over from midnight last, blending in with the soft, moist rising of morning sun across a rainbow mirror of water quiet and still.
There they are together
Moon and Sun,
in the eternal sky
...

............................................

As a not quite full moon falls
down through roots of upturned pines,
Another night slips downriver
Another day has just begun.
ONE of my wishes is to run.
Not to be withheld but that I
should fly,
Fearless over open land.
.................................

White tipped branches framed by
Blue mountains,
Surrounded by a thousand
Hills and valleys,
This pine tree stands under the stars;
Clouds drift silently by.

............................

Sunlight streams in through
wide open windows onto the kitchen sink.
Shadows, taking the form of hands,
plunge down into sparkling water,
where one small juice glass waits to be washed.

..............................

The thing is, (I see)

birth and death as Components of Life,
not presence and absence of life....

... that Life is full of death and birth,
therefore dying young or
dying old does not end life,
and being born does not begin life,
...sort of like the Ocean... the tide
comes in and the tide goes out, but
the ocean is still the ocean...

Whle sailing the ocean deep,
I swing on my hammock and sleep,
Swinging and swaying I sing seafaring songs
About diving for treasures with Davy Jones! :-)







"...Actually, birth is the
first step toward dying,
and death is the renewal of life..."
Message 12


...therefore, it looks to me like death would not
be any more of an escape from suffering
than being born would be...

...So!
If being born and dying does not
begin and end life,

Then how can we live life without suffering?

Can we end suffering by realizing and practicing the:
Four Noble Truths And Eightfold Path?

.....................................

words
in
Letters dropped on the ground
Buried in erosion and never found
Vanish into the wooded hills as
Rains wash down through the pines, then
later they fall hushed as big flakes of snow.
Silent words burrow deeper into long lost pages.
No one remembers them nor does anyone know
where they came from or where they go.

..................................

The air is different.
It's like living way back before
history started getting
all tangled up in itself,
but the voice of the
valley meadowlark has only
One tune.
Rain is nowhere in sight, but
the butterfly's wings are
wet with it's possibility, and
though my fingers have pounced on
these keys 'til I'm an old hag,
I have yet to astonish the
likes of Abe or Ralph.
.............................

Among Sea Oats,
Sit on top of a sand dune,
watch daylight come to
distinguish earth and sea,
Waves become still at the
last minute and there's
nothing left but moonlight in
the endless sky.

.....................................


Most things of the past we don't
remember and what's to be far out
into the future is beyond imagination.
Time ever moving,
Coming and going,
Time, like a river,
Keep on flowing.
All we know is the moment we're in.
Autumn colors turning
Raked up leaves burning.
...............................

Today I climbed up to the top
Of the old mulberry tree
To see the big blackwater river
Over yonder flowing free;
The shadows grew long and faded,
Then at sundown I heard a lark,
It kept on singing in the meadow
'Til the moon came up at dark.
...

His sparrow needed the river
It also needed the sky;
My starling needed my care
'til he grew strong enough to fly.
Then like the sparrow to the river
My starling I let to the sky
For though they sing to my ear,
They also must sing to my eye.
...

Today, clear water and grass turning brown
are out there making me thoughtful
When I walk under the trees.
When I am on my way to dip water from
the stream, these things are clear in my mind.
Everywhere I look, I see impermanence;
Mother Nature keeps reminding me so that
I can't forget it, and that's how she keeps
urging me on to seek enlightenment, which
some say I should and some say not,
so I just follow my own path.

............

Well, of course, of course! And
isn't it strange?
That all that fraud and force comes
from one source,
(Not from blackberry vines to be sure.)
...Did ALL the wisdom go to non-sentients?
Or was there a little left over for us?
"Well of course, of course!" grumbled old
Colonel Cottonpatch sitting in the shade,
"Don't we know how to make lemonade?"

.................................

beside a small fire of deadfall sticks
gathered from the woods nearby
life being contrary
to basic intentions
of the ordinary
remain here separate
and apart from the
mainstream of human existence
until
in contemplation
mind like flames of fire
light up too.

............................

deeper and deeper and deeper
into the forest green
where light beams shimmer through
lighting things unseen
little creatures there
cuddle up beneath the shrubs
others root around
searching out bugs and grubs
I follow a well worn path
into the shadows there
walking soft and quiet
through the steamy air
deeper and deeper and deeper
into the wood I go
absorbed in what I see
compared with what I know
I soon forget the sunshine
of meadows left behind
while walking in the light
I discover in my mind

So many things forgotten,
a long list of these
might include
windflowers turning
in winter breeze
or how frosty windows melt
when yellow birds sing a tune
long before morning suns
stretch themselves into noon.
Tonight at dark ducks will
come out of
the pond and shake;
They'll go to bed and
go to sleep,
but our burning bulbs will
keep us wide awake.
...............................................

There was never mystery?
Well, it's all a mystery to me!
I look at the flowers,
Listen to the birds in the bowers,
Spend many wonderful hours;
Summers hot and Winters cold
Seeing and hearing the stories they've told
But here I am to this very day,
Still not knowing what it is they say!
...

Impermanence rules,
but where I am cannot change;
No matter what comes and goes
I'm always here and it's always now-
I've heard sounds and silence,
seen seclusions and crowds of people-
visited green glens in forests,
painted white stones with steeple;
ate, slept, sung and played,
fussed, laughed, worked- and
yes indeed, through it all- impermanence has
ruled the day,
But where I am cannot change
I can never stray
Impermanence flows
and everyone knows
Impermanence in
Here and Now.

........................

Cat was drinking from birdbath
When a leaf happened to fall
But in silence he kept on drinking
To the tune of a bluejay's call:
a screeching sound of warning
to all the other birds around
that a cat was at the birdbath
drinking water without a sound.
...............................

A trillion eyes winking
Hauntingly deeper in darkness
into earthly estates
sacred wings flew
where once upon time
green shadows grew
green groves evolving to
rainbow colors between
lovely things not seen
keen delight
faint purple air
stretches into shining heaven there
imaginary images rising to birth
there to inspire a virgin earth
where pathways up mountains
'tween boulders sprung
mong'st flowering thorns and vines they hung
those glittering lights in morning wet
mysterious secrets not solved yet
........................

Today, I am but what?
Universal stuff same as stars,
moons, sticks, this keyboard,
that table over there and so forth?
Or all that and more?
More what?
I don't know,
but here I am.
Now.
That's all.
And that's a big plenty.
..........................

Under wide open skies,
Carrying my hoe, I walk
slowly out to the garden.
Tree critters, and ground critters too,
surprised to see me, scatter and
disappear into the woods.
I stop for a minute and invite them back,
then stand my hoe beside a fence post and
hang my hat from it's top.
The critters begin to play again and
I throw a rock into the pond.
Two, three, then five more, just to
hear that statisfying little splash.
I feel a delicious breeze brush against
my face with every northward turn .
Playing around like this, in the garden and
by the pond I forget all about my
hoe, my hat, the weeds and the flowers.
I laugh and wonder:
"why such foolishness as
to hoe down weeds when in
only a matter of a few weeks they
will crumble and freeze into
many layers of frost?"
A patch of goldenrod gives me a
bright yellow smile and a deep bow;
"Why indeed?" they answer.

``````````````````````````````

........................
At the mere touch of a raindrop
One sunbeam can begin flowering.
Mountains rise up tall and towering.
Flash!
Lightening strikes sideways up high
at tip-top of craggy peaks scraping the sky.
Listen a while to hidden birds chatter
And wonder if anything,
what does it all matter?

...........................
How amazing, how amazing!
Hard to comprehend purple people,
Much less eating them.
Yuk!
Purple People simply cannot
Be good or even fit to eat.
But if you want to eat purple,
Good old cabbage can't be beat.
....................
It is time to use a word or two,
Close the books.
Mark the page.
Begin the art of speaking.
But trees and fields too must participate;
Their words will open the brushwood gate.

........................
Not only Sego, but
a fleeting dream
So why name flowers,
Why name a name?
.........................
I am all alone in the house,
and yet, didn't I just see
Your Voice?
And what's that I hear?
Sunlight's streaming your
music in through the
kitchen windows.
...................

Wet clouds fall in fine drops
swirling in the wind;
Eaves drip vagrant pools onto
black flagstones below.
Brightly glowing,
the moon without a word,
rises above the brushwood gate.
...........................
it's already tomorrow.
Over there.
Other places still yesterday.
And though it's summer over there,
It's already winter over here.
So what is today?
Forever?
...

All of a sudden in the
middle of the night,
I am wide awake;
Nothing will do but to
rise, walk around and
look out the windows.
The world outside is
white with dew,
dark with shadows.
The sky looks red, but it
is only city lights,
reflected off low clouds.
...................................

I come from out of nowhere into
nothing, forming, unforming.
Marvelously, mindfully, emptily
flowing through moment after
moment after moment of
Sentient Being.

.................................

I was not expecting to see yellow flowers,
But it looks like autumn is in full swing
And Goldenrods are blooming everywhere.


Gallberry bushes with stalks straight and hard
Growing in the woods behind the yard;
Make wonderful brooms for sweeping clean the dirt
In the yard with the dirt packed hard.

.........................

Back behind the house
In the middle of the yard
The yard with the dirt packed hard
Was a hole in the dirt
Back behind the house
In the yard with the dirt packed hard.
In the hole was a well and
at night in the hole
At the bottom of the bottomless well
A bright moon reflected for a little while
At the bottom of the bottomless well.


.......................

Today, when we came upon
blooming flowers, someone said,
"What comes this way will stay,"
Then an old hermit appeared
with a handful of weeds and
we saw what we had not
seen before.
A small hut secluded a little
way beyond, hidden from
view in a thick growth of
trees and underbrush.
The old hermit had pulled the
weeds from a little patch of
turnips beside his hut.

........................

Last night,
When I closed the outside curtain,
I couldn't help but see Mars
Above the tree tops toward
The southern sky shining
Brighter and bigger
Than ever seen before.
I, from one spot rooted,
flew across
vast millions of miles;
Climbed skyward on cloud steps
all the way up and over the wall
of the dark midnight sky, peeked
over to the other side and saw the
Morning Sun.
It's brightness on my face woke me up.
..........................

All over the yard
Dirt packed hard
Not one green blade growing
Not one petunia
Nor daffodil
Old dry fountain not flowing

Pigs under the house.
Chickens all over
Hound dog barking
at a cat named clover.

All over the yard
Dirt packed hard

Swept clean and clear
with a gallberry broom
For the newly wed dance
Of the bride and the groom.
.....................



Standing on top of a building
The wind blowing icy cold.
Fog blowing in off the ocean
This is no place to rest.
The sun's gone down,
Street lights coming on.
Slowly I turn before I go,
Rusty wheels start grinding;
Turning the windmill of my mind.

..........................

Read what's written in the sand
by crisp tan colored sea oats and
dry grass,
Look at the pictures painted
on the landscape by the wind
and the rain,
Watch dramas unfold around
storm swirled mountain gorges
and raging rivers
But be at peace knowing
That even tho it's snowing
Green grass is growing.

...........................
All is quiet
In this still world
With the door shut
Only candles light
The night.
......................
It's nice to
suddenly find self far out
on prairies that stretch from
horizon to horizon in every
direction; not a tree in sight.
A flat and level land empty of all
and everything
that resembles forests,
mountains,
and flowing springs;
Surrounded by endless rows
of long green sprouts,
fresh new promises
of bread.
A flat, treeless table from
which they can borrow
Surcease from sorrow
Stave gnawing dread of
Starvation.
Out on the plains where there
are no trees,
The sky turned upside down
Overhead
Like a big blue china bowl.
.........................
Not depending on plowed fields
Nor city streets,
Forests,
Lakes,
Nor any star a way out yonder.
Daily life goes on.
.........................
LOve.
That's why the study of Philosophy.
For the love of wisdom!
The ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting,
the development of insight.
Common sense.
These are all characteristics of wisdom, and as Henry David Thoreau said,
“It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”


...........................
I ate yesterday with a couple of philosophers:
I enjoyed the taste of every dish that I liked
but to one thing that was served,
I turned up my nose and wouldn't taste.
It was Hominy.
I had tasted that stuff before, way back in
days gone by, and nothing except the very
verge of starvation could make me eat it
again.
Could those philosophers but once understand,
that I loved to know their thoughts of
A philosophical twist and heartily wished
them every good luck in all their expositions,
yet, as for my own life and thought,
I had not a word to say.
Well, And what, one might ask does
turning up noses at corn soaked in
watery ashes
have to do with voicing philosophy?
.....................................

Grandaddy don't-do-much
told me:

"I put my roots down
in the water of this creek.
Mare Branch is it's
neighborhood name.
It's been trickling along here
along it's meandering way
ever since before I came.
I wash my feet in it daily in
the summer when I'm hot;
I boil my shirts in it weekly
In a big black washday pot.
It's plain to see I'm happy
With my roots in the
water like this, and I think
I'm living in heaven
right here on the edge of bliss..."


Today Moments flow one into another;
Order constantly out of chaos forming
Forms visible to these eyes always
new, fresh;
All the old flowing and fading into
All the new, constantly appearing into
this moment.

...........................
Past, present and future,
An unsculpted rock
On display.
Rock strewn deserts,
rocky mountains.
hard rock hotels
jazz
rock, rock, rock and roll
Elvis was
A cool drink of water
who
Probably died of thirst.
..........................
There's nothing here but
sky, earth, and falling waters.
A patch of green grass around to
make a home.
Needing only the
moon for a lamp at night.
A fallen log for a seat among
flowers and shrubs;
Birds and squirrels for neighbors.
The joys of solitary contemplation
can carry one beyond the beyond.
.......................................
Thermometers plunge
Way down below freezing points
Windy streets howling
Around every cold corner
Pigeons on ledges sleeping
Up in air floating
Feathers flying all alone
Leaving pigeons bare
On cold, gray ledges sleeping
One last long,cold dreamless sleep

..........................................

Along the high banks
On the other side of the river,
Yellow leaves turning red.
Tall pines whisper.
I sit still. Empty headed.
Not a word to say.
Not a thought to think.
I pour out a cup of tea,
creamy, sweet, and hot
Then tip it up and drink.
.......................

In the midst of noise
and confusion,
There's a pool of utmost quiet.
Orchestras of hodgepodge and
mixtures of mishmash come
together in concert,
The sound of music ripples the
pool as if there was a
wind blowing in through
Open Windows.
......................................

Our selves were washed and rinsed
of their pain and drained of guile;
A magnificent night it was in the
bright moonlight;
We were reluctant to let it go,
but at last the dawn overtook us
and we settled into the sun
using the earth for a pillow and
white floating clouds for cover.

..............
Full of joy in this
early morning
Still feeling sleep in the eyes too;
Thinking to practice zazen mindfully
Even while making morning brew
Wondering wonders too,
like why do we love the earth so much,
and why so exquisite is
being alone listening to the
sound of rain on the roof,
and wonder of wonders
Being here and now at all?!
...
..........................................

The ice box was empty
But for one grape
So we went out on the bog
Across the swamps behind the barn
To see if we could find something to eat;
Not afraid to wade up to our hair
Because we'd done it many times before
and being born and raised out there,
We would swim when the water got too deep
then wade out on sandbars to sleep
That's after we found something to eat;
Hickory nuts and berries,
chinquapins too,
A few roots and herbs
made a mighty good stew
But that's not all. We did meet the moon,
and we heard a thin tinkling fall that made
falling drops look like pearls when they
splashed.

..................................

Here I sit.
on an old rotten log
although it's night time
along these wet
dark forest trails.
As beautiful as anything ever was,
they are not hidden nor withered
nor do they run up and down the road.
No.
It is their pleasure to stay
and talk to me silently with no words
when I watch clouds and birds.
The sky is silver now with foggy dew
but never desolate nor dejected, just
dripping wet, that's all. Don't mistake
those wet drops for tears.
Eternal earths never fade nor fail
nor let their flowers fall nor pale
Although one comes along and sees
that they have no eye for these.
Here I sit in calm for no reason nor rhyme
Not that I learned yesterday to know
anything yet about who, why or how
But I do love these new Autumn days
in Early Spring, and
in vain I try to tell them so
one more time before I go.
................................

Two little ruffians playing in the yard
One hit the other a little too hard
"WHAT TIME IS IT?" he yelled at
the top of his voice
The other had to answer,
he had not a choice,
"TIME ALL DOGS WERE DEAD! AIN'T YOU
GLAD YOU'RE A PUPPY?!!!" he yelled back
as loud as he could,
Then he picked up an axe
and chopped up some wood
Their mama came out with a
frown on her face
Said, "You boys better behave
Daddy's saying Grace,
Now come on in,
supper's on the board,
Oh lordy have mercy,
Oh Lordy, Lord, Lord!!!!"
................................
Miss Annie Feline
For a while we gave her
The run of the house.
She had her own little door.
Up high.
She could come and go
As she pleased.
Any time.
Day or night.
But that turned out to be unbearable
to the humans who lived in the house;
For she brought in a snake,
a bird, some rats,
and a poor little half-dead mouse.
Not to mention all the leaves and twigs
and dirt all over the floor
And that wouldn't do, you see,
So she lost her own little door.
Then she couldn't come and go
As she pleased to any more.
We made her a bed on the porch
Away from wind and shower
A place she ruled like a queen
With absolute feline power
And she was just as happy
To have her outside home
As long as she was free
To wander and hunt and roam,
She lived a happy life
Many long years and free
She made a great example
Of what a cat's life could be
But oddly enough many years later,
In the wee hours of the morning
She came to the door in the dark
Just as the day was dawning;
One last time she came to the door
and begged to be let in
But we sleepily refused her pleas
Not knowing it was the end
It's a painful thing to remember
And we wish we'd only known
So we could've helped her and said goodbye
When our little cat Annie went home.

.......................................

When it's beautiful
Ugliness changes it's tone
Darkness is all gone
When beauty floods the ugly
The artist is successful
.....................

Stretched out full length; Half asleep
Under a wide open sky full of clouds
Listening to lazy waves surf the sand.
Feeling good
On a big beach towel
.......................................

Conceived in the mind;
A thought of a
Good idea
We'll plant flowers beside the barn
Sprinkle and spray
Every other day,
With Miracle Grow!
....................

What a pity there's no moon
This evening,
Yet I do love this waterfall,
Seeing how it pours clean
Over it's soft ledge;
It has it's own gleam
As if the moon were not hiding,
And it ripples in it's pool as if there
was a wind sounding through
the pines.

..................................

When an acorn falls
Oak tree limbs above your head
Giving up good fruit
Letting go a fresh brown shell
Full of planks for cabin floors


Brown blades of sunburnt grasses all over the ground.
Sunset filling up all the western windows with gold.
All the blooms of summer will fade and fall
At the height of their beauty I came to call
They bloomed as hard as they could just for me.
And I strained and strived and tried to see.
But how much did I miss? I can't help but wonder,
During the times I slept were some plowed under?
I don't doubt it.
But they're probably still out there waiting to be found
Under those brown blades of grass all over the ground.

................................


Philosophy is like an ancient old sycamore tree. It has many branches, deep roots, and myriads of twigs and leaves. It is forever shedding it's old leaves, twigs and limbs, renewing itself constantly but never losing it's body, it's main branches and it's roots. No matter how many times you cut it down, it will sprout right back out again with even more and thicker branches, limbs, twigs, and leaves than ever before.
Philosophy has many uses, such as being like a road map to help travelers find their way along the road of life, being like a tool to help make life feel like it is well worth living, and a safe haven of rest for the times when events make life hard to bear. One of the best of all uses for it is to sit in it's cool shade on a hot summer day with a group of good friends and enjoy thinking, talking, wondering, and arguing about it in a stimulating and friendly way.

...........................................

The lake looks green
and mountains all around in
flames of yellow and red.
This little brook streams under
thick trees into clear minds,
Here, then suddenly gone
Nothing ever stays the same.
...
Matter and mind
Interwoven
Consciousness
Conceived
.............................

Today on my morning rounds
I met a sunrise between
me and my stone wall.
Yesterday,
The wind almost tore my
shirt from off my body,
My one fragmented palm tree
looked so forlorn that it was
painful to see.
But today,
I see a green bud in
the center of the top.

...............................

What is work?
Everything is work!
Just the fact of getting born
and living through life is work.
And a big part of that work involves
Cleaning Things
Including ourselves.
It's impossible for anyone of any
age, of any gender to get away from work.
Everything is work: crawling, walking, running,
bathing, breathing, washing, eating, dressing,
shopping, reading, writing, cooking, playing, building, digging, learning, planting,
Everything!
It's everywhere, and as much a part of
being as breathing.
There's no such thing as work time and off time; there's just all time-period. Morning,
noon, night, eons in, eons out... work goes
on.
We are born to work, and it can be very difficult work at that.
But also sometimes lots of fun and
very pleasurable. We take great satisfaction
in our work.

...................................
Another word was spoken
It was only a little word
But a very, very
Important one
It brought
Happiness
Yes.
.........................

There's a river out there:
Blackwater,
Sugar white sandbars
around every bend,
swirling eddies,
playful otters.
If it's there you went,
You'll never be back!
You'll stand there on
the banks of that river,
roots will grow out from
the bottom of both your feet,
and there you'll be;
Forever.
Rootsinwater.
...................................

Vast and spacious,
Filled with skies and waters,
Floated into another moonlit
night.
The same color as wide
fields without any boundary,
disappearing into emptiness;
Directionless,
Gloryiciously one and only one
Seamless Space
No edges to fall off of.

..........................
The earth I see is lush and verdant,
made of the same material as I,
It is beautiful, it's sky ever-changing,
It's grasses of many colors growing all by
themselves with no help from me,
Breezes arrive at any and all hours of the
day, the night, and in all seasons, sweetening
the air into cool wafts of good stuff to breathe.
All these wonders swallow up my tiny hut.
..............................................
Breezes arrive at any and all hours of the
day, the night, and in all seasons, sweetening
the air into cool wafts of soft stuff to breathe.
All these wonders swallow me whole.

..............................................


Today the center of emptiness,
radiates silence as myriads of
things blossom, thrive then
return from whence they came:
their root;
Life being life
The constant.
............

DeeP Philosophy,
A bottomless well
Where no shadows fall
No tongue can tell
No old oaken bucket
Can draw up it's drinks
Nor fathom the deep thoughts
Deep Philosophy thinks!
.......................................
One last look at summer
Before it merges into autumn
coloring out spaces
For what's coming;
A big white moon
shining down making silver
puddles of pouring rain,
Five red leaves found
hiding between blades
of green grass.
Summer in my garden now
at last begins to fade.............
...............................

Granny's glasses were on her eyes
When what to her great surprise
She couldn't find her glasses high or low
"Granny's gone looney Now ain't it so
Shouted Granny's sister Amy Jo
She's finally gone senile, cousin Flo
Her glasses went where she can't go!
Granny your glasses are on your eyes,
NO! shouted granny jumping up and down
Them's the dark blue ones, I want the brown!
........................
Last night looked pitch dark
Not a light anywhere to be seen,
It was really dark.
But not as dark as dark could be,
That's for sure.
Here we are in one continuous day
Watching dawn lighten the sky,
Seeing Sunsets lay light by
Looking at bats and owls on the fly
It's all in one continuous day
Rolling,rolling,rolling. All the way
So watching days break
Or nights fall the same
They're all ltogether in one Big Frame.
...................................


At the end of the road
Suddenly aware that
This is the end of the road.
Slam on brakes.
Stop.
Get out of the car.
Walk the rest of the way
....................................
Those skies out there,
Sprinkled with earth
Have no limits as
Mind
Here I am walking a path
In the midst of experiencing:
All that comes,
Favorable and unfavorable,
Moment to moment.


...Mists release the treetops
and wake the colors of fall;
Where is the popping cattail pod
that wafts upon the wind?
I grab my hoe intending
to clean around five rows of turnips,
then find a single blooming goldenrod
woven into the garden fence.

...........................
...
It's quiet, a special charm fills the air.
No better resting place than this.
The sun breaks though the morning fog;
Trees sprinkle shadows on the ground;
While I sit here looking at the landscape of my mind,
A little brown wren starts singing my song.



..........................................

When the round white light of the east
Rose up from behind the sea
I took a walk with scattered clouds
To a place that's away from the world
Only empty minds can find it
Between wispy curtains of green
and rising fog from flowing rivers

...............................

In the middle of town,
people all over the place
I have found a small oasis.
I am enclosed by natural walls where the
green leafy gates are shut even in daytime.
I feel as though I were on top of a
Tall Mountain
Here.
In the middle of town.
Now.

..........................




............................................

Although NWFlorida's autumn's do not come in blazes of glory,
and they are scattered through the end of summer like
sprinkles of sparkling diamonds on black velvet,
still they are Fantastically Beautiful just the same! :-)
And here's a goldenrod spray
from beside the garden steps
scanned on the scanner
then AdobePhoto helps
to make the background more
than what it was before
when I plucked it from it's place
outside the backyard door. :-)



Out on the flatlands
where distance makes a haze into
the face of the lowering sun,
I watch the wind wave fields of wheat.
Under a cluster of trees I see a house where
farmers and birds go home to roost.
Sundown comes to the silent scene and
erases the line between earth and sky,
then my heart feels calm as I watch a full
harvest moon rise up from the east.


................................

Each and every autumn,
those who live farther north
than I,
have great expectations,
and they should,
because each autumn brings
beautiful bright colors to them;
But wait!
Can those who live tropically
not have great expectations too!?


.....................................
Teeny-weeny boot
no surprise
that it can't be seen by
ordinary eyes.
What if granny without her specs
used it to write to her younger son Rex;
Oh Perish the thought!
What calamity be wrought,
if the teeny-weeny boot be brought to naught!
.......................................

Here, in a place that floats in space,
We live with wide open skies;
Quietly through the trees, our own river
Streams beside our little home.
When we are tired, we rest indoors.
Here, along with our plants and flowers,
Herbs, veggies, ferns, little beds of moss,
Rocks, trees, and the shining moon,
We flourish,
Each in our own earthen niche.
.............................


Start all over again
In another new bag of skin
Make more good memories then
Could be you'll see what might have been
.....................
In this moment,
I stand here beside this stream
now so clear that it looks invisible.
I can see straight to the bottom;
Every detail, every color, every
little rock, root and leaf, each and
every drop pure and sparkling, not a
cloud of mud to be seen.
In this moment.


Today
This room is full of a bright eastern sun.
Outside an orange schoolbus, and on the
highway traffic flowing in streams along
it's concrete river.


The earth watches it's birds fly
Through it's white cloud filled sky,
In the fields
the crops are growing
On top of the mountain
it's started snowing,
No frost on the roof,
though autumn's nigh gone
Just a blue morning fog
being swallowed by the sun.



Today I'm refreshed by
the cool dampness of dawn.
I can hear a waterfall and see
green leaves moving by the window.
Although I am still sleepy,
Not fully awake,
I'm beginning to see the
real world.


..............


The sun, barely above the horizon
hides itself behind invisible clouds of rain.
Sudden big drops make heavy splashes on
the bleached gray boards of the deck.
In fine mist the earth starts to breathe a cool breeze.
An old sunken garden that used to be a pond
gives rise to seven tall goldenrods blooming brightly
yellow in the midst of a stand of taro green.
Light through lashes flows into my deep sleep,
while unformed shapes appear.
Standing in the doorway to the back porch, drowsy,
it's too early in the morning for me to think.
I see one lavender morning glory blossom by the post,
and I smile in my dream...



Last week at school we had a
flip-flop day: Everybody was told
to wear flip-flops to school that
day and everybody did.
We flip-flopped basketball, flip-flopped
the track, and we even flip-flopped a
prom dance practice.
It was a Riot!
Somebody video taped shots of all
that and ended with a shot of walking
feet during class-change at the end of
second period. They announced on the
p.a. system. Told everyone to
stop talking and keep walking for sixty seconds.
Then at last period they called Assembly and
showed the video tape to the whole school.
Cool!
You shoulda been there.

..........................................

From childhood on,
women are told:
Don't get old.
They are told
Old is Over The Hill,
Old is ugly;
But that's only
for Women
Not for Men.
People think
As men get old
They look
More handsome
More distinguished,
More attractive;
But not women!
Oh no! People think
As Women get old,
OUCH! They get ugly.
Ugly!!!
Over The Hill
That's IT.
The end,
My friend.
For Women;
Not for men.

...........................................................................

i wasn't raised on dragons
or faires or little green elves
I was raised on dried-up peanuts,
beans and peas,
with cane syrup on the shelves,
there's no room for
dragons and knights
Or kings wielding swords
no... not in the picture at all!
I did hear tales of
things called boogers,
wampus cats, and painters-
(which is what we called black panthers screaming like women)
but never did i ever see or hear one! Ever.

......................................................................
I wandered with the river
Near and Far and Wide
But settled under a willow
Where frogs and gators abide..

Now I shall weave my world
A basket full of stars
To swing jauntily from my arm
As I dodge the speeding cars
They whiz by on the freeway
Where I daily make my rounds
Doctoring up the patients
And charging by the pounds
One that weighs a hundred
Will pay with willow reeds
And one who weighs an ounce,
I'll toss into the weeds!

................................................................

taking refuge in words,
as petals open
to catch moonbeams ...
splash! the oar dips into the water
ripples run out.
sweat drops from brow
beans get picked
corn gets ground
bread gets made
trees make shade

.........................................

:-)...like:
spritely sandpipers
darting back and forth to eat
from lapping wavelets

......................................

The old cow grazes
Out in the pasture all day
She's making butter.

................................................


this is it. today
after this there's nothing more
this is all there is

.......................................


...what joy!... how peaceful...:-)
bliss...:-) how can it be so true!...?...
~ ...eternity now...~
.
....................................



In the Winds of March
And those at sea
The Mistiness of dawn
Cries out to me
Something invisible
That I don't see
In the wind
I feel in me.
....................................................

This little hut nestled deeply into the
trees and bushes of the forest greeting
each morning the rise of the sun, each
night the moon, the stars, the clouds
this little hut nestled deeply into the
earth
is my
Refuge...

...........................................


look in the albums
start anywhere
but be very careful; you might get
lost in there!
a while ago i was going to look
for only a minute or two
and the next thing i knew
the kitchen clock struck two
i'd missed my date
we were to meet at one
hurry, hurry, gotta run!

.....................................

The mountains stand unmoving just the way they are
all day they let the clouds roll out and roll back in
even though red dust is countless layers deep
not a single speck reaches my thatched hut

............................
I do mistake fair sun for shadow
To study as I pass
flickring shadows inside a looking glass
the pool collected within the rain
when next I pass here again
I am crept in favour to return
Shine out fair sun, fair moon
that I may see my shadow soon.
No! Nothing more than garments fine
blowing in the wind upon a line.
-sef



.............................

Although you don't see me
And I don't see you,
If you see words I type
And if I see words you type
With these words
Between us
We see traces of one another
We touch like the shadows of
Sunlight dappling the ground beneath
The old oak tree out on the
Brick Patio in the middle of the day when
Breezes play among it's leaves

...............................

Today I ate figs from off a tree
while looking up at a cardinal who
was eating figs with me
I looked at him
He looked at me
We had a lunch together of
figs on a tree.

.....................


along the way
I listen to the music of
wind strumming the strings of
pine needles towering above
my head along the winding road;
My feet delight in the feeling of
the leafy autumn carpet
soft from midight's rain.

.............................

Like a passing cloud
This lifetime has drifted past
It's shadow moves on

..............................


Whitehot stars with blue edges
Morning glory blossoms
Appear at dawn
delicate. glorious.

..........................


...summer fun's waiting for dreamer's dreams
hazy, lazy days, flowing streams
spooning n' sparkin'
amusement parkin'
winding rivers, shoals, 'n beaches
sweet, juicy, drippy, plums n' peaches
lover's lane at moonrise, sighs...for...
...hands to hold, lips to kiss
salad days sigh in bliss..
papa's 'n mama's spreading cloth
on tables out back with garden moth
roses, robins, honeysuckle vines
slamming screen doors, hammock reclines
watermelons, ice cream carosel play
green grass mowed only today to a
carpet-lawn thick and springy cool,
for tumbling kids and dogs that drool...
Ah...
Summer...! Good ol' Summertime!!!

............................


A Starling.
I found him on the ground
featherless, no beak as yet,
Head almost nothing more than
a wide opening with yellow edges,
a receptacle for food.
Fallen from very high up
where I could not reach,
No choice but that I must
be the mom..
I did.
Daily I picked berries, made
soft milk-soaked bread, kept a
clean nest-basket on the kitchen
table for my little Pete.
Who soon was riding around on top
of my head and my shoulder, which
of course I had to cover with a cloth,
a rag protector from poop...
(or else I might soon
look like a statue in a park.)
Three Weeks. How could so little time
make so much difference?
Little Pete took to looking longingly
out the kitchen window,
And I...One day,...
knowing what he wanted, needed,
promised him:
"Next time we go out to the bird feeder,
if you hop off my shoulder, over to the food
and feed yourself, then I will step back a step."
He hopped over to the feeder, ate a few bites,
hopped back over to the edge. Looked at me,
Looked off into the distant sky to the North.
I stepped back a step.
He looked at me one last time,
Then he SOARED!
Higher and higher, farther and farther,
the last my eyes saw of him was a tiny dot.
My heart hurt so bad. My eyes burned, then
tears fell so much like a flood that I could
not see.
That was
My little Dark Bird.
My little Starling.
Pete.

...........................


He's not dead, I know he's not.
See. I can see his chest. Rising and falling.
Rising and falling.
Stop staring at me and stop asking me
Why I'm not crying.
Why should I cry?
Why are all these people here anyway,
and why are they all dressed up today.
And why's mama just sitting there
not ever moving or anything, just staring
out across the fields.
What's wrong with her.
They didn't listen to me. I couldn't make
them hear me with my silent pleading
they put him in that pine box lined with
white satin cloth on the inside and
covered on the outside with some kind
of heavy black cloth.
But why. He was not dead.
I saw him breatheing.
His chest was rising and falling.
Rising and falling.
I wouldn't go look again. It took a long
dusty trip on the back of that flatbed truck
Hauling him off
To the little brown church at last
To cry and sing sad songs downcast
Everybody hugging.
But not me. I would not take a part
In throwing clods of dirt into that hole
Onto that box covered in black cloth
Where my poor little heart could not see
Nothing but my daddy being taken from me.
Not dead.
No.
..................................


flower
stone
shadow
here and gone.
winter wind
cold,
tiny baby
hermit old
mountains, skies,
birds on wing
tat tvam asi
everything.

.............................


Sunshiny showers
Butterflies
flowers
yellow
pink
tender green
fluttering and flying
drenching and drying
march marching out today

.......................................

field of fluffy white stuff
gathering laboring hands
you'd think would be
oppressing
but no!
the opposite prevailed!
Pick and play and laugh and joke
and sing old songs you knew
up and down row by row
before you know
you're through!
--
........................................


all night long,
wondering what to do,
morning brings light of day
with answer:
do nothing at all.
......................................

Being old and bent is good
__how well I can now see the
ground...
covered with myriad beauties
leaves of all colors and sizes
and shapes
feel my feet
bog down into their softness...
un-distracted by infinite spaces
up and out there...
........................................

Eternity explodes the universe
fragmenting bursts of lightning bolts
melting every grain of sand
boiling in the hot blazing sun.

................................................
The chicken sees
the rose blooms
the wind blows gently
through open rooms
The wise old owl
watches the moon
rise up over the mountain
to the call of the loon
I in my hut
here by the trail
hear the lone wolf's
lonely wail.
...............................................
I Am Young And Green
The future's ahead for years and years and years;
I'm still young and green, still wet behind the ears
In my salad days, blood running hot;
But not too young to have a secret plot;
A plan for living my life the best way I can
and not to be ruled by State or by Man.
Some people tell me this, and some tell me that;
And some throw pure nonsense out of their hat.
I listen and look for learning the truth;
There's little bits of it everywhere! Behold! Forsooth!
I will find my way through life's snarly jungle,
untangling the knots as I stagger and stumble;
Then when I finally reach my destination
I'll be at the beginning of a new creation.

...
2. To the Young And Green:
The future's ahead for years and years and years;
You're still young and green, still wet behind the ears
In your salad days, blood running hot;
But not too young to have a secret plot;
A plan for living your life the best way you can
and not to be ruled by State or by Man.
Some people tell you this, and some tell you that;
And some throw pure nonsense out of their hat.
Listen and look for learning the truth;
There's little bits of it everywhere!
Behold! Forsooth!
You'll find your way through life's snarly jungle,
untangling the knots as you stagger and stumble;
Then when you finally reach your destination
You'll be at the beginning of a new creation.
.............................................
You went out hunting
for a christmas tree?
HA!!!
If it's in the woods you went
You'll never be back!
You'll fall in love with the
great outdoors,
put down roots beside a tall pine,
and stand there dropping
leaves
all over the ground
and sighing in the breeze
Until the cows come home!

...........................................

At twilight's glow
Sweet-smelling honeysuckle fills the air
Finally when stars are twinkling
before the hour grows late
We leave our little garden
and close the brushwood gate.

.........................................

The brushwood gate
tied together with limber willow limbs
fragile
yet strong and beautiful

..........................................

The Turtle
in a dream
the cucumber vines
grew from the turtle in the center
when the old cucumbers began to rot away
the turtle scurried away carrying the roots
of the main vine to grow again in another place
to make another vine
leaving behind the young cucumbers
which were thriving on the offshoots
of the main vine.
The turtle always scurries away again

................................................

hammer a nail
parse a word
coo a baby
be a bird
always never
forever flows forever.

...................................................


salt of the earth
sprinkled in pots cooking:
Something good,
something delicious
nutritious
daily bread

................................................

sweaty, sticky, gritty sand
shaky legs on ladder
precariously balanced
not used to this sort of thing.
Real orange pickers
laugh at the Novice
until one day
the ladder and the novice
become one.

............................................

Little chick's dream
to fly like a bird
but what a thought!
"absolutely absurd!"
unless.....

...........................................


baby chick break shell
come out all wet and stringy
learn how to walk quick

.........................................

Now there came a time of begging,
a time of no strength left, no way to
stay and no way to go,
an incorrrigble situation.
"Be off," a silent voice cried!
"Be off from the doorway, .Be off!
..get up then, go and find out for yourself!"
that was the time when
learning began in earnest
...........................................

graceful willow
swing and sway all day,
bare feet
rooted in fishy waters
teasing bluegill.
breezes come and go
playing absentmindedly
with long tresses of willow trees
all day swing and sway
self reflecting in still waters
..................................

the door is open
stay open all summer long
wind blow oak leaves in
..........................................

doors, gates, narrow rocky trails
tall cliffs
..openings
bend of road...
adventure.
walking, winding, pushing, pulling
thick, tangled-up jumble of undergrowth...
stop.
listen.
tinkle of a tiny waterfall somewhere.
Oh Joyful Sound!
Thirst shall soon be slaked
.......................................

open door
shining sun
land of promise
just begun
path of infinity
tao
be here now.
.................................

When I look at my reflection in the pond a fish leaps into the air nearby, splashes the water and I disappear. Then when the water becomes still, there I am again!

...................................

an infinite point
potential for anything
always free to be

......................................
dining out
beneath the canopy of heaven
little haven,
lovely sphere
narrower than ocean wider than line
all streams pour into mind

............................................

Grass is green
though by moonlight seen
with fair delight as lily white
When daisies disappear
and violets
shyly hang their head,
secret desires thus
begin to burn a blushing red.

..............................


Aye, but in the end My friend,
those dashing, swashbuckler,
hirsute captains of stormy seas
standing tall and proud upon the decks of pirated ships-
(whilst vanquished maidens strewn hither and yon
wash up like limp seaweed upon jagged rocky reefs)
aye, but like rats they desert the ship.
But wait! Do these leaky eyes deceive?
What is that glittering thing they perceive?
Breaking out upon the bleak and desolate night,
in yonder tower's sweeping light?
Could it be?
Aye, tis hope there waiting in the wings
she never flags nor fails.
she never weeps nor wails,
She merely sets her sails
for new and strange and foreign shores
abandoning old forgotten lores
Sail on! Sail on! Miss Universe! Sail on!

.........................................
People of the way,
are as you say,
acting and reacting to whatever comes,
vibrating eternally with universal hums.

.........................................
i A...! Hi J...! What do you want to do? I don't know! What do you want to do? I knew you were going to say that....we could go walk on the logs??...or jump on the trampoline.I have already done those. We could ask if we can go walking. Walking around what? The trail or walking around the block. Okay!! Which do you want to do? I want to walk around the block. Me too!

..............................................
Sparkling pool...
deep, crystal clear,
clean-
inviting all:
darklit depths;
Lighting lamps
of freshness in
minds grown jaded green:
blossoming out into
new worlds
as yet unseen.

.....................................

the river runs past
all waters pour into it
from many places
..........................................

Once upon a time
when troubles were thick as snow
I learned a little thing to do that
would help me to let them go,
I found an old clay pot,
one that had a lid,
one in whose empty-ness
my troubles could be hid.
I'd jot them down on bits of paper
and fold them up and away,
then let the emptiness in the pot
take care of them all day;
And when they'd come into my mind
I'd think, "they're being solved,
by the empty-ness in the pot
they're being resolved."
And sure enough, it never failed
and still it works today,
The empty-ness in the pot
takes all my cares away.

...................................

Walk in through the arbor
into the green room
out back behind the shop.
A sprawling magnolia touches the ground
where the mimosa and the honeysuckle
also can be found
by the natural back fence
made of brushwood piled up high
blueberries, youpons, pears and pawpaw.
A patch of green grass
carpets the outdoor room;
We walk in through the arbor
by the ginger lily bloom
we sit upon a bench
and climb to mountain peaks
we find the little pearl
that every seeker seeks.
.
.................................


among tendrils and curls
little insects unseen
live and move and have their being
among walls of green

..........................................

Moonlight of gentle night
Blazing sun of noonday's light
mine is a jungle
birds and little animals
keep me company
.........................................

outdoor rooms. all linked together and actually used as kitchens, bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, etc. and in the corner of one have a small dug-out type closed-in room equipped efficiently for sleeping, living etc, when necessary for short periods of time.
...................................
A bubbling fountain behind a swale
tiny mountains
outdoor room of rarified air,
blushing coxcomb over there-
goldenrod growing wild in patches;
giving a glimpse of ragged thatches.
..........................................
Flowers are welcome
From one heart to another
Roots reach into earth

...................................

Little bees buzz around
above the waters of the pond
White waterlilies float
sweetly moving
with wind blown ripples
all thoughts and disturbances
forgotten
OR
Small yellow-brown bees
buzzing hungrily around
Edge of pond waters
White waterlilies
Float sweetly with wind ripples...

all thoughts and disturbances forgotten...
..................................


huge stone one day
make a place to sit and muse
not there tomorrow
................................
High up on a hill
Mountain ridges roll away
Eagle Rock Aerie
....................................

There are no rocks
in everglade swamp
only rocks of sunbaked mud
turtles sit sunning on clumps
till someone's canoe
comes swishing by
...............................................
a thousand forgotten words
weary legs
money in purse
worse
solemn talk
partly guess z
slightest folly
on the aisle zz
blushing walk
weary thy hearer
abrupt
searching of wounds
kissing of petals
chapt hands
weeping tears
mortal
nature
aware
wood
faint
shallow rivers
falls
a thousand forgotten
-//\\-





weary legs money in purse look you,
who does so, solemn talk I partly guess
a thousand that i have forgotten
slightest folly heartily weary thy
hearer broke from company abrupt
searching of wounds kissing of petals
chapt hands weeping tears mortal in
nature "art ware of" break shins
upon fashion growing stale yond stump in
wood faint nigh on to death wretched
but smiling way back
from skint knees and elbows
to Blissful Glee.


Words

words drip from the lips of man
and fall into the rivers of other's...
they all flow together...
tumbling and frothing
over rock and rill
down the mountainsides
and across the endless plains
on and on they wend their way
on and on into the sea,
where upon the waves
of the knowledge of man
they rock back and forth...
meaninglessly
--sef




Words Never Lost

Some ears can hear those words
As they rocket through their space
Sometimes they call out names
from another unknown place

Sometimes they merely hum
like bumble bees in July
or snoring sounds in forests
or fluttering wings that fly

But words are never lost
Like thoughts they are eternal
The good the bad the indifferent
The angelic and the infernal

So the oceans full of words
The Seas of roaring sounds
Streak through the cosmic stuff
Where Creative-ness abounds
--sef

your words are awards
they truly are
they twinkle and sparkle
like a morning star.

And to think they're blazing a trail
streaking through the sky
To bring a special blessing
back to you and I

It was late in the day
Just before dark
I sat there all alone when suddenly the world came alive.
I was wide awake.
My eyes were open.
I did not dream.
I was not even in bed.
I was outside, sitting on the porch swing,
which was on the front lawn- not on the porch.

The grass, the leaves, even the air it self
was like all aglow from within themselves with vibrating life.
Everything looked very different.
It didn't look like these words I'm trying to tell you with make it sound like it looked. It was Alive!
Nothing like that had ever happened before.
It was so awesome that like I became a little scared.
I think that's what broke the spell and suddenly things went back to normal.
It has never happened again. I guess I just imagined it. But it sure did seem real.
I wonder about things like that.

One time in the car I was pulling out into a main street from our side street and swung out way too far into the other lane too late to see the car coming at high speed. I was pulling out right into it's path! For just a split second I knew I was a goner.
The whole world stood still. I mean literally froze in time. It was the weirdest thing. As if that car went right through my car.
Then I was finishing the turn, the car was disappearing in my rearview mirror, and I drove on like in a state of shock. I tried to convince myself that I couldn't have been as far over into the other lane as I thought, but I knew better, and to this day I have never been able to figure out what really happened and I still wonder about that.

From time to time odd things happen that make me wonder and I wonder if I am Loco or like is it just a normal thing and odd, strange things happen all the time to everyone?
............................
Mary
Now that we have the title
What will your poem have to say?
Will it sing a song of flowers?
Or whisper at end of day?
Tell us Mary, tell us true
What is it Mary?
is this poem of you?

..................................

Ideas
Not to be owned.
To be shared.
The more we give, the more we have.



The Turtle & The Vine

in a dream the cucumber vine
grew from the turtle in the center
when the old cucumbers began to rot away
the turtle scurried away carrying the roots
of the main vine to grow again
in another place to make another vine
leaving behind the young cucumbers
which were thriving on the offshoots
of the main vine.
The turtle always scurries away again

we try to follow the turtle
to see where he is going
through bushes and weeds and plants
we run around to the other side
when he races through a shelter
attached to an old barn
he scurries away so quickly
we lose him.
then we see him where he has grown very small
and hides up undeneath the edge of a small old farm building
whose low-built floor almost touches the ground

we fade away from dreaming
into being half awake
seeing a butterfly upon the cotton
of covers
a butterfly whose wings were fragile skeletons
holding invisibility upon their frame.



Quotes about imagination:
Imagination!
"O what torture these vain imaginings bring!"

"Isn't that a chicken and egg thing?
No. I think imagination has a biological substrate.
A world inside the head to live in as well as the world outside, or instead of the world outside."

"...I think there is another layer, which I don't understand.
I think imagination probably comes from distinguishing between self and non-self--how you know whether you are hitting something or whether it is hitting you. And also out of body image--the ability to have a model of your body so that you can predict where it will be if the nervous system isn't quick enough to get feedback."


"O what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to...imagine!!!


Can reality ever measure up to imagination?
surpass it?
How much needless agony comes from vain imaginings?



vain imaginings are like packs of dogs
yapping and barking all night at wind and shadows





Let no seaoats ever cross the threshold of this door. They are forever banished to the dunes, the high mountain dunes marching alongside the Gulf of Mexico carrying ridges upon ridges of wind swept patterns over sugar-white, sun blasted, salt water washed sands.
Don't blink at the DarkBlue strip out on the horizon nor the frothy white appearing and disappearings out beyond the paler blues, the green, the green? yes green waters aqua aqua aqua aquamarine, see the seashells broken into a zillion smithereens along the edges of the gently lapping surf that was smashing up against those upper dunes only yesterday. maybe finding only 14 billion whole ones left but all small. Nothing fantastic. Everything ordinary
Can you weave all these fronds together and make a shade for me? I am very thirsty and tired. The Sun The Cape San Blas Sun burning it's way to Cedar Key where a strange little two-story house lives on an ordinary street. Go inside. Get enthralled. Get carried away. Be on guard lest you become slack-jawed in awe as you wander from room to room upstairs and downstairs. For never have you witnessed art like this before. Every wall covered from floor to ceiling. Paintings of every size and sort and school. ever. ever. All genuine original works of pure genius together in one place. Never mind Sarasota and the Ringling Brothers Museum. Pah! Rubens is nothing more than a ...well actually i did not know Rubens so forget all that, but don't waste time here. Get back to Cedar Key and see if you can find that little two-story house. Don't worry about the long, desolate, God-forsaken road you have to travel to get there. Just be on the look-out for one lonely wind, rain, sun bleached white gnarly old tree standing tall and gracefully curved wearing a curly halo of crooked Cedar things up top. Just be on the look out for that because if you see it out there in the middle of nowhere you will never forget it. It's not Cape San Blas.



Martha went out on a date one sultry summer night
with her first boyfriend.
He picked her up that evening about sundown
and carried her to town for an early supper
at the local drive-in restaurant
where they had hamburgers
with no onions,
french-fries, and chocolate milkshakes.
Then they went to the movie theatre.
Neither really watched the movie,
but sat through the whole thing totally aware of the other.
They didn't hold hands, but their shoulders would touch
occaisionally,
and once in a while one would look at the other.
After the movie they walked out into the night
remarking about how much cooler it was outside,
then drove slowly back along the unpaved roads
to the river where she lived in a houseboat with her father,
who unfortunately was a drunk.

The houseboat was gone.
Some pranksters, knowing they were on a date,
and knowing her father was dead-drunk inside,
had untied the houseboat and set it adrift on the open river.
Martha and her date didn't know what else to do,
so he took her home with him.




Words

words drip from the lips of man
and fall into the rivers of other's...
they all flow together...
tumbling and frothing
over rock and rill
down the mountainsides
and across the endless plains
on and on they wend their way
on and on into the sea,
where upon the waves
of the knowledge of man
they rock back and forth...
meaninglessly



Today my song is silly
I sing in puddin' tame
I play a little ditty
I call my friend a name

I splash my feet in puddles
I drive my mommy nuts
I scatter balls a winding
where daddy's golfball putts

but when the day is over
and i'm asleep in bed
I become a little angel
with halo o'er my my head!
.................................................

Trails
Seaoats tall and tan
growing on the dunes:
Waving in the wind
by the quiet lagoon.
Bending graceful stems
and curly leaves so dry,
patterns on the sand
we read and pass on by...
Our footprints there remain
for all the world to see
mine meeting yours
and yours meeting me.

...........................................


Pessimistic Fatalism

Nudging 'n ciphering 'n reviving
Hard, black roly-polies rolling
Running in the streets, the arena
Whilst the hard black bell keeps tolling

Leaping 'n limping in dirt 'n grime
Icy cold. Beaten and broken.
Over the precipiece they race,
Jerking the noose and choking.

Split wide open in glory
The sopping wet graves slip by
They nibble and gobble from the clutching hand
Then suffer and groan and die.


...........................................


all night, what to do
morning brings the light of day
do nothing at all
...
all night long,
wondering what to do,
morning brings light of day
with answer:
do nothing at all.
...........
polecat walks in
noses turn up in dismay
eyes see it's beauty
.................
drops of rain in face
waking in middle of night
to seek warm shelter
..............
wake up with hunger
must find today daily bread
a meadowlark too
...........
little by little
in seeking Kingdom of God
treasures pile up high
................
woman on the wall
here today, gone tomorrow
only passing through
.....................
The glint of autumn sun illuminates
a thousand pine branches with
the brilliance of sparkling ice.
The sound of silence
falls into the glade;
I stop, look, and listen in
contemplation. A once in a
lifetime opportunity...
one of myriads...
.........................

Today
Someone will find you
Maybe while washing dishes
Perhaps day-dreaming little wishes
They will let the warm water run over their hands
and think of far away lands.
They'll look out the window and wonder
Maybe hear in the distance approaching thunder.
while the warm water keeps on running
Admiring their cat on the porch rail sunning.
Not really thinking of these little background events
They'll see little rainbows in the bubbles and scents,
dreamily absorbed with the warmth in hand
As the turning hourglass is emptied of sand
....................

A point in the past
of another time and place
vines grow up the wall
...............

not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here and there and
everywhere and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like the flames flickering
on the hearth
like the logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
a little longer...
but all events flow
all come,
All go....

.................

the earth tremble
with the
birds of heavens,
They sing among the branches!
The earth is satisfied
by the silent waters
falling from the hills.
.........................

What if egypt ran out of sand!
They'd scream and yell to beat the band
The Pyramids would sink
The Nile would start to stink
And the camels would 'dessert' the land!
..........................

I said, you said, he said,
what does it matter who said
they're only words
dropped by birds
splattering down on our head!
........................

There once was a tree made of oak
tall and leafy with the croak
of a little green frog
who lived on a log
that fell from the tree when it broke.
.................
Little or no reason why
we need to do or die
But that's okay
we're on the way
in a walk, a run, or a fly
..................

a delicious aroma of smoke
wafting in on a joke
sitting in a bar
or driving in a car
with a pal, a jolly good bloke!
.................

We climb all the way to the top
fearing we'll fall or drop
but when we get there
in that rarified air
we find us a field and we flop
...........................

a harder place to sit
than comfy cushions of
favorite chairs in home
a soul will wander
far away when
it is won't to roam
looking for something, wondering what-
gazing across endless valleys
where mists and mountains meet in wispy blue
sitting on rocks and resting,
thinking through
tangled up thoughts,
feelings and such
then finally seeing they don't amount to much
.........................

A huge stone one day
make a place to sit and muse
not there tomorrow
................................
High up on a hill
Mountain ridges roll away
Eagle Rock Aerie
..........................................

There are no rocks
in everglade swamp
only rocks of sunbaked mud
turtles sit sunning on clumps
till someone's canoe
comes swishing by
..........................................

Twilight Shadows
Day embraces night lovingly sweet
beside a watery lake retreat
Willowy branches cling to leaves
dancing one last waltz with birds and bees
Mortal man walks alone and sees
that he is made of such as these
wedding of night betrothed to day
launch empty boat and ride away
.................................

me, myself and I
sweet little cookies all
rolled out on a board of flour
shaped in a big flat ball
tasty to the tongue,
oh what a delectable treat
shaped like a star, a bell,
or big fat gingerbread feet
.......................

a delightful poem
bringing smiles to many hearts
little baby hands
.................................
Village Moon Patterns
are made
upon the old bricks
shining light of night
through gnarly old oak tree
whose limbs spread out comfortingly
above homemade swing
gently moving as lovers sit side by side
low voices murmuring
.....................................

The Swampcat would pick them off
and put them all in a white canvas
bag
Which she would wear out there
Slung haphazardly
Over her shoulder
With no care
.....................................

lost in one another.
The magic of the night
comes creeping in.
Patterns form over all the village
because up high in the sky,
The Village Moon
is there.
.........................

Language is a virus from outer space
from that great hacker in the sky
sent to organic bots on
the earth
who use it to ask each other, "Why?"
--And furthermore to confound,
confuse, discombobulate,
addle, argue, amplify, and
more often that not to intrudingly aggravate.
Language: a virus sometimes called a bug
from way out there
in the wild blue yonder
a little seed-sowing
proliferating slug-a-lug,
from outer space where imaginations wander
Vanilla Flavored Language Virulations
Fill Up drippingly delicious
Cones
Made Of Chain Link Crackers!
........................

Of the most pleasant moments,
none may come to mind
more pleasant than those days
discovering what's left behind
by a hurricane's call
it's scream and squall
for days it whips the dunes
with waters dark and wild
depositing treasures there
to be dug up by a little child.
.......................

dirt road, ruts worn from passing
creatures
the rolling store, old man jones in
his buggy
this road never seen paving before
it's made by cows, children's feet,
horses, wagons and an occaisional
39 ford passes by
the mailman every day except
sunday.
once the doctor. He still had one of them
little black fords with a rumble seat.
this road someday will be covered over with
tar and gravel and stuff and no cows or
horses or children will be allowed on it.
Then after that, who knows? This road might
rise up and fly.
................................

"leave me alone" __ don't help me unless I ask__ I should not ask if I can do it myself.__I'll be glad to help you but only if you really need help, not just because you want it.__
if it's a case of I want you want, my want comes first unless I want your want to come first __
live and let live
.......................
a pile of red leaves
and brown and yellow and green
Autumn leaves burning
..............................

march winds blowing high
from across the western plains
stardust make golden
..............................
settle mind, settle
leave pool unscattered and clear
drink deeply, enjoy
................................

Starlight
Step outside in cold to see
what frosty night might hold for thee.
Look up high into the sky
see all light drawing nigh.
Nearer and nearer it is in thee
flooding o'er all misery.
Warm and sweet it's special glow
silky smooth the silvery flow.
Words from Self a magic pen
writing on a smile again.
.......................

The Turtle
in a dream the cucumber vines
grew from the turtle in the center
when the old cucumbers began to rot away
the turtle scurried away carrying the roots
of the main vine to grow again
in another place to make another vine
leaving behind the young cucumbers
which were thriving on the offshoots
of the main vine.
The turtle always scurries away again
.......................

Among tendrils and curls
little insects unseen,
living in the walls
of garden growing green.
Here blueberries grow
fat and juicy sweet
waiting for little children
to come and claim a treat
.......................

wishing on a treee
in words of old world wonder
green moss growing gray

Whole self enshrouded in a fog
huddled upon a driftwood log
upon the shore
just out of reach
of lapping waters' murmuring speech
cannot see where ocean meets sky
cannot see the sails passing by
wrapt in mist so soft and sweet
feel cool wet sand upon my feet.
.......................

wrapped up in warmth
so as not to shiver cold
......................

walking in barefeet
when twilight dew has fallen
on grassy green lawn
..........................
little lizard green
looking for something to eat
we are together
..............................
magpies chatter high
treetops host them for an hour
peace and quiet returns
.................................
smell the spring-plowed earth
prepared for planting the seeds
of our daily bread
....................................
Moon in well reflect
deepness of silence within
secret is revealed
..................................
with equanimity:
little leafs flutteringly
fall from off the tree
....................................
A shooting star flew overhead
It put old Joe in an awful dread
What'll he do,
and who should he sue?
If it comes in for a landing upon his head!?
......................

walking in barefeet
when twilight dew has fallen
on grassy green lawn
......................................
Know thy friend!
learn learn learn
This poor misunderstood fellow
is at the mercy of a whole world
wide web full of connections,..
O what a tangled web you weaves
when first you get wired up with "Jeeves!"
(look on the floor behind your friend)
learn learn learn!
You will surely get stuck
when you push buttons
pow! pow! pow!
in such quick succession
that your poor confused friend
knows not which of your wishes
be his command!
Therefore, he freezes.
can't move an inch, leaves you stuck, then
YOU! fair weather friend that you be, lay curses and blame at the door of your poor, innocent friend...and to add insult to injury
you give him the boot!
............................

Command these elements to silence!
This acre of ground
rise and fall o'er hill and dale:
A bubbling fountain behind a swale,
tiny mountains there-
this outdoor room of rarified air,
blushing coxcomb over there-
in front of goldenrod wild in patches;
giving a glimpse of old ragged thatches.
Old hands tremble
encountering this hallowed place,
breathing in it's sweetness
thinking..ah 'tis true
the only thing I shall miss
dear old outdoor room...
is you!..
...............................

Pulling away the curtain of light
I saw you:
Lighter Still
A light lighting up the light
a light upon a hill
the topmost hill and curve
of the rainbow at it's top
all it's colors invisible
........................................


...........................................

I've heard it said that
the cicada's
not here long enough
to see all seasons unfold,
and the fungus
not even a whole day,
so how much
knowledge can they hold?
Far be it from me to
claim knowledge
beyond the beams of
my own little
light which shines out
in all directions as far
as it is necessary;
Moment to moment.
...................................

however...
leaving the grandeur of Niagara
the tumultous roar
behind
for a quiet little brook in a meadow
gazing upward at blue mountains in distance
while fluid sound of meadow lark delights
an ear...
smell that new-mown hay
feel that fresh air on face
sunshine, shadow,
Niagara, Meadow...
a time and a place for everything....
.................................

Would that you could
Live in a park
So your Winter would be
Lovely
But if you can't
Hope you'll paint
A Winter that's
Way more lovely...
With powdery snow
And sleds that go
...wheeeee.....
Swooshing by
On the hills above ye! :-)

.......................................

There is a river of streams and mountains
Strung out like blue and green pearls all
The way to the end of the earth
In the midst of many twigs and leaves
One little brown wren so sweetly uttered
his voice that the earth melted to hear it

--------------

This, our original garden
Was here before this dark
night sky ever lit up with
moons and myriads of stars.
.........................
The form of these flowers
withered away in winter's
frosty air
but now they are back again,
and their colors did not fade.

`````
A huge chunk of redhot charcoal
Spat from grill's broken mouth,
Sudden jumpback of unsteady images to
startledness,
in cold dew the sawgrass starts to bathe.
A rain-filled running creek splashes nearby
as night-mists creep in among the trees.
Starlight flows into dark openings
where old white cobwebs become visible.
Standing by my high swung hammock

..............................

I can not think.
...............................

Lavender white petals,
Sweet and delicate,
Fall from the wisteria
All day long,
Carpeting patio brick with
a new luxury of soft beauty.
Rays of sunlight penetrate
To the bottom of the pool,
Leaving the water warmer.
...

It's yesterday
All over again.
The same sunshine
The same cool spring morning
It's yesteryear
All over again today.
How mystifying it is that
Everything is so very different
And yet is exactly the same!
................................
START HERE
Sunshine covers earth and sky,
Green leaves and flowers abound;
Spring has lept over the wall of winter
Like salmon up a wall of water,
Blossoms cascade whitefully pink
From branches into this golden
Treasury of Light.
......................................

The earth is
So very, very, beautiful...
Even little dead twigs
And dry brown leaves
On the ground
Crumbling
......................................
Beside a swiftwater creek with
Wild birds and squirrels,
White clouds drift peaceably by above.
Softly after twilight the moon arrives;
always greeted with a gaze of wonder
and admiration.
Creatures rest undercover surrounded by
Gardens of fruit and flowers;
Dewy cornstalks flourish in their bed of earth.
This is an imaginary world where
One may come to rest on a
mountain with phoenixes and cranes.
...........................................

Rain drip from eaves
Midmorning make stars invisible
Clouds wrap around green trees.
Even in dark stormy sky they
Become glowingly bright;
Out of dark mist they
turn to resplendent light
Infinity shine into serenity;
Reflecting all seen and unseen.
.........................

Clouds wrap around green trees.
Even in dark stormy sky they
Become glowingly bright;
Out of dark mist they
turn to resplendent light
Infinity shine into serenity;
Reflecting all seen and unseen.
..............................

Watch a sailing moon
dart between clouds in
tune with windy scuds;
Crows sleep somewhere-
Wherever it is that crows sleep.
In the morning, a little child waits
with an empty bowl- eager for food,
and an old man chops weeds.
When it's April once again,
pine pollen paints the whole world yellow.
A stump in the garden is free of care.
...

Today
I sat beside a place
Where gladiolas were planted
Yesterday.
A Brown thrasher nearby scratched
like a chicken in loose leaves under
thickets of yellow rose vines.
My little brown puppy jumped playfully
at a yellow butterfly as it dipped and
fluttered by.
Moon's night light forgotten,
We drank the dew of morning
Without a care in the world.
...

I am always here and
It is always now.
I see constant change.
Things come and go.
People come and go.
Experience flows on.

.............
... Under a sky of a thousands of colors
Under ten thousands of a zillion leafy leaves
Tall trees tower over one who daily wanders
up one trail and down another...
Back to sleep in a woven arbor at night
Years go by, a river of springs flowing
Summers to autumns to frosty winter nights
Faster and faster swiftly pass by being still but
like water off a duck's back nothing can cling.
Serenity glows golden like a warm october day.
...>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Today
It's fully, completely Spring
The night is warm
Both the moon and the trees
look thicker, less farther away
than before
When I gaze off into space
I see way beyond them
Out to where the sky is all
Spread out full of stars.

`````````````````
What of seeking and sinking
Into unknown tomorrows
Endless eternity of
joy and sorrows
Tiny white blosssoms
On fragile twigs made stronger
By sweet nectar's flow

``````````````
.Northern winter freezes
have brought the robins in
for warm southern sunshine
What gentleness in the first
of these early morning fogs.
.............................

We watched a man who loved his life die.
He struggled with all his might,
with every ounce of strength,
with every iota of
will power he possessed,
To stay alive.
He loved his life.
He loved the life he was living.
He loved every minute of every day
of every year,
From the time he was born
to the time he died,
he loved his life.
And all throughout his life,
The only time he ever
struggled and strived
Was at the end when he
struggled to stay alive
...............................

There used to be one
you know,
who many a time
sat over there
on that old rotten stump
and told us stories.
With a very charming
twinkle he always said
that he'd never been
known to let the truth
ruin a good story.
Well,
we never knew which
part was true
and which part was not
which was pure gospel
and which was rot,
but we didn't care,
no not at all
for he had the power
to enthrall.
Spellbound we listened
to our friend
until his voice faded...
...out at...
The End.
.................................................

Ignis Fatuus the light that's not quite
a light but something in the night
Not an old dead stump, they say, that's
caught fire from some stray flash, a
lightning bolt, nor some little cloud
of swamp gas ignited by a
firefly sitting on it too long , but no.
It has to be something much more
exotic than that. Something mysterious.
eerie. hauntingly melancholy...like
purple orchid juice being squeezed out from
bamboo reeds and vaporizing before
it can be lapped up by Venus Fly Traps.
That's all.
.....................

Then
The wild creatures of the field
will be our family and kin
With all living beings we shall feast
There will be no unease at night
nor raining rains of blight,
nor black clouds rising o'er hill and plain
heralding disasters
shattering wide lands,
splintering them into shards
like a broken earthen pot.
Turning to blackness all that had been light.
No more crying in travail,
nor moans moaning aloud:
No one, all humbled, to sit and weep,
their lips drawn tight
in fitful sleep
The sweet-voiced angels shall soon assemble
The vibrating strings will hum and tremble.
All the skies in celebration
Shall sweetly throb in consummation
Comprehending the void, both rhyme and reason
Shall reign supreme in every season.
______________


There was once a poet of Japan
who was a very unusual man
Though his name was Matsuo Munefusa
He was known as Basho!
When young he was a samurai,
but he must've heard a soul-cry,
For later, (lucky for you and me,)
He devoted his life to poetry.
Considered a master of Haiku form,
the short five,seven,five-line norm
which reflects the simplicity
of his meditative life...
(did he have a wife?)
When he needed solitude
He had a place to go to brood,
he withdrew to his basho-an
a hut for a solitary man
made of plaintain leaves you see
which is how he came to be:
Basho!
A mystical man of universal themes
woven into natural images it seems
No less the moon of harvest night
than fleas that gave him quite a flight
of fancy into newfound light,
Basho!
___________

See the green grass tufted well
From pastures back to barn
Low the sun falls in the west
'Tis time to hear a yarn
Shoo the flies, bat the eyes
Chew the cud so slow
Round and round and round the calf
Chase them out the row
For twilight comes to winter's night
'Ere the moonrise full
So draw the pail, to living's flow
For yonder kitchen's jewel.

________________


What a lovely little garden
Creamy and pale
Smooth and sweet
Misty white veil
..............................
Ghostly petals
Floating to earth
Tiny wings flutter
It's nature's birth.
...........................

Once upon a time there was a
young man who traveled across
the ocean to Scotland for a
time of a year or three
He fell in love with a bonnie lass,
but alas! Their love was not to be!

For he could not make his home there
And Oh! the terrible, terrible despair!
For neither could she
leave her home to live otherwhere!

So in the end they said goodbye.
Forever and ever, and forever more!
He went back home from whence he came,
and left her in tears on Scotland's shore.

(They each never saw the other again
and now they both are gone.)

Did they always remember and...wish...
Or did each forget the other one.
..............................

Forgive Us Our Debts
Of debts we owe, some we know
and those we try to pay;
But what of those unconsciously accrued
in times we went astray?
How many times have we done harm
and didn't even know it?
How many hearts have we caused pain
that didn't outwardly show it?
Have we caused another to commit
errors wholly unaware
until the day of reckoning
overtook them somewhere?
We have no way of knowing
things we cannot see
hidden in secret darkness
away from you and me:
So that is why we daily pray
forgiveness for our debts;
And that is why we forgive,
and wipe away regrets.
"Forgive us our debts as we
forgive our debtors,"
We ask of Love and Life;
Carry us through temptation's lands,
where stumbling blocks are rife.
So though we owe and do not know,
our debts are wiped away,
if we clear the slate of our debtors
each and every day.

................................

Whoof!!! Wham! psssssssssttttttssssssss
Whoof! Ouch! Oh dear oh dear oh dear
So invisibly visible can't be seen!
They're either too young or too old
too gray or too grassy green!
Too blazing flamingly burning up hot
Or too frozenly stiff 'n icy cold
Too syrupy sweet runningly gooey goo
or too brazenly brassily bold.
O Lady of Spain!!!I implore thee!!!
Run the white flag up the pole--
And if they don't all run out to salute it,
go jump in a cosmic black hole!
.............................

But the lance
perchance
could enhance
a jungle trail
meet face to face
pass on by.
Let the lance
clear the way
machete like
thru tangle vines
snarled lines
Lance like salad-fork tines
new tool
plowshare
there.
......................................
(an american in
Vietnam War
telling about being on a trail,
scouting ahead of his group..
.gun in hand....
meeting a N.Viet Nam soldier,...
both eye ball to eye ball..
.both passsing one another on by
as if they didn't see each other.
Neither wanted to shoot the other.

__________________


Oh the sad refrain!
One more heart in agony and pain,
left by the wayside in ashes
where fate flings and dashes...
.One by one they fall
by the wayside.
Throw thine own body torn
wracked and ruined and worn
upon the midst of the heap:
There thou shalt lie and weep...___
..................................

The first one that popped up
Was Mama Ducks four
With many little baby ducks
Two or three or more
Dark Wewahitchka waters
Reflecting light and dreams
Fanciful romantic midnights
On River's channel streams
Back to now
TODAY
Back to where you've been
Down to Martin's MillPond
To paddle the paddle again!

__________


October's leaves will surely see
Another flaming of this tree
Nor yet a beauty in death be seen
But that what gives the seed it's green
Burst forth anew for many a morrow
Wiping away all grief and sorrow
This tree stands tall to touch the sky
Whispering in the wind where songbirds fly.
-odmmb

______________________________________________________

To: The Great Silent Majority
There be lots of things to wonder about
when it comes to what's what in the world.
Under this heavy ceiling made of
something opaque,
we can barely see,
the images are dim,
hard to decipher
Through clouds and swirling winds,
But wait! Have you opened your eyes!?
Did I hear one of you say,
"What light through yon window breaks?!"
...................

Live behind the guard.
the guard there at the gate,
stand protected from evil's
harrowing inundate;
Depend upon that which
does not lead astray,
and keeps a constant vigil
continuing night and day.
Watching every direction
Every nuance,
Every reflection.
Stand behind the guard
The guard there at the gate
The guard that filters out
The dark side of your fate.
..........................

So you're dying, eh?
Well...you know what they say..."here today, gone tomorrow."
Don't let it get you down, it's no excuse for sorrow.
You ain't gone yet. Though you got one foot in the grave, tis so,
but that aint no sign we won't jump in ahead of you, you know
So stop your braggin' bout your breatheing and pains going to and fro.
Shoot! You ain't got no corner on the market of misery and woe.
See that guy over there? The one you been telling about your trouble?
Well, he ain't got enough breath left in him to blow up a soap bubble!
So just who do you think you are? Don't you wanta die?
Don't you wanta go to that "big Keyboard in the sky?"
In this place here you never know from one moment to the next
If you'll make one more heartbeat, one more step, one more text...
Speaking of text, who's next? ....Aaaarrrrggggg..clutching my head!
I think I'm dying! OH Yeah! I did! I died! I'm already dead!!!
(poof!
..........................................
We're all in it together.
We cry some days. We laugh some days.
Sometimes we are serious. Sometimes we are silly.
Always we are human. We're all in it together.
.................................

A little child looked up to his Mom
His little eyes aglow
He was almost too young to talk
and way too young to know
the things he said to her that day
For they were things of God
That even the highest priest couldn't know
unless his feet had trod
upon that hallowed ground
where only angels are allowed
Unless they were so very special
and not of the ordinary crowd.
The Mom felt a tingle of fear
causing her hair to rise
She couldn't say a single word
Caught in utter surprise...
A whisper escaped her lips
For she knew right there and then
That her precious little boy
Would be going back again;
But when it happened she was so shocked
her grief was hard to bear.
She couldn't have possibly lived through it
If God had not been there
to carry her safely through the storm,
the waves of unbearable pain
of knowing her arms would never hold
her precious little boy again.
.........................



Your Smile
Your one smile is better by far
than ten thousand smiles from another;
Better to be comforted by you
than a baby by it's mother

Ten thousand parts of souls
long for ten trillion parts of eyne,
ten thousand trillion wishes
upon ten thousand stars that shine

To live and love in that dear land
Where no heart e'er grows cold
Where Truth is king and rules the throne
And no one e'er grows old

So now ten thousands of thousands of smiles
upon your children's faces
For that one smile you smiled on them
has left ten thousands of thousands of traces.
--odmmb

_____________________________________________________


A "Short"
Jane inhaled deeply and nearly choked.
The ether-man swirled around the room
like smoke in a barroom at two a.m. on a Friday Morning,
tweaking her in places she didn't even know she had.
Suddenly she jumped up from her chair,
toppling it over backwards in her haste to escape.
She ran barreling out the back door,
tripped over a bulging mole hill in
the middle of the back yard,
and landed face down in the Pride of
Mobile azalea bush by the smokehouse.
Then she just lay there.
Unmoving.
Arms outspread, face buried in the
purple-pink mound of blossoms.
Not even the gentle breeze stirring in the
leaves of the tree above her had
the courtesy to touch her hair.
Inside the house,
ether-man kept swirling.
--odmmb

_______________________________________________________-

My Heart
I'll keep my heart all to myself
but you're welcome to come in

(If you'll mind your p's & q's,
I might let you come back again.)

In fact m'love, I'm so impressed:
I just might give you the key
So you can live in here...
In my heart with me.
--odmmb

___________________________

What it is to see through crystal eyes I cannot know
unless it is to see through one facet of it...just so...
For each set of eyes looks out from where they are
And sees only that view from their own particular star
Impossible, I must think, to know the self of other
Even if we're all one-- our own father and mother...
--odmmb

__________________________________________--

There you go again!
Making me want to sing again!
Making me want to play...say..
.a guitar or something
like something I can strum
and let my nimble,
hardened-by-experience fingertips
run up and down the strings on.
--odmmb

______________________________-


Existence...It's such a mystery...
yes so strange
Painful, yet Compelling...
Confusing, yet Desirable...
No wonder some like the parellel play
of roller-coastering and wild contraptional rides
in amusement parks the whole world over
With their ups and downs, high speed and slow
Their pauses for contemplation before they go
It's one unpredictable wild and wooly ride, but they know
The Outcome.
--odmmb

_______________________________________-


Barbie Ditty
Barbie Doll lives here
On this Army Base
She's surrounded by Army Men
Some from outer Space
Her head's clamped onto her shoulders
with Super/Crazy/Glue
She's got her own arcane arsenal
But she ain't got a clue.
That's why she's so impervious
To missiles flying by.
She comes from some wild planet
Out of the Azure Sky:
She'll get beamed up, "POOF"
To some old flying saucer
When her mission's completed here
Where it takes a`Kin to boss her!
--odmmb

_____________________________________________


Sneakin' in the dark house,
Thinkin' nobody's home:
Stick hand in door to lightswitch
Knees turn to jelly-foam
As another hand clamps down
On a hand creeping in
Goose is surely cooked
Caught red-handed again
--odmmb

___________________________________________


Long after the tune is gone
our hearts still sing forgotten songs.
Though no words are left to speak or say
the things we think or feel today
they're not erased, they shall return.
We live, we love, we learn;
Our song is singing all along,
While we are living right or wrong.
And though forgotten for a while
our song is with us every mile...
So if today you're feeling down,
lift up your head and soothe your frown,
for though your tune has flown for now
it's always there...we know not how!
--odmmb

__________________________________________________--



************************************************************************
*******************************************













All things together,
Infinite.
In sizes, shapes, forms.
Infinite.
In number.
No least of small,
Always a smaller;
No end of great
Always a greater
Great and Small,
In Amount: Equal.
Compared to itself.
All
Is both Great and Small.
Seeds of all sorts of shapes
And Colors and savors
Within them life is formed.
All.
Worlds and Animals and Plants,
Cultivated Fields and Towering Cities,
Villages, Fields, Forests, Rivers, Streams,
Clouds, Mountains, Trails,
Interstate Highways, and MacDonalds,
Bars, Churches, Schools, Museums,
Capitol domes, Town squares, and Streets,
Houses, Barbeque grills, Warehouses, Docks,
Apartments, Rooms, Stores, Theatres,
Libraries, Bathtubs, Cascading waterfalls,
Underground caverns and Dripping limestone;
All
They have a sun and a moon and the rest
As with us
Their earth brings forth for them
Many things
Which they gather together into their dwellings
and make good use of them.
All
Is both Great And Small.
--odmmb

_______________________________________________


Did she get burnt out?
Or did she tire of him?
Or did she find him much less
After the fire began to dim?

Or was she just a flighty-flight
And not what he thought she was?
Or was she a downright predator,
Like Orca in the movie jaws?

Did she somehow get a thrill
from watching men fall for her?
Then always soon become bored,
And like a little female cur

Did she go running out to look
up and down the street
cutting her eyes up and down
the guys she chanced to meet?

Is that why she needed "time?"
So she'd be more free to cruise
Looking for more male conquests
Another heart to bruise?

Or did she find she needed time
To put her life in order?
Was she feeling overwhelmed,
Falling too far over the border?

Now that time is all they have
Maybe they both can figure out
If they're happy all the time together,
Or if there's a little doubt.

Here's hoping they'll both be happy
May their hearts never be sad
whether they're all alone or together
May their time be filled with glad.
--odmmb

__________________________________________

Your Cutters Row
is a place we'd like to go,
Your master flower grower we know
could prune us just so,
so that we would grow
Into blossoms perfect and pure
Whose sweet fragrance would endure
We know we need her pruning shears
to prune away our rotting ears
Where worms eat hope and raise our fears
and nips each bud as it appears,
We also need to lose
The thoughts we did not choose
The thoughts that had us blind
May the fog be lifted from our mind
So that sweet music we too shall find
In that world where she shined
Your master flower grower there
On cutters row, a place so fair.
--odmmb

______________________________________________


Grasshoppers are grassy green
Oysters are pearly white
The sun comes up in the mornin'
And goes back down at night
Black tie and tails at formals
PJ's and gowns in bed
Life starts in a teeny, weeny baby
And lasts 'til you're stone cold dead
--odmmb

_____________________________________


Now here we are
you and I
Our spirits caught
In the swirl of time,
my head lies upon your breast,
your hand is clasped in mine.
In blissful dreams
our eyes are closed,
we're swept along the river,
ethereal spirts caught in time,
we dream of love forever....
Glimmering rainbows,
glittering stars,
are strewn along our trail,
crystal and gold
and diamonds old
and laces creamy and pale.
Here we are,
you and I,
caught in the swirl of time;
Your head lying upon my breast
and my hand clasped in thine.
--odmmb

___________________________________________

First is Last
In this case, because of a clicking mouse
The original message moved out of it's house
It went from where it was at the top of the avenue
down to the middle of the park on Circle deja vu!
But that just proves the case we've seen pop up before
The first one o'er the sill is the last one out the door!!
--odmmb





all above this line sent
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]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

*******************





Morning softly comes over the mountains
to moisten the valley with mist,
where sparkling crystal waters live
and lovely things exist.

Where delicate pines towering tall
lift lacy branches up to sky,
softly greening the questions of man;
Often asking who and why?

The depths of mysteries clearly seen
below the chimney-rock flues;
Ripples playing and murmuring
musical morning blues.

Not sad, not plaintive, this beautiful day,
but soft and sweet and moist;
A song behold! The soul of man,
Upon the earth has voiced.
--odmmb


__________________________


Drifting on a raft crudely built
of flotsam and jetsam floating
Last ditch chance for life
Circling sharks gloating
No land in sight
No water to drink
No rainclouds drifting by
Just me alone lost at sea
Wondering when I'll die
Will I starve or will I burn
from fever and thirst unslaked?
Or will I merely fade into oblivion
Not knowing if I slept or waked?
Will this crude raft I hoped would save me
float here empty but for bones;
Or slowly sink to the bottom and settle down
on the locker of Davy Jones?
Or will that mirage I see in wavery form
Off yonder on the misty horizon
Will that nebulous thing so surely unreal
Turn out to be a mountain,
Set upon a paradise Isle of sweet waters,
Flowing from a paradise fountain?
Tomorrow will tell me for the tide is strong,
This raft is moving swift,
Toward whatever it is out there waiting
For this old soul is set adrift.
--odmmb

_____________________________________-
****************************************





____________________ALL ABOVE THIS LINE SENT


*******************************************************
Man and his old dog,
getting re-trained tells a tall, tall tale
That can't help but be true
Just ask anyone who's ever had a pet!
They won't hesitate! They'll tell you!
Hunh!!!
Anyone who thinks they taught old Rover
To Run and fetch and carry
Ain't got no real idea of what really happened
That's known by most any Tom, Dick or Harry!
Shoot!
That dog's got his so-called master so under his thumb
He even takes over the bed.
That dog's rolling in clover.
Couldn't be better fed.
Why yesterday, you know what I caught that man
DOING?
Why he was out there in the kitchen frying up a STEAK!
I said, "I thought you just got through eating supper!"
And he said, "I know that, but this is for BRUIN!"
Ha!
....Well, you know how that goes!...
Seems the best canned gourmet dog food
don't suit old Bruin no more.
I tell you folks, my patience has just about gone
And I'm getting ready to hit the door
just as soon as I get finished eating my bowl of beans
He left for me here on the floor!
(: ) ___________ (: )
--odmmb

______________________________________



********************************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE**************



All-together
in orchestral dances
upon the shimmering glow
move to the music of self
none other but we can know
Sweeter than honey
robbed from the hives
of bees out in the wild
More innocent
than babies yet unborn
More carefree
than our inner child
Eye to eye
and heart to heart
We make our music known
We play our flute that has no holes
For silent music of our own...
--odmmb

__________________________________________--

Runaway Retirees
They sat across from each other
In a little booth at the City Cafe'
Laughing and talking joyfully
Each having their equal say

His hair was scarce to find
hers was snowy white
But you could tell thier flames
Still were burning bright

They'd lean across the table
aware only of themselves
totally engrossed with each other
like magical fairy elves

One could feel romantic energy
emanating from their table
Like teenagers, this old couple
were ready, willing and able!
--odmmb

(These two old folks I saw at a
small cafe somewhere in South Florida... :-)

_________________________________________________________-


Riverman ran out over the banks,
Away from his forest bed,
running amok amid mead and maid
Filling his foes with dread.
Until one day, all broke and bent
Bruised and battered by life,
Riverman remembered his old love true
Remembered his River-bred wife
Swaddled in mud and muck that stunk
His heart began to fall
He heard the ripples of time running swift
He heard the river's clean call
So before the banks were covered o'er
with winter's cold and white
and falling leaves on currents swift
floated into the night,
Riverman ran with hopeful heart
back to the flowing stream
back to sandbars, eddies and curves
back to his childhood dream.
--odmmb

_______________________________________________
*******************************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE**************





Lover's Inkwell
Bottomless.
The greenish-blue color
creates the illusion
that it is a bottomless netherworld.
Added to the mystique is
their failure, so far to find
the bottom.
But by tying their saddle ropes together,
They can write the happy ending.
--odmmb

__________________________________________


Decisions:

We see the spider in her web
Then the hapless bug fall in
Our first impulse:
To rescue the bug,
Lift it out and set it safely
out of reach.
But then on second thought
We wonder?
Would it be wise
To deprive the spider?
But then again...
What about the bug?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
--odmmb

________________________________________________

They Opened the Dam
Cycles, and Cycles and Cycles
deja vu all over again
The river goes up in mist
Comes back down in rain

Collects in ponds and puddles
Rains on Paul's Parade
Showers on the unctious unbrella
Of The Elegant Lady's Charade

Push the river back by Hoover
Or push it back by Main
But don't try to push the river
Under the banks of pain

Or else the muck and trash and tripe
and cold and crazy crud
Will drown all souls for miles around
In a filthy flood of mud.

So pull the plug from out the dam
Let the river flow
Swim with the current swift and sure
Swim with the current slow.
-odmmb


________________________________________

****************************************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE******




When some strange something...
in an inner human illumines,
it's that light that negates darkness,
that dissolves night...
The light that is neither sun
nor star
nor lamp
nor candle
Nor any light known so far to science
enabling etheric physicality to move and see things
that in the realm of known
may or may not be.
--odmmb

______________________________________________________



Moonlight shadows
soft and grey,
lighting patterns along the way;
Arches dark to form the gate,
no longer saying you must wait.
Stop. Rest a while.
Look back on hours already flown
Of the darkest hours before the dawn
before swimming into the deep,deep blue
Where who knows what awaits for you.
How many have flung themselves below
Without waiting, how could they know
that in the morning the earth and sky
would all the pain bid them goodbye
and this the bridge to pure delight
would lead us all Into the Light
-odmmb

_______________________________________________.


Tell her plain and true!
Her blushing cheeks bespoke
what her rosy-red lips would not
to speak but she did know
that in all the things you do
you let your truth come through
the mystery that is you;
Your sweet music is such art,
keeping care of her tender heart
with whatever breath you give
as long as you both shall live.
Tell her true tonight!
Let the priest in surplice white
renew the vows you write
So tell her plain and true
Those thoughts you know you trust
Will put her pulse in a rush
And did you know your passions stir
The blush of passions high in her.
Tell her now both plain and true
What you would have her tell to you.
--odmmb

______________________________________--
*************************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE********************





Me, mysef 'n I, All hung out to dry,
draped like drying figs over bone-white leafless twigs
Isn't it mine to choose which I wish to use?
It's a lotta fun to be more than one!
I can be turtle when it's time to hurtle
softly and slowly gently and lowly
through the tall grass on gleaming brass
but later I might bring myself to a spring
of showers and bowers and green ivy towers
Where April flowers bloom in misty twilight's gloom
With the brotherly love of a gentle glove
Worn in Unity with much impunity
Who might then As a Novice in Zen
Study to find the Way of which the Masters say
will lead to enlightenment.
But ah! shucks-a-spear doth then appear
To ask what light in yon window breaks...
Cutting through the corn one frosty october morn
Many questions remain
Nothing to lose and nothing to gain.
-dale



___________________________________________


Your thoughts are sweet indeed,
And yes, silent too
but I can hear them loud and clear
as they emanate out from you
Your aura radiates
all over the whole creation
as you ruminate and meditate
in inward edification
now we all can benefit
from what your brain has done
for you have made some marks
to enlighten us, every one!!
--odmmb

_____________________________________________



It was back in the past, years ago
We took a trip to see if it was so
That mountains rose up towering tall
Above the earth where cascades fall
We drove all day and half the night
Then slept awhile 'til broad daylight
And sure enough the tale was true
The mountains were there all misty blue
We played all day and walked the trails
Picked the flowers and talked their tales
With mountain folk who lived up there
Where trips to town were very rare
Then When the day was almost done
We Stood on a cliff and watched the sun
As it sank below the ridges of blue
Where whip-poor-wills call
goodnight to you.
--odmmb

_________________________________________
***************************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE********************




Autumn
The Season most people prefer,
Autumn is like My Jennifer:
A sweet and lovely girl
Whose tresses moistly curl
Around a misty morning
Like a necklace adorning
Lacy leaves with diamonds bright
Where upon them falls the light
Soon the sunrise glittering gold
Melts the frost so crunchy cold
Ah so loved my Jennifer and Fall
For they are fairest of them all!
odmmb

______________________________________________-


Lurking?
Lately it looks as if another word meaning
will change
Lurking used to mean something a little sinister,
sneaky
maybe a little ambush in the offing!
But lately?
Hmmmm...that little word lurking
denotes
taking pleasure in the scene,
quietly listening from where one is
with enjoyment
to the panaramic play of human
intellectual intercourse
laid out in infinite arrays;
Filling up passing days
with the arts and designs
of kindred minds;
From behind a cyberscreen.
Alone in a crowd; Unseen.
Like sitting at a table for one
behind a rubber plant
In a crowded restaurant
enjoying overheard conversations;
Filling ones mind
while lurking behind
a newspaper.
--odmmb

_____________________________-______________--



Seeds of Plenty
Today there's the magical cyberflower
endowed with age-old magical power
that no matter how many people stop to break it
It blooms again right away so when they take it,
the next visitor can pluck a bloom to take away
so they may sniff a smile on a rainy day,
Think of the magicalness of those flowers true
and it brings to mind another magical thing to do
Fill a pitcher with the milk of plenty
Then pour out glasses "four and twenty,"
and no matter how much milk is poured out
No one ever has to go without...
Remember in childhood that story told,
about an old couple who lived by the road?
Very poor except for one thing
No matter what fortune or fate could bring
Their pitcher of milk never went dry
There was always a plenty for all passers by
For no matter how much they served their brothers,
They always had plenty for themselves and for others!
--odmmb

__________________________________________________-
*********************SENT ALL ABOVE THIS LINE*********************8

Leaves on the window
sun shining through
it's all held together with
carpenter's glue.



Leaves on window panes
Glowing bright
Transformed by
the autumn light
Crimson, Magenta, Orange and dun
Even a speckled and freckled one
:-).
Maple, Popcorn, and Turkey Oak too
Leaves on the window
With sun shining through.
(: )
To hold them in place, so they don't fall,
tiny bits of "funtack" or tape in a ball!
--odmmb

________________________________________-

Another Short

Sofi got up early,
caught the first bus to town to pick up her new dress.
She had it in lay-away at a store on main street.
She didn't have much time.
She had to hurry back home and get ready
because Fred was going to pick her up at ten o'clock.
They were going to the next state over to get married.
Today was her wedding day.
Her second wedding day.
Also Fred's second wedding day.
Fred.
"Oh God, oh God," she prayed over and over and over
"if it's wrong for me to marry him, please stop me!"
She had been praying this same prayer constantly
ever since she'd agreed to marry him.
She was not in love with him.
He had kissed her once and the kiss was nothing.
She felt nothing for him.
Now as she came out of the store with her dress
and started walking along the crowded sidewalk
back to the bus stop,
she was still praying that same prayer
when she saw him coming toward her.
She nearly fainted. She couldn't avoid him.
She didn't want to see him. What was he doing here?
Where was he going?
What if he asked her what she was doing?
She was looking right at him.
She could've reached out and touched him.
But he didn't even see her!
He hurried right on by, eyes straight ahead!
She couldn't believe it!
She was so weak with the shock of him being there
and relief that he didn't see her,
that she almost missed her bus.
--odmmb

_________________________________________-





***********************************************

The question from the Man:
"What do you consider to be your
most valuable possession?"
That is a very good question.
The Most Valuable Thing,
Is it gold and silver? Stocks and Bonds?
Pearls and Rubies and diamond rings?
Think and think hard, said The Man
Look around your home, your abode
What will you put on the table?
In this little game of chance we're playing,
In this life's unfolding fable?
Remember this thing:
If you fold
and throw in the cards,
It's lost to you forever and ever
with no real regards.
(The Pot of Gold.
At the end of the Rainbow.)
So what is the one thing you own
that you don't want to lose?
What would you count most dear,
if you ever had to choose?
--odmmb

__________________________________________


I am old and gray headed
and I have been shown
great and sore trouble.
But I have been comforted
on every side.
I sing.
I play music upon my flute.
My lips greatly rejoice when I sing.

The mountains bring peace,
and the little hills bring joy.
The sun and the moon, they endure.
Sweet rains come down in showers
onto the mown grass, watering the
earth in abundance of peace.

I have seen many wondrous things
and glorious miracles,
and though I am one of the poor,
of whom they say is with you always,
I am goldenly rich beyond measure.

__________________________________________

Our Substance
We are old and gray,
our bones will be scattered
at the grave's mouth,
but we are fearfully and wonderfully made,
and though our days are as a shadow
trailing upwards to touch the mountains
like tiny gray wisps of smoke,
we were covered in our mother's womb.
Our substance was not hid when we were made in secret.
Our substance.
Is not old and gray.
--odmmb

__________________________________________




All day thinking one thing or another
Most of which is deleted.
If the purpose of thinking is to know
Are we decidedly defeated?

Or do these meandering machinations
have meanings yet undefined?
Are they like swirling atoms of power
Generated by the mind?

These words on paper--
whatever they are
From whence do they come?
Out of the "wild blue yonder?
Out of the pulp of a plum?
From the middle of mayhem?
From off the leg of a lamb?
Or maybe from etheric ether
Or from the Great I Am!
Perhaps they come from Everywhere
Or maybe from Nowhere At All,
Or maybe from Kilroy in the Jungle,
Or maybe from off the wall...

Never-the Less and whatever,
and by the by, little bird, tweet, tweet
Thinking thoughts all day long
Can't be nothing, nowhere so sweet!

Unless it could be the opposite:
No mind no thought no sea,
But just the sweetness of knowing
that to be is just to be
--odmmb

___________________________________________



A pool of stillness
midst roaring of traffic,
siren screams, and one
lone vendor yelling, "get your
hotdogs here!" ...
It's a red leaf blown up against
the white side of this tall
skyscraper.
Where did it come from?

.......

All the old sages,
All the the old wise ones:
Persons.
All the voices ever heard,
All the pages of written word:
From persons to
Person to person.

All the old sages,
All the the old wise ones:
Persons.
All the voices ever heard,
All the pages of written word:
From person to
person to person.
We are persons, too,
We can know what's true.
In our self no surprise,
In our self we are wise:
In our self our voice is heard,
In our self we write our word.
Person to person run through sieve
Filtering out what's true to believe
Everything must run the test of self
Or else it's put back on the shelf.
Just as thoughts come and go
The words of others go with the flow.
"...But only after observation and analysis,
when you find that anything agrees with reason and
conducive to the good and benefit of one and all,
then accept it and live up to it."

We are persons, too,
We can know what's true.
In our self no surprise,
In our self we are wise:
In our self our voice is heard,
In our self we write our word.
Person to person run through sieve
Filtering out what's true to believe
Everything must run the test of self
Or else it's put back on the shelf.
Just as thoughts come and go
The words of others go with the flow.
"...But only after observation and analysis,
when you find that anything agrees with reason and
conducive to the good and benefit of one and all,
then accept it and live up to it."

...

Not caring about a meter's call,
Nor if a rhyme happens to fall,
A poem's not a poem not at all,
To a spider writer on the wall.

....

The air this morning is full of winter
Although it's still summer hot
Things are all mixed up; topsy-turvy:
Not one baked potato in the lot!



The door is half shut;
White clouds float by
in skies of blue...
In meditation we leave the
flames of desire for the
coolness of let-go,
And it feels like the joy of
Cascades of cool falling waters
flowing over an upturned face
after a day of sweating and
toiling in the heat of a
mid-summer sun.
...


Today a burning stick of wood
flickering the campfire
turns itself into incense;
It's fragrance
drifts through the trees.
The mountain peaks reach up to
touch the rising sun.
True, they pointed my way to here.
For a cup of warmth to drink,
I burn sticks of deadwood in a
pool of firelight by the trail.
...
...

Around tall stalks of goldenrod an indistinct path.
Walking slowly, watching a butterfly on the birdbath
I sprinkle out little piles of seeds on the ground
Feeling how the wind is making the trees wave around.
There's a promise here that today is forever turning
My mind grows still; my heart is free from yearning.




Of all the pleasurable beauties on land and sea,
there is none nor could there ever be
There's no place on earth more better to be
than in a forest that's near the sea. ... :-)


Into the thick darkness of the woods
a pool of sunlight falls,
making a magnificent drama
where the voice of a
songbird calls
Leaves of trees sparkle green
their trunks glow bright and strong
The ferns and fronds on the forest floor
bask in it's warmth all day long
---------------------------------------------
A pool of sunlight falls into
the thick darkness of
morning making a magnificent
drama!
The voice of a waking songbird calls;
Dewy-wet leaves of trees sparkle.

Sunrise!
------------------------------------------



As understanding deepens,
knowing fades into
deeper vaults
of vast mystery
...

A long time went by
Years of plum blossoms and snow
Practicing daily
In a grove of towering tulip trees
Beside the chipola river
Smoke curls upward from a
small campfire;
In wispy fragrance it rises
and mingles with
the lasting taste of spring.


...
TODAY is still here,?
The sun just woke up
a little while ago, and when it
went down to sleep and I did too,
I thought today was over,
but here it is daylight again,
sunshining again, and
it's still today!

...
Today
Great People
from times past who left
their footprints on the hill,
Who grew old with frost,
wind, cold mountains and
green forests,
Who listened to these same pines
stirring, rustling quietly in
summer breezes,
These old ones lead us on.
...Just before dawn we hear
waterfalls,
We are refreshed by
their cool dampness,
We see green moss growing all
over the rocks on each side of
the indistinct path and we know
We are almost there.

...

Today rain clouds drip
on roof scattered around
all over the ground
Steam rising from bayou
...

TODAY the coffee pot boiled over
boiled over I say.
The other day our house blowed away
So today we're camping in the yard, and
the coffee pot boiled over on
the fire we made
in the shade
of that old magnolia tree

...




Today is...
a day like no other day
i've ever seen before...
how strange that a day could
be so much the same and yet so
very different.

...

Home has feelings all colored
with traces of harmony
Even when stormy weather
beats down the doors
breaks all the windows
and smashes trees through
the roof, causing those inside
to flee, the moment the storm
is over they return.
Because.
Home is sweet.

...


Sincerety's a soft sound
of what's in this old hut
Not a bell, not the wind
Not rain spattering the roof
nor the voice of a beloved
companion.
Only this.

...

It is still night
The window panes are dark
In all sincerety, I think
Outside I hear a lark
If I'm not wrong, it's singing a song
About mysteries made in space
Now the window's aglow
I don't think I know
If it's the moon the dark or the lark...

...

Yay or Nay is here
north, east, south, west.
Based on rock solid steadiness,
A sparkle in an eye,
Green castles grow on dry rocks!
After three days of rain,
Life lept up again.

...

He was told:
"If you can't think of something good to say,
Don't say anything at all."
Well, he could think of so many good things to
say, that words poured out of his mouth in
such a tumultous flood that it wore us out.
Exhausted us.
Completely.
In unison, we yelled:
"Shut UP!"
silence is golden

...
Out in the fields, not a tree in sight
Except for three old oaks by the door
One in the back and two in the front
Grown from old acorns of yore
(Planted by grandpap they say
Back in some old forgotten day)
Noontime. Dinner's done. It's hot
out there.
Here I lie.
On the porch under the acorn's growth.
All sprawled out. Head propped on arm.
A young'un grown up on a farm.
Dreaming and scheming, yearning and burning,
My thoughts go around and around,
And though you can't see it, there it is.
Churning and burning and turning around.
I'm boiling over with a passion for life;
I'm thinking of what will I find,
my body is quiet, but my thoughts are not,
Here in the windmill of my mind.

...

Yes it's September again
How many's gone by now?
A hundred?
Bazillions?
Ten? Fifty? even more?
Or Less?
Any at all?
The sun rises; the sun sets.
See?
There's an old river
And another new moon
There's the silent sound of snow
There's a lot of green trees
And flowers left over from summer
But soon the green will go
September the word is just a word
Different for everyone
But September the September
Is This! It's September!
...

TODAY I opened my door
Saw something never seen before
I had no idea
what it was
Everytime I turn around
there it is
clouds all scattered from the sky
whatever this is, it is I!

...

A shooter shot an arrow into the air
And where it might go didn't care
But it flew over the hill straight at a bear
With long sharp teeth and claws that tear
And the arrow by law had to land somewhere
It could'nt stay forever up in the air
Any shooter who knows would not dare
To shoot an arrow blindly into the air

...

Last thought in mind,
"Nam Myoho Renge Kyo,"
Woke up one hour later
with eight hours deep sleep.
...

Oiled up the old wheels
Rolled 'em out on the road
Pointed them up to the mountain
Took a deep breath
Hopped up onto the saddle
Pedaled.
Slowly, steadily
up the sloping green hill.
Don't know much about guitars
but soon my strings began to hum
Green hills, green mind
Left the valleys far behind
Crossed an ocean ended up at home
Just Sitting
...



we made us an igloo
down florida way
we built it of pine boughs
woven to stay
when it rained it rained raindrops
no ice cubes fell from the sky
but we had plenty of honeycomb
from a hollow tree nearby
that made life sweet, that
honey we got from the bees,
and we picked up good times like
flowers from under the trees.


One day,
Perhaps today
When you pick up your
Brushes and paint what you see
Perhaps the very act itself
Will transform flames into flakes
Cold, white, frostily delicious
Snowflakes
Landing lightly, softly
Along lacy green treetops
Transforming
Nightmare flames to
Glowing candles
lighting the way
through peaceful sleep
into dreams
that's always sweet.
...

so when you're falling asleep at night
let the last thing in mind you see
be the words; "sweet dreams..." :-)
written on the moon to you from me.
:-)
.............................

Things change so fast that by the time we say they are, they are no longer are...
Automatic Contradiction!



Today there's cliffs to climb
Up to where mists make clouds
And gardens grow untended
A towering green forest
Rising into rocky crests
Dawn shadows still drift
Across a sleepy mind
Awaking without a care
...
A man with a guitar on his knee
Singing a song of the fate of
Little children,
Who for no reason we can see
Are born then suffer and die
And that poor man with guitar in hand
Can only do nothing but cry.

...

All of our tiny huts are
on this little island in the
middle of this lake.
They are back a little way from
the water's edge.
We walk the winding paths daily,
and dip the lake's clean, clear
water for a cool drink.
Look at these
long-limbed willow trees;
We sit beneath them
in the moonlight.
Sometime we stay all night talking,
singing, sleeping, then together we
watch the sun rise up in the morning.
-

...

Some kinda light like a lighthouse globe
Turning;
Some kinda blaze like a sun in a sky
Burning;
Basically perfect and complete in
Itself,
Like a rare and beautiful object of art
On a mahogany shelf;
Ships lost at sea see it flashing and turning,
Then turn about with hopeful yearning;
That this is the port they were looking to find
While watching the windmill of their mind

...

The day has not ended
Nor has the day begun
Days go around and around
It's always Today
Stay awake and you'll see



mossy green cool wet rocks
soaking in mist from spray
waterfalls tumble whitely cold
down from high and far away
down to the flowers in a park
down to the grist in a mill
down to where meadowlarks pray
and down to the whippoorwill
the meaning of life is written
in the pages of nature's book
on every leaf of every tree
and everywhere we look.
...
.......

As I type these words
I am mindful of this one moment
Surrounded by the whole universe
I clearly see this small part.

And as I ponder the meaning,
Becoming lost in the wonder of it all
Surrounded by the whole universe
I notice one golden sunbeam falling on the floor

Finally moving on to click "send" and post this note
Being finished with the intention at hand, and
Surrounded by the whole universe
I freely flow along in the here and now.
.................

On the highest peak
sometime there's snow
sometime there's not.
Snowfalls melt and fall
tumble, rush and run
over rocks,
under them too,
around, around,
over and through
down to the valley
far below
Where fields and farms
and green grasses grow.
On and on the waters go.
Past Mema's Home,
Past Little Town,
From the highest peak,
Rivers flow down
to finally end up eventually
back in the same old deep blue sea
It's the old, old story
so many times told
the highest peak appears
When clouds unfold.


For good reason
or no reason at all
water flows over
the waterfall
And for some reason
it never flows up
and over the edge
of a drinking cup

----
But that's not to say
it never will
The cup sits empty
on the window sill
---


ababa chi baba si wewa
si senora y mi po madre
ababa de baba de baba
ditty doe por mi po padre




No matter where I go,
or what I see,
Or whatever happens
To fall on me
I'm always here,
It's always now
I do not see
The why or how
I only see
The here and now.

reality rests in
little flyaway puffs
propelled and steered
by
the no-thing-ness of something

.......

Windy wind blow big waves up over dunes
wash away sandcastles, driftwood,
green and white striped unbrellas,
chunks of burnt charcoal, flotsam. jetsam.
Wash all the beaches clean;
In fact, wash away the beach.
...
J.B. found a pile of loose change
scattered on the sand,
now there's a happy little boy
with some spending money in his hand.
.......

Preservation Hall:
It's not gone
It's high and dry
It's still there
This is why:
Those dusty old guys
With their dusty old horns
Fingerbones on the piano,
Steadysticks on the drums.
St. James Infirmary Blues,
That's why.

.......

On misery island
day after day after day
help is on the way
eternities pass
some die some cry
help is on the way
on the way
on the way
forever on the way

will help never arrive?

.......

All day today the sun shone into my tiny home,
One red begonia glowing brightly in the window.
Outside a hundred year old oak tree;
On the wall, several old pictures painted
by long ago.
There's a little modern-day stove, but nothing is
cooking.
Tonight a pool of moonlit silence bathes my open door.

.......

Fly
From no thought
Into no thought
Mind from no mind
In a trice not to think twice
lightning strikes quicker than
the blink of an eye
No time to think a thought
Open up wings
Fly.



MotherEarth
Will win
In the end;
Then
All hand and skin.
Must begin
All over again...



I love the sea and all that goes with it,
The sun, the sand, the white clouds flying,
My spirit's drawn by the running tides
And the call of sea gulls crying,...



Fog covers earth and sky
Silent Sources concealed inside
An invisible world
Then all of a sudden
The sun comes out.
Fog disappears.
Where did it go?

An old crone loves a daily walk
Along a winding trail.
Wall street trades in stocks and bonds,
But she picks purple violets.


Today we stay outside
Until time for brunch
A towering pile of white clouds
Cast invisible shadows
Across the breakfast nook
We munch, munch
Bodies clean and clear
Minds without a care


Det gartner dared in
danish to curse the
innocent little flower dandelion
"Confounded, bloody,
damned, dandelion," said he!
Fandens mælkebøtte! Oh No,
Not at all, a tall! Never!" said she,
det elder husmoder
as she determinedly arranged the
centerpiece, the
golden yellow,
mild and mellow
innocent little Summer Weed
Upon the table's lace
Where shining like the sun
Upon the diners everyone
At the stroke of eight,
They leaned down over their plate
Greedily gobbled and ate
Every single one of
Lille mælkebøtte's først kusines,
hver eneste mors sjæl!
The lifesaving dutch Kartoffels!!


I cannot make light
of this art,
because here
you have painted
this perfect depiction of
a lifelong dream:
when at long last
it's time to die,
crumble down slowly
blend in with
earth's forest floor-
deliciously
into and with
crumbling leaves,
face turned down slightly
and to the right,
last breath filled with
the sweet aroma of
fresh rain filled breeze
and loamy leaves.


things change
like opening
of buds into blooms
blooms and leaves
into falling off the trees
into buds and blooms
and green things growing
spring springing into
summer
sun heating up skyhigh
sweat falling from brow
into fresh dug earth
dropping seeds___
"one for the blackbird
one for the crow
one for the cutworm and
one to grow."



Once upon a time in a very small zoo
In Florida
somewhere in some small town,
Near a Navy Base;
I stood alone on clean swept,
grassless ground.
I stood still, deep in thought, staring at a
Myna bird perched on a bare leafless limb in a
stupidly small cage no bigger than some people's
closet.
Stood there gazing and gawking shamelessly,
openly, so lost in wonderment about how, why, and
if such a creature could truly talk as some people say,
so lost in thought I almost dropped in shock when said
bird suddenly turned,
looked me stone-cold straight in the eye,
eyeball-to-eyeball, and in a voice plain and clear,
plenty loud enough for anyone to hear,
In a voice dripping with scorn,
That bird said to me, "What you looking at!?
_____________________________________

Yesterday old man skaggawal the politician ,
who drank like a fish,
went to bed alive and kicking.
this morning he woke up dead;
upon hearing of his demise, one of his opponents,
ms. teetotalique, was heard to remark,
"Drat!!! Old skaggawal commits the ultimate
flip-flop
and I can't use it against him!"





A lone white seagull soars the ocean skies
Endless flights reflected in it's eyes
Carefree, the white bird flying speaks a
timeless call to all:
Come fly the flight too light to fall.


Journey without end:
I climb these hills
As if walking on air
Body too light to fall
Bamboo staff resting
Against a great stone
Torn cloak snapping in the wind
A lone bird soars the azure depths
Far distant springs reflected in its eye
Carefree, singing a timeless song
Gone, on a journey without end.

- Shih-shu (17th century-early 18th)
4.25.2004


There's a vine growing
With many, many branches
Individuals

Every single branch
With it's many, many leaves
Individuals

Every single leaf
With' it's many, many cells
Individuals

All the leaves and twigs
And all they are made up of
Are one. Are the vine.
-//\\-



..
over the weeks a camp
started out naturally damp
will last twentyfive age years older out of twenty
to be certain that would be a big plenty
to be no age actually, or not the case
in the entire scenario
not float in air though
no longer a guest
set upon a quest
for chinquapin's growing out where it's snowing
to be toasted there in an open fire
questions unsealed
~revealed~
-//\\-


internally visible in the eye
object
dropping a tear
sound in ear
from little branches
twittering or
melodies sweet
tasteing a treat
touch a clean cotton pillow
let a face sink into it's softness
and rest a while.
-//\\-




travel to the corner
at the end of the road
not far from the pier
where the cold fresh water swirls
around the piling
the wood is well preserved,
bleached almost white by
summer sun, rain and sandy feet
collapse there on those wide
hot boards, soak up their heat,
a bundle of nothing,
you watch the windmill of your mind
_______________

I traveled to the end of the road,
where the warm, fresh water swirls
around the piling of the pier.
The wood was swell preserved,
bleached almost white by
summer sun, rain, and sandy feet.
I collapsed there on those wide, hot,
boards, soaking up their heat.
A bundle of nothing, I watched the
windmill of my mind.



It was scary, the change
then...exhilarating..
discuss the situation
then think of going to the beach
it's hot outside, not like Christmas...
Everything's different.
Water...
the essence of life.
Pearls drop slowly.
-//\\-


icicles cling tightly to
eaves not dripping
freezing longer and longer
snow piling higher and higher
in the wood lot
where long chunks wait
for the fireplace

snowlit night brighter than day
where the moon shines into
the southern window while yet the sun
hangs low in the northern sky

reflecting
-//\\-

A northern night came creeping
coming in a time of no sleeping
A ghostly form sat on a floor
A shadowy Poe of never more
When what to be an odd surprise
Two shadows appear
Before the eyes:
Sun in the west sinking low
Cast it's shadow faint,
At the same time a rising moon
Fainter still though quaint
Climed the horizon to abide
And make a shadow the other side!

(A Sinking sun and rising moon
Will wake the loon very soon.)

(Others have probably seen this many times but I have seen it only once. The sun stayed high enough
above the horizon to cast a faint shadow, and the
moon came up bright enough on the other side to
cast a shadow, So there I sat: looking at my shadow, first on one side then the other. I didn't think to introduce them! Hahahahahaa..:-)











scrolling all over the place
through cold, hot, yay, nay,
all the opposites of samenesses
green trees
rocks of all colors and colors
of all how many spectrums are there
of observational senses of all kinds to
little grey rodents,
animals that live in grass
and in grass huts go
scrolling, scrolling, scrolling
all over splace
-//\\-


scrolling up and down
mostly, but sometimes sideways
peripheral eyes
-//\\-

my heart burns like fire
blazing leaves raked up from lawn
into coming frost
-//\\-

Raindrops drop on leaves
straining delicious foods for babies
through tiny sieves
romping and playing with a furry dog
in meadows of mysterious mornings
softened by the softness of
the fog that crept in on
Carl Sandburg's catpaws....
-//\\-

on path
toward no
attainment
looking back
at none
ending up same
as not begun

Unknown artist on path toward no attainment
looking back at none
ending up all the same at the end as not begun
wondering is never seen the same as never done?



not knowing each moment
what will be next
watch events flow
come and go
from here
there
everywhere
and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like flames flickering
on a hearth
like logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
only a little longer...
all events flow
all come,
All go....
-//\\-
:-)

drops of rain in face
waking in middle of night
to seek warm shelter
-//\\-

Back in November
Of the year two-thousand-one
May ending next week
These Words coming up
Every Thousand years or so
When winter is cold
Always new un-said
Until a heart opens up
Back in November
Of any year of thousands
Any day in May.
-//\\-



I'm not here today
I'm way out there who knows where;
In misty light space;
Out in the wild blue yonder.
Not here. Not today. Not now.



The evening bay appears
Smooth.
Like a shimmering sheet of glass.
Suddenly a speed boat appears,
The shattered shards of waning light
Carry away the day.






Twenty miles or more
Deep into the woods,
One little lopsided cabin.
Looks deserted,
Not a soul to be seen.
Front door open: look in,
There's a table before the fire,
All set and ready for supper.
The firebox is piled high with little logs;
Perhaps you have gone hiking or
Out to bathe in the summer stream?
I wanted to see you for a while,
To pass the time of day, to talk of
this and that;
I sit down on a log to wait.
Looking all around I smell the pines, the
shiny green grass still wet from fresh rain;
What a moment!
A harmony that is
Profound like none other.
Heart, ear,
perfectly in tune with your
Presence. Your pure thought.
Self completely washed clean,
Purpose fulfilled, I head on back home.
Although I didn't see you, I feel as if I did,





Eons of years pass in a flash
Endless rivers of springs follow
Winters of discontent which then
Burn into summers of passionate pain.
Until at last:
Old habits of thinking
Grasping, clinging
Crying for tomorrow
Are effectively overcome.
Serenity glows goldenly
In a refreshing New October.
-sef


Back Yard:
In the city
Something dark, cold and dirty,
paved with stone,
where on a cold winter's day
clothes on the line will
freeze stiff and won't dry.
Those sheets of ice with
sleeves, pockets and collars will
have to be carried down to
the basement beside the cold heat of
clanky old steam pipes;
Perhaps after a week of hanging limp and
Sunless,
One of them will appear outside again all
fresh and blue,
100% cotton denim,
Warm.
On a little boy's skinny legs
flailing happily along, in, on, around,
and through thick, fresh-fallen snow.
The Back Yard in the city is
no longer dark, cold and dirty.
-sef/odmmb


no matter how old we get,
no matter what our station in life,
we're always checking out the time
whether it's with clocks, watches,
sun dials, hour glasses, tv, radio,
friends, relatives, stars, suns, the sky
or whatever,...we're always checking
the time...even during the darkest hour
of night, if we wake up, the first thing
we think of is what time it is...we are
timeless, we know it matters not what
time it is, yet we have to know what
time it is...
clock watching has become so ingrained
in our psyche that it has become like
breathing.-- we do it automatically without
being conscious of it...

______________________________


The world and all that's in it
inspires a soul to win it
with songs and smiles
and pasture fence stiles
skyscrapers tall
paper on wall
Make Something! Make Something!
Nature screams constantly,
Make Something!
We oblige.


___________________________________-

Nature obliges our every scream
She makes come true our every dream
"Make something!, make something!",
In unison we sing...

And oh how beautifully she's working too...
Lining green leaves with crystallized dew
_____________________________________


Mounds of earth shaped into forms of
many sizes and configurations cover
a space of land behind the field. Seeds.
Plants. Rocks. Planks. Sand. Who knows
what other medium will go into this
project on-going as the artist thinks and
rethinks, then rethinks again this most
beautiful creation. Eventually, after it is
finished, copters will hover overhead
many days positioning the master
photographer, as at the same time other
cameras are snapping on the ground. Visitors
will stream in by the thousands to wander
around awestruck as they become one with
this most wondrous creation. Oh!
What an ambitious undertaking! But the
artist must satisfy this overwhelming urge
to create...in just this one particular way.
-//\\-

Mounds of earth shaped like
big cigars
Lay out there side by side
Covered with monkey grass
Pebbles.
Grains of sand.
Sea gulls fly overhead making
Sounds that lift eyes from
Mounds to sky.
That's the last thing we saw today:
A seagull flew so far and high
That it disappeared into the sky.
...
Outta Sight, Man!
If you see me down the street
walking
don't stop and offer me no ride
in that shiny up-to-date
automobile
that you don't even have to push
to get it cranked up to run!
And don't whistle the wolf thing
at me as you go by neither.
just drive on down to the tasty-freeze
and wait.
(I'll be there in a minute.)

another year
jus went zooming on by...
how many is that?
they blend into one
all those years past
Burnt by the sun in summer
Delighted by color in fall
All those years are a blur
And we're just passing through, is all...
Time being frozen in winters
Then melting into another spring,
Like birds' migrating the seasons
We're juss passin' thru on a wing...


_______________________________________


Green valleys disappear
Into blue mountains' creeping cold
The maraschino cherry
The ice cream sundae
fade into the distant mist
They follow no secret recipes.


_____________________________________

It gives me an ache in my head
To think of eating stone-baked bread
Remembering the time my grandma fed
That kind of bread to me and Fred:
We'd been out camping all week long
All the fuel in our stove long gone
So she said she'd cook right or wrong
On a great big rock called "Old King Kong"
She built up a fire on King Kong's belly
Heated it hotter'n the lava-like jelly
That seethed and bubbled back Plum Nelly
All the way back to the DeeLite Deli,
She piled on the dough she'd kneaded all day
Along with the acorns that got in the way,
Not to mention the droppings of an old bluejay
And we very well knew there'd be you-know-what to pay
If we didn't eat that grimy mucked up mess
Concocted by that dear old hag in a dress
And to this day I have to confess
The dread in my head for bread is no less!
:-)

________________________________________
Before the gathered waters, tall pines,
Millions of green needles glittering,
Murmuring along swiftly the stream,
Otters dip and dive and glisten
They know the river
Without knowing they know...

__________________________________

Old Jim wuz gazing with a
Faraway look in his eye
At them pictures one day and
His lifelong mate Jane asked,
"If you were going to live there
At that Grand Site,
Would you rather live up high
on the rim,
Or down deep in the canyon?
If you lived in the bottom
Would you ever climb up and out,
And if you lived up above would
you ever wind your way down?
"Well now,"
Old Jim with a twinkle replied,
" that probably depends on
If I had a whirly bird for a donkey!
_______________________________________


Hhahaaha.... wonderful passage from Erasmus
Farther down on the lpage is something that
gives me a little chance to play around with it a bit
. ... :-)

But let none of you expect from me that
after the manner of perfectly normal people,
I should go about to define what I am,
much less use any practicality; for I hold it
equally unlucky to circumscribe her whose
prowess is universal, or make the
least division of comparison between
magazine models and peanut farmers that
worship about which everything
is so generally agreed.
Or to what purpose, think you,
should I describe myself when
I am here present before you,
and you behold me speaking?
For I am, as you see, that true nut,
whom the Groups call NickNames,
and in plain English,
what you might call "tetched in the head."
However, what need was there to have said so much,
as if my very words are not sufficient to inform you who I am?
Or as if anyone, mistaking me for not a nut, could not at first
sight of my blather convince himself by my very words the
true index of my mind?
I am not counterfeit,
I do not carry one thing in my words and an other in my breast.
No, I am in every respect so like myself
(NUTZ!)
that neither can they
Deny nor Affirm
But like a little worm
They'll wiggle out
Casting shadows of doubt
Neither with nor without
Their Slivery Silver
NutCrackers!
hahhaaaa :-)

---------------------

Dark and light
Day and night
Spectrums, shadows, and show.
Inside and outside
Humility and pride
Sweet, sour, ebb, and flow
The eyes of the Artist see is and was
They never, ever sleep
For the Eyes of the Artist have their root
In the land of the faceless deep.
-//\\-

___________________________________



Early morning walk so blissful
Until face and head and hair
Caught up all of a sudden in an
Unseen night-spider-web
Turbulence!
Arms and hands flailing around a
Sputtering spitting mouth
Eeee...uuuuu...!
There's a Spider in the Sky!!!
:-)

_____________________________


The moon's over Miami they say,
Pulling and tugging the tide
They say the moon makes madness
(They say we can't hide.)
(from the moon)

But little do they know that Miami
Is only a village on the beach
And the moon riding high over Miami
Is way, way out of our reach

So git outta here man, with your premises,
Unless you're the man in the moon,
Go give your grilled cheese sandwiches
To a lake-woe-be-gone loon.
-//\\- :-)

_______________________________

So here we are
on the path
traveling along
constantly on the move
watching
the scenery change from moment
to moment.
Moving on.
... ... ... ... ... ... ...
As in a dream we travel on
Then one day we wake up knowing
That here is where we'll always be
For where we are is where we're going.
_________________________________

That brings a vision to mind
That poem of the gated gate
Of a man with a guitar on his knee
Singing a song of the fate
Of little children, for no reason we can see
Who are born then suffer and die
And that poor man with guitar in hand
Can only do nothing but cry.



Taking refuge not in things
Like cars and clothes and homes
But finding where there's peace of mind
Within ourselves alone
Taking refuge then in peace
Within that silent sound
From that place within
Peace flows out around


Up in the barn loft
Peeking out through a knothole
At fields and meadows

In the ebb and flow
Where we live but do not dwell
Home is in our heart



I like the idea of a gateless gate
It reminds me of my childhood home
Protectively defined by a fence around the yard
With a gate on the front walk
And another gate out back
But neither gate had a gate on it
:-)

in a gentle dream
with sweet illusions floating
light and shadows form
-s


One last red rose in October
Then lo and behold!
One pink rose in November...
One white rose for winter?
...
Flowers in spring,
The whip-poor-will in summer.
All year long fluttering along on
the wings of the little grey dove.
Begin with snow
or begin with red maple leaves
or plum blossoms
or once again back to the
red, red rose of summer...
-//\\-

The ship we sailed
Has long since gone
No Trace Remains
We stand alone
Upon this isle
Of dusty clay
Where we will stand
For just a day.


Don't know the ancient words
Nor how to use them in text
Don't know what is revealed
Nor what is coming next.

But as for this right now
Smelling something cooking
Raising eyes up to the sky
Looking, looking, always looking.

Thinking thoughts pour in and out
As ancient texts reveal
Of all that's written on the wind
It is the now I know and feel.
-//\\-


my own experiences,
I wouldn't be afraid to bet
have been experienced by other
people I haven't even met
and everything I've felt for sure's
been felt so many times
that it's no wonder every little breeze
blows a rhyme that rhymes!


What wonderful daydreams! Ah....to be sure:

A sandcastle would be perfect
bare feet to walk around
a little while to tarry there
then mosey on back to town
rummage up and down the back streets
then out to the boulevard
watch the pounding of chestnuts
in somebody's back yard
After that it's off to the forest
where rivers run swift and cold
mossy green coolness in the shadows
birdwings flashing gold
No there is no castle on the earth
can ever hope to compare
with the way we constantly build:
Our castles in the air.
:) -s
______________________________

This lowly painter,
he painted walls
wearing multicolored boots
and coveralls
he painted parts and ships
and water towers
his pay was average,
reckoned by the hours
lightheaded from fumes
rising from the bucket,
he recited limericks
about girls from nantucket
And although playful
and famous for flirting
he never was one
for outside skirting
while wielding brushes
and painting the world
reams of writing
from his brain unfurled
steady streams
from his fingers flowed
out o'er the internet
his seeds were sowed
He posted poems
and playful teasing
wonderful stories
and essays pleasing
paintings pure
his scanner turned in
animations and movies
filled his bin
This dynamo,
this painter by trade
got to work
and got ART made
but as far as Fame
and Fortune and such
like the lowly carpenter of Nazareth,
he didn't have much
(YET!!!)

____________________________


The conditions today are Optimal for
finding the art in the knots
Untangled, unsnarled, they fall into place
Out on the moor with the
barbed-wire bots
The deep blue sea is swept up on shore
Up to the top of the hill
Mary and Maggie and Billy and Bo
All paid the piper with swill
Then landed on Mars, in the dusty red dirt
They picked up a crumpled candy wrap
By gosh, by golly, by gee,
They drew on the back a great big map
On an outer, outer crater life lay asleep
Waiting to be kissed alive
So they CPR'd the whole motley lot
'Til they got 'em in overdrive.
The Conditions now Optimum
They made a little art,
snapping all over the place
Skipping and hopping
(gravity free!)
They left not a track
nor a trace.
:-)

_______________________________


Sailing the seven seas
Coming and going, hither and yon
Riding high on blue-green waves
Cutting through flotsam and jetsam
Aye! Set your Ship in motion,
stand tall at the till
Sail into Ports of sentient beings
with that precious cargo:
Good Will!
______________________________________

As I imagine spontaneously
Ought my imagining be obligatory,
Or automatically a mechanical
Reciprocity
Bouncing off the walls
Or off the man-in-the-moon
When the whip-poor-will
calls on a Crosby to croon,
But No. Not Likely!
However,
Imagining individuals burdened economically
by off-the-wall indulgences and activitiea that
insofar as all shall abstain from any public
opinion intended to limit imaginary imaginings,
they are hitherto known as DirtClod.
Or Justa Biggo Chunkadawg.
:-) s

___________________________________
another beginner's verse
but first to repeat.
so true.

a beginner now
though old and gray
a beginner i'll be
on my last day

So though it's true as Cold Mountain said,
"the shadow of a single tumbleweed trembles,"
It would be much more painful to sew my stitches,
Were it not for the invention of thimbles.

So.

Let green grass grow
Let milk cows low
Out in the barnyard late
Unseen, Unheard
Back and Forth
Through an invisible gateless gate.
-s

___________________________--

Twigs, Eggs, and Boggy Bayous:

Once a bud, now a twig
what will we be later
a full grown tree we will be
and Dino will be a gator.
Then in a lake far away
we'll take our last repose
when some hard wind
comes blowing in
Ain't that the way it goes.


Suns and moons together shining
Sending our senses wining and dining
Upon the nectar of what could be
If our imaginings were what we see.
All at once it's cold
And hot.
Sugar, Sand, Snow
Are not
Where only ideas are what will be
For what we think is what we see.
...s



silent one

__that's the one we'd like to be
yeah, we'd like to be free
of a tongue that's loose
wagging from both ends
boring everyone to death,
family and friends...
but alas! silence is dearth
voices ring out over all the earth
thunder and lightening
rain and snow
voices pouring
wherever we go
upon our ears
and over our lips
noise and more noise
floods and drips

But never mind, never fear
Silence itself is always here
Filling the spaces in between
Sound and Silence hear and see:
We are the ones we are to be
___________________________________

Today the sun hides
Behind winter's cold wetness
Let's build a hearth fire
~ ~
This morning while tramping
My imaginary snow three feet deep
I came upon enchanted woods
Where they say some little people sleep
The snow was melted away
Imaginary violets peeked out
All over the forest floor
The sun was shining
down through misty mist
A sight never seen before
Long glowing rays of beams of light
Streaked through trees so fine and rare
I held my breath for the longest time
Just for the joy of being there ...
-sef



zen navigation:
put up the sails,sit back
feel the choppy waters rocking the boat
see the flock of white birds skirting clouds in the sky
hear how wavelets lap the sides of the boat and
the flapping sound wind makes in sails
smell the air fresh and sweet
taste the taste of sweaty heat
feel the deck beneath your feet
Be fully aware of Being's Beat!
Hold the till loosely, swing and sway,
Live life fully from day to day... :-)

...But let a summer squall appear on the
horizon and see what happens...
No more hammock
No more sleep
Batten down the hatches!
That bay is deep
Don't wanta slide
under the tide
adrenalin's flowing
over the side,
to and fro
no calm no mo
don't wanta go
don't wanta slip
don't wanta go
down with the ship!

human nature clings
like tendrils of green vines
to it's hold on life
-//\\-

I stand alone for a minute in the very same space where you stand alone and listen to your winter night where the clumps of snow fall from the heavy-laden branches.

In your early morning spring solitude, I sit alone on the porch in my shirtsleeves drinking in the freshness of spring and listening to the joyful singing of a mockingbird somewhere nearby.

On your summer walk where you listen to the whirring of the cicadas and locusts I walk along that very same path slapping my bare-child-feet down into the dry dust delighting in the way it makes little puffy clouds shoot up from between my toes.

In the silence of Autumn, one huge red oak leaf glowing red like an ember in the slanting sunlight, left all alone, still clinging to it's empty limb.


Winter could be spent
listening to whisper of snowflakes
falling into the silence of
evergreens' waiting arms.
Following slushy wet footprints
through deep, white snowfalls;
Scribbling lines on pages of birchbark
making up things like this
about living in the mountains,
while sipping sassafras tea
steaming hot and sweetened with
wild honey..
aye, but far from being an escape
from the ordinary world, this
solitudinous mountain life
is an ordinary world....
-//\\-



one bright star, the sun
out there this morning
turning all the leaves and twigs
and sprigs of icy grass
into glittering glass ...



All day today cool air came in
puffing itself along through leaves
turning colors, snapping twigs,
felling old birdnest's
summer weaves
down to floor of forest heap
piling up places for squirrels to creep
freshening the air that only last week
was so hot and humid we couldn't sleep
a beautiful day!


Rivulets running
down the window pane
washing clean the view:

Oh what a beautiful morning!
For ducks!
But also for me and my garden
for me and my lake
for me and my falling leaves
gathered in my rake.
Pulling up the covers
I snuggle in my bed
to snooze a little longer
to dream inside my head.
while streaming waters fall
outside my window sill
I love the lazy mornings
I think I always will!



Winter is not real. It's imaginary.
No way man. Water can't do
things like that. You know, like turn
into big white fluffy puffs of softness
That's not as cold as it's
made out to be, and
No little warm-blooded creatures
With tiny stick feet
and little hearts no bigger than a dime
could live if it ever got that cold so
No way man.
No way.
Don't try to fool me, man. I know
winter's not real.
It's imaginary.
...uh...right?



peace is everywhere even
on the battle field this morning as i
lay cold and wet in my foxhole listening
to the thunder blasting bombs and big
guns spitting and recoiling i rolled my
head back onto a pillow of muck and
looked up into the blue sky above for
one last time before I closed my eyes and
drifted off into green meadows warm
sunshine the sound of mockingbirds
singing love songs rustling spring
green leaves among clouds of white
plum blossoms ...


the whole universe,
alltogether
is made up of all kinds of stuff
which taken all-together is just
"stuff"
and of this stuff all kinds of different
things form and unform
constantly
we and mountains and rivers,
sand and clouds and burning
gasses, mud and muck and
blood and guts and flowers,
sweet perfumes and blue skies,
sunny days, roots, snowdrops,
everything beautiful and everything ugly,
all we think is good and all we think is bad,
Each and every self is all made
of that same stuff...No Self... :-)


Over there in the fog,
The trees are green as grass.
Higher up, the white clouds of
Sunny, blue-sky days
Are whiter than white


on path
of no attainment
looking back at none
ending up is all the same
not to end, not begun

not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here
and there
and everywhere
and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like flames flickering
on a hearth
like logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
only a little longer...
all events flow
all come,
All go....
-//\\-




no not any more
no more hanging out the wash
wash all dried inside
-//\\-
march wind blowing sweet
wash on clothesline billowing
smell of cleanliness
-//\\-
___________________________________________________________________For a number of years I have lived on the outskirts
of town...ignorant as the writer above of the world's
rise and fall
Warmed at night also by a stove
but mine had gas jets
and I was satisfied at mealtime
Not of wild plants, but ones grown domestically
on the farms of the country.
I sat on kitchen chairs, not rocks
I did watch clouds and empty thoughts
I did patch my robe...
I have tried to practice silence
and it's easy enough to do when I am alone,
but when with others...
I talk, they talk.
but yes,....
I do still hang out my wash
-//\\-


made of cotton
no synthetic known to man
silk was for wealthy

The old washplace
had a little shelter built.
Closed in on the north and the east
open on the south and the west.
a bench along the north side long enough
to hold five #2 galvanized washtubs
all lined up in a row.
There was a water pump with a long handle
off about ten feet to the side
and near that was a wash pot
all black with soot and having three legs
and also along with those a thing
called a battling block
It was a big chunk about three feet high
cut from the trunk of a huge oak tree
(which had furnished many a handy thing
for the house like tables, chairs, etc.)
There was also a battling stick make of oak
A scrub board which was also made of oak,
with a heavy-duty piece of corrugated metal
encased. it's two legs went ito the tub and it's body
against the side
huge bars of home made soap were there.
(they were made of Lye from Ashes soaked in water and strained
and hog lard all boiled than left to cool
it would become hard, and cut into blocks.)
The kids had to pump bucket after bucket of water to fill
all the five tubs and the boiling pot.
The Mama would first scrub the white things, sheets, shirts, etc.
on the scrub board with the soap in the first tub.
The water would be boiling in the pot where she'd put the clothes,
punching, punching them once in a while
and scrubbing the colored, like overalls and other shirts, and such.
After that, she'd take the first clothes from the pot, one piece at a time
with the battling stick and put it on the battling block, and beat it
and beat it and beat it,
then put it in the second tub which would be the first rinse water
then she would dip, them up and down, and wring them out and put
them into the tubs one at a time rinsing them altogether through four
tubs of rinse water.
Then take them to the nearby clothesline and hang them up to dry.
The family always had nice, clean, sundried clothes to wear.
-//\\-




Washday

pulling up buckets and buckets and buckets
of water from the well
five tubs full
washboard.
scrub scrub
bars of home made soap
scrub scrub
fire under black pot
boiling whites first
then colored
beating with battling stick
on battling block
carry dripping to rinse tubs
scrub board
scrub scrub scrub
tub to tub to clean water tub
rinse dip dip dip turn
rinse rinse rinse
wring out all water
hang on line
all day wind and sunshine
sleep all night
on fresh, clean smell of
all outdoors
-//\\-


Zoom out the universe
Until you realize
The formlessness of things.

--

Along the way
listen to the music
of wind
strumming the strings
of pine needles
towering over head
along a winding road,
bare feet running;
leafy autumn carpet
soft from midight's rain.

....................
Along the way, listen!
Listen to the sound
Of falling leaves,
Falling in silence
From over head.
Bare feet
Quietly tread
Leafy autumn carpets
Soft since last night's rain
...
Along the way,
listen to the music of earth!

Winds hum the strings of
pine needles, whisper the
leaves of trees, sing the song of rain.

Birds call the call of of the wild,
Mothers call out in caring for their child

Waters play tinkles, trombones and strums,
Lightnings light flashes of terrific thunderous drums!

With myriads of musical notes to play
Earths sound of music is heard Today..

---------------------------




Waiting at the station
for the train to round the bend;
Waiting for the whistle
It's mournful sound to send
-//\\-.


Shake and rattle a gourd
calling "all aboard!"
traveling through
Wall of tall bamboo!
Path winding enthralls
Tumbling waterfalls,
Flashing fish
grant a wish
on or off the train
will we meet again?
All Aboard!
:-)


Out on the bay
in a small boat at sundown;
Water glassy smooth like a liquid sky,
Colors indescribable.
Swooping sounds of seagulls,
Fresh feel and smell of salty air,
Blend of sky, water, color, air,
Boat and me all rolled into one pulling up sails
To catch it when a small breeze begins to blow-
Arms upstretched, I too, hang out my wash.

---

Here today, gone tomorrow
Smile in tears, laugh in sorrow,
Be here now, live life today
Concentrate along the way
For all will vanish and reappear
First it's there and then it's here...
:-)

Crystal clear, invisible waters
reflect tall, green pines,
heavenly skies, and all we see.
The empty boat rests,
the bow on the shore,
the stern in the lake,
ready to go to the other shore where
crystal clear, invisible waters
reflect tall, green pines,
heavenly skies, and all we see.



Speaking to the wind
Ice laden limbs sparkle bright
Flashing in the sun

Since i can't seem to find
a sef I can call me,
I'm ready to realize
a sef I can be-(I am this)-
Now that's different!
and I find I have to agree:
"I am this that I am"
and the I am of that
I am is me!
:-)

green grass growing
carpet of summer showers
under walking feet


Through the frosty wind
Bright sunshine shines looking warm
Shivering a smile
:-)

The grass grows taller
As the hot summer days pass
And so does my son.


There's an old log in the lake
It used to be a tall, green growing
tree until one day it fell over,
toppling with hardly a
splash at all into the water.
Now off and on all day long,
One turtle or another will crawl
up onto that old log and
just sit there for a while.
-//\\-

we like to muse about
what it is to be awake
altogether the things we
say is like
Beautiful poetry
A feast for sentient beings
Flowering plum trees
it is a wonderful thing like
little streams tumbling down the
mountainsides over rocks, pebbles
and boulders.
----

From inside the house
We stand in door half open
Breathing in the air


If mindfulness is lost in the
forest of potentialites,
Then once a field of new ground is
cleared,
the stumps uprooted, removed
the brushes and brambles piled
high over to the side and burnt
to ashes
then there's a looseness,
a relaxation-like of the soil,
which makes cultivation much
more possible...
then as time goes by the soil becomes
loamy, pliable, and easy to cultivate, but
if neglect
ever creeps in and takes
over, then soon the field is back
to trees, bushes and brambles..
mindfulness then once again becomes
lost in the forest of potentialities...
-//\\-

A big clump of stuff
Lumpy and spinning around
The whole earth a self.
-//\\-

Finding no zendo
None to be found, miles around
Could be very good.
-//\\-


All the earth and all the people
Wrapt in peace
Sunshine, Moonshine, clear and bright
Day and Night,
Wind and Rain always and ever
Exactly when needed!
Plenty to eat, a nice, warm, dry place to sleep,
Beautiful trails to walk on, flowers and trees to admire,
Trustworthiness, truth, and goodwill full and overflowing
over all the earth,
All the earth and all the people wrapt in peace,
Sunshine, moonshine bright, day and night
Clean and clear and washed in light.... :-)



Your cat on the bookshelf
Awake from his nap.
Looks like he's thinking of
Jumping in your lap.
Who ate up all the lunch?
It must've been him,
See how sleek he looks?
He's all vigor and vim!
But there's one little thing
I think I'll never know:
How many of his nine lives
Does he have left to go?!
:-)

everything i experience and know
comes into existence with me
couldn't exist without me
nor could i exist
without everything i experience and know


Coming in here to read and muse
little like singing songs with no
particular words and tunes
just makin' it all up as we go along
outta bits and pieces of this and that
that's crossed our trails as we go
running fast or running slow
letting fingers crawl all over the keys
burning hot to make um freeze
get an orange, give it a squeeze
drink down it's juice if you please
"sing a song of sixpence
a pocket full 'o rye
four and twenty blackbirds..."
..Oh no!!! not baked in a pie!!!!!
not these blackbirds! Let 'em FLY
LET 'EM FLY!!! ~~~~~
:-)



the whole universe,
alltogether
is made up of all kinds of stuff
which taken all-together is just
"stuff"
and of this stuff all kinds of different
things constantly form and unform
constantly
we and mountains and rivers,
sand and clouds and burning
gasses, mud and muck and
blood and guts and flowers,
sweet perfumes and blue skies,
sunny days, roots, snowdrops,
everything beautiful and everything ugly,
all we think is good and all we think is bad,
Each and every self is all made
of that same stuff...No Self... :-)
we'll probably never know
what it is any more than
we know what any other
thing like it is except in there
where we know what we know
that nobody else and everybody
else knows already

Today a wintery wind, cool and brisk
Came blowing in from the North
Loosening up the leaves
All ready to fall.
Ripening reds, glowing golds, and colors
Of every conception fluttered gracefully down all day
From the beautiful popcorn trees, apples, and pines
Carpeting all over the yard a whole new layer
On top of all the layers already there from years before,
The wind and the leaves together each year
Weaving new layers to carpets that cover the ground
Kept always new, soft, and clean
By the gentle rains that fall.
-//\\-

_
city and country
sidewalks and trails
carrying milk
in cartons or pails
factory and farm
glass and green
city and country
betwixt and between
....

most people,
most of the time
automatically know what is right.
But then when
occasion rises with doubt,
oh what agony!
what to do? what to do?
sometime we choose
what is best
sometime mistakes are made
but if it's our aim
to do what's right
karmic debts need not be paid.
---

Woke up in the night
Sound of heavy rains pouring
Glad the roof don't leak

the mortal
falling asleep at the helm,
must be awakened
or else be overwhelmed:
therefore:
O great mysterious
watchman,
the light there within,
Awake! Awake these mortal men,


If you take One thing and divide
it up, you still have One Thing,
divided up
If you take One thing and multiply
it, You still have One Thing
multiplied.
So No matter how many times
they are replicated,
No matter how tiny the pieces they
are divided into,
There they are.
One thing.


Overwhelmed-
a million things to do
these things have to be done
no way around it
and must be done today.
Right Now!.
oh heaven help me! they scream
wake up! wake up! it's only a dream
There's
Only OneThing
to be done.
__ _Be
Here___Now


lost chance for better
while clinging to something old
should have let it go

One last leaf clinging
On the oak tree in the yard
It will soon let go

Yesterday is gone
We tried to hang on to it
But it would not stay

When a worry worries you
And there's nothing you can do
Write it down on a slip of paper
Put it in "The Empty Pot"
and
LET IT GO!

See the bird up in the tree
See him looking down at me
Like the bird up in the tree
I must let go to fly around free..

Turn to breatheing then
Realize wrong, but don't hang on
Just let go and breathe.

......singing....
...you might as well let go
you can't hold on to
anything
nothing at all
no matter how you try
so
you might as well just go
ahead and let go
don't be banging your head against
the wall of clinging trying to hang on
no just go ahead keep singing
let go just know this is so there's plenty more
where that came from you know, so
just let go.....

Birds up in the trees
flitting to and fro,
each minding their own business:
Back and forth they go
building nests and hunting worms
raising little birds
unaware they're teaching us
much more than many words
-//\\-


The place where Han Shan the Zen Man
spends his days
Is farther away than he can tell,
But not me, man. The place where I
spend my days is right here.
I could be in the middle of Manhattan
Or on a Desert Oasis somewhere but I
Would still be here.
Even if I were to sink to the bottom of the Atlantic,
I would still be here.
It's simple.
The place where I spend my days is right here
In the same place where I spend my nights.
Where else could I be than where I am?
:-)-//\\-
OR:
The place where Han Shan the Zen Man
and I spend our days
Is farther away than we can tell,
But and also too, the place where we
spend our days is this place here.
We could be in the middle of Manhattan
Or on a Desert Oasis somewhere but we
Would still be here.
Even if we were to sink to the bottom of the Atlantic,
We would still be here.
Where else could we be than where we are?

walk slow and tread lightly... :-)

sweaty, sticky, gritty sand
shaky legs on rocky ledge
precariously balanced
not used to this sort of thing.
many a scraped shin,
scabs on knees, bangs and bruises
until one day
The Trail and I
become one.
-//\\-


on path
toward no
attainment
looking back at none
ending up is all the same
as not to end, not begun

not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here
and there
and everywhere
and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like flames flickering
on a hearth
like logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
only a little longer...
all events flow
all come,
All go....
-//\\-

All over the earth
Something's somewhere blooming
Now is blossom time.
:-)

We are.
And we know it
That's what's so odd about it
That we can know we are
That we can even shout it
Or we can be silent
Or anything we choose...
We can think about it
Or not think about it.
WoW!!!
...................
We are the universe!
Whatever the universe is
Is what we are!
How wonderful!
To think of it!
That whatever is
Is what we are!
:-)


I portray
dark brown eyes....
and hair brunette,
except for some weird ones that's of all things-
--white!!! ...
That gives me a great idea for a neat photographic self portrait. (One of these days perhaps I will make one)... In bits and
pieces...
a little hair here
an eye or two there
maybe a little skin bare
an ear and a toe
saying gogh man gogh
but nothing would be out of place, you know
unlike some past artists might do
I would put in place
a whole lot of positive space
with bits and pieces of negative
placed strategically here and there.
as super realistical as a digital camera could be
that's how I might some day paint pieces of me!
:-)






rows and rows of peas
a field full of tall green corn
okra, tomatoes
cook up some cornbread
crispy fried upon the stove
eat and eat and eat
drink a little tea
then come on out to the porch
doze a while with me
-//\\- :-)

when they arrive
the people of today
intermingling
laughter, joy, and love
ringing from the rafters
soaking into the wood
sweet fragrance thereafter
neither host nor guest
all in one and one in all...
-//\\-


One last red rose in October
Then lo and behold!
One pink rose in November...
One white rose for winter?
...
Flowers in spring,
The whip-poor-will in summer.
All year long fluttering along on
the wings of the little grey dove.
Begin with snow
or begin with red maple leaves
or plum blossoms
or once again back to the
red, red rose of summer...
-//\\-


From the river through the forest,
Drop after drop
Going on and on forever
Through untold numbers of
Never-ending turns;
Over there, in the fog,
The trees are green as grass
Higher up, the white clouds
on sunny, blue-sky days
Are whiter than white
-//\\-10/2009

Over there, in the fog,
trees are green as grass,
Higher up, white clouds.

These sunny, blue-sky days
Make white clouds disappear,
Nothing left but empty space.

Blue sky Blue.
4/4/2007

What world?
Why this one of course!
This one that nobody knows but me,
Is flowing like your river, flowing
ever into and out of the sea, for me!
Oh the excitement of it! This world!
This world where things happen in long,
long strings of shining pearls of existence,
Where there's no danger no peril in what
does not exist, but which can be seen,
touched and tasted! Oh! The Excitement of it!
The Agony, the Ecstasy! The sheer
Emptiness so Vast and Endless as to be Nothing
more than Here and Now! :-)
-//\\-

____________________________________________________________________

Early up in morning breeze!
On the way, the tall grass moves
cleanly through an empty mind.
These towering columns of pines
Stand high into blue of sky,
as last summer is softened on the
floor of fallen leaves.
The light behind my eyes
softens the light behind the pine.
-//\\-

____________________________________________________________________

wanting to walk and
Waiting beside the fire
for rainshower to slack off.
Waiting while water is running
off the eaves in torrents,
filling rainbarrels full.
Waiting with heart full of
gratitude...
to the rainmaker
The creek in swollen cascades
running;
no words, no thoughts
watching little flames in hearth.

_______________________________________________________________

Upon the surface
Little petals of satin
Roots invisible

__________________________________________________________________

a lotus is a waterlily, there's plenty around here
wildly growing out of sight
in ponds and slews and lakes out in the boondocks
Some grow huge stems and reach more than a
foot above the surface, creating huge leaves and flowers,
depending upon the richness of the mud they plant their
roots into.
rich mud = rich lotus
...
Bright lily unstained
By muddy earth of it's birth
Upon clear waters
Sky and lily meet
Form reflections together
Being here and now

____________________________________________________________________

Being the way we are
Integrates the way we were
The way we shall be

What we are today
And what we were yesterday
We are tomorrow

Old keeps falling off
As new is generating
Blending continues.
-//\\-
_________________________________________________________________

Perhaps from time to time we long for remote quietness,
cool, breezy and far away from the hustle, bustle, and
noise...
We feel a need to "get away from it all,"
to some far away mountain peak...

We can see
That the every day world is
not to be escaped from,
that whatever is going on is going on.
That no matter what is happening there is
no disturbance in our inner being...
you know, like, as they say,
when the moon is reflected in the
water of the pond you can see the reflection,
but you know that not the water,
nor anything living in the water is
disturbed by it's being reflected there.
yes...
Things Happen.
We deal with them as they happen. _ --
_--with no disturbance in our inner being.
-//\\-
...

Like Tao Yuan Ming said, " My mind remains wide,
So my place is naturally remote."

___________________________________________________________________

Being what they are
Refrigerators cool things
Stoves make lots of heat
Chairs say sit on me
Wheels say, "come, let's take a ride!"
Being what they are

Being what we are
There's something about us all
That is what we are.

____________________________________________________________________


there was an old willow tree
enwrapt in yellow jasmine wild and young...
one day the old tree fell down across the path, ...
... no one came to clear away the debris;
instead they allowed path walkers must
walk around the old jasmine covered tree...
today among all pathwalkers, there's much
admiration for the wonderful spectacle of
the jasmine hedge around the curve of the path....


Sunbeams stole their way through
shadowy tree branches to the darkness
of our dark tunnel trail, lighting up patches of
deep golden light,as we slowly walked through,
drinking in every last drop of twilight...
-//\\-







-_____________________________
___-The laughing buddha
Travels.
We see him everywhere;
He takes an old, ordinary,
hum-drum day and brightens it up into
something well worth hopping up from
sleep to see, makes little squirrels all
"bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,"
causes those who might
plod downtroddenly to
Dance, Swing and Sing,
takes work out of work,
finds nuggets of fairydust fun,
brings life into places
where before there was none.
The laughing buddha's eyes
reflect fathomless skies with
Sparkle... :-)

-//\\-ovia


Always a tree wearing robins in her hair, little
creatures rustling leaves in there among the denseness
of green and green and green little things moving
and nothing ever seen when it's spring--somewhere...


So familiar! Have I not seen this
deep blue with pale fluffs of green out-
lined against brightness some-
where before today?
I feel like something else, perhaps
a bluebird beating my wings against the
rarified air of a day like today; a Spring day
Listening to tinkledrops dripping off eave's april
showers...ahhhh...this is really amazing. It's almost
enough to make me burst into song!
Oh would that I were a meadowlark! :-)
-//\\-


Ah these autumn days!
They feel like early spring...
I just saw the bluebird of happiness
My heart just heard him sing

Moonlit nights,
Days so mild
Joy so sweet.
so tangy wild

Everyday at twilights eve
When shadows flicker low
Lovely sounds from whispers
Softly come and go

Ah, these autumn days!
So lovely is this spring
My sweetheart at last is home
My heart just heard him sing.
-----------------------------------

we'll never know
how this turned out
because as one thing leads
to another, days and weeks,
years, eons flow into more
days weeks years eons.
nothing's ever begun, nor
finished.
therefore we'll never know how
this one thing turned out because it
went on, one thing turning into
another. today was yesterday,
and today is also tomorrow,
today is the best day.
-//\\-



Back in November
Of the year two-thousand-one
May ending next week
These Words coming up
Every Thousand years or so
When winter is cold
Always new un-said
Until a heart opens up
Back in November
Of any year of thousands
Any day they May.
-//\\-



on path
toward no
attainment
looking back at none
ending up is all the same
as not to end, not begun

not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here
and there
and everywhere
and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like the flames flickering
on the hearth
like the logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
a little longer...
but all events flow
all come,
All go....
-//\\-


this morning
the sun came out brighter than bright
hotter than hot
illuminating towering mountains of white
clouds, gray clouds and
later on from west to east a huge black one
went rolling by never spilling a drop
-//\\-


last winter A leaf
upon the tree of we
clung steadfastly to the branch
upon which it'd
spent the whole of early spring
from a bud,
the whole of summer's heat and light
into the last frost
before the first snow
of winter
it held fast to that branch
refusing to let go even when
wild nor'easters tried
to blow it away.
'Til once again early spring burst forth
into new green buds one of which was
A leaf upon the tree of we
-//\\-



I like this "my bones" stuff...
I can see me now somewhere
with all my bones piled up in a
neat pile before me
perhaps on a clean white cloth
or a black velvet one
piled up there helter-skelter
in no planned order
I see myself shuffling through them
carefully choosing two that's just right...
perhaps a couple of shin-bones will do
I take them in hand, get the rhythm going
then,..bonk, bonk, bonkity-bonk,.
bonk, bonk, bonkity-bonk
I'm in the band..Playing along with
all the other instruments...perhaps the song
might be:
"Dese Bones Gonna Rise Again!"
:-) -//\\-



The first time I visited
the National Gallery of Art
in Washington DC
I had only fifteen minutes.
imagine that! fifteen minutes!
What-a-whirlwind-that-was.!!!
It was like if
i'd been running a marathon
dying of thirst
and somebody flings a
dipper of water at me as they drive
past in their mustang convertible
at ninety miles per hour...I catch what
few drops of moisture I can, __oh my!
What a beautiful, blurry fog of joy!
-//\\- :-)


Moments like this one
Lighting up Being here Now
Beyond beyond words


slantily gleaning
southerly leaning
turning golderly gleaming
streaming
hot and hotter one last flame
flung over leaves and bees
bugs, slug-a-lugs melting
turning into self same soil
of last summer's toil
...
old man dreiskel's cane mill's a grinding
away up yonder somewhere in the
dim, dark realms of past autumns' gold
spinning out golden threads of sweetness.
Into these leaves
It's in the air, it's still there in the air.
everywhere.
same o same o same o in the air
-//\\-


Paying attention
Like a little child absorbed
This is all there is
-//\\-


Autumn is in the air now, goldenly coloring the year
But today it's misted, clouded, not very clear
Crying tears of sorrow
For what's coming tomorrow
The year 2003 will be
Out there
Stripped bare
Left shivering in shrouds of ice
Freezing to death. But with one eye open,
And a gleam therein,
A small hidden grin
Looking forward to fireworks,
Champagne!
Auld Lang Syne!
New Year's eve is hiding behind the door
Ready to spring out gleefully with 2004!
-//\\-

:-)



Not popeye the sailor
Nor twiggy the british lass
But plain old mesef y'know
Sailing through the pass
Where mahogany logs float to the
Marina
Waiting for shipment o'er the sea
To be made into elegant furniture
Then shipped on back to me!


It's so easy to be calm when the bay is
as slick as glass. String up a hammock
across the bow and sleep like a baby.
...But let a summer squall appear on the
horizon and see what happens...
No more hammock
No more sleep
Batten down the hatches!
That bay is deep
Don't wanta slide
under the tide
adrenalin's flowing
over the side,
to and fro
no calm no mo
don't wanta go
don't wanta slip
don't wanta go
down with the ship!

human nature clings
like tendrils of green vines
to it's hold on life
-//\\-




Being the way we are
Integrates the way we were
The way we shall be

What we are today
And what we were yesterday
We are tomorrow

Old keeps falling off
As new is generating
Blending continues.
-//\\-


An old house abandoned
No one living there any more
Well, no one that is but the
Woman on the wall beside the door
She's Tall.
Skinny.
Looks like she might've been painted by
Somebody's maid.
Wearing a long bright blue frock
She stands there beside a cuckoo clock,
The only other thing in the room
Is over in the corner. Just a broom.
When first we saw her
much to our surprise
She watched our every move
With her darkly painted eyes
And even now, to this very day
No matter where we go
Those eyes follow
I tell you true , _it's so.
-//\\-




I'd like to see
Gauguin's Woman on the Wall
I'm sure there must be one.
He painted women everywhere,
And they say that after he died,
they found every wall from floor to
ceiling in the hut where he lived
In Tahiti,
covered with paintings.
He had
nothing else to paint on?
Or perhaps
he just liked the idea of
covering all the walls with
Tahiti.
-//\\-



So familiar! Have I not seen this
deep blue with pale fluffs of green out-
lined against brightness some-
where before today?
I feel like something else, perhaps
a bluebird beating my wings against the
rarified air of a day like today; a Spring day
Listening to tinkledrops dripping off eave's april
showers...ahhhh...this is really amazing. It's almost
enough to make me burst into song!
Oh would that I were a meadowlark! :-)
-//\\-

Far and away across
deserts of mind
mirages lie shimmering,
emerald seas glimmering.
Beckoning, thrumming
leathery skintight drums drumming,
beckoning calling enthralling, on
and on ye travelers on!
See yon crystal cities'
diamond castles gleaming
beams of light streaming
Far and away.
Far, far away...
Someday! Someday!
Mirages lie shimmering
glistening and glimmering
Only far and
Only away
Upon the deserts of the mind...
-//\\-

The last potato
Will be our supper tonight
We will save the sprouts
-//\\-

In the stillness of timeless time,
leaf turns loose from tree
and drifting off to sleep
snuggles down
to ground
-//\\-
Like winter snowflakes
Wisteria blooms raining
Down in early spring
-//\\-

Waiting at the station
for the train to round the bend;
Waiting for the whistle
It's mournful sound to send
-//\\-.

along the way
I listen to the music
of wind
strumming the strings
of pine needles
towering above my head
along the winding road,
bare feet luxuriating in the
feeling of the leafy autumn carpet
soft from midight's rain.
-//\\-



Shake and rattle a gourd
calling "all aboard!"
traveling through
Wall of tall bamboo!
Path winding enthralls
Tumbling waterfalls,
Flashing fish
grant a wish
on or off the train
will we meet again?
All Aboard!
:-)



Along with old Ryokan,
I ask, "were they what they seemed,
those old bygone days?"
Now they're only like a dream.
fading away from today
like last night's darkness.
I wake up early
to the first cool autumn air.
-//\\-


- Unknown Young mimosa and seedling pines hang heavy
with last night's rainfall.
bending over grassy pathways.
Through bushes, shrubs and rampant honeysuckle vines
Grassy green paths wind around; back and forth
First this way then that.
Every day wildflower surprises.
Every day something new.



look in the albums
start anywhere
but be very careful; you might get
lost in there!
a while ago i was going to look
for only a minute or two
and the next thing i knew
the kitchen clock struck two
i'd missed my date
we were to meet at one
hurry, hurry, gotta run!



Birds fly.
Days come and go by.
Cities on earth rise and fall.
Things happen.
It has been said,
"Everything vanishes and
reappears,magically, again and again
time without end."




Path home's a pleasure
High ridges, by waterfalls
Nature makes a scene



sandy shoals
shallow
pull canoe past
keep on
going
low overhanging branches
watch out for wasp nest
duck!
but keep on going
dip oars in lightly to prevent
tipover turn
keep on
going
down the river riding,
skimming swiftly along
go with the flow
keep on
going.



Stage lights go dim
Inaudible sigh
Summer's over
Inchworm's
Bowing goodbye
There's an air of
Hesitation
Before applause begins
Spellbound audience
Not ready for the end
-//\\-

Aye and sure 'tis so
Being on inside and out
All at the same time!
:-)


On and off the path
Edge to edge to middle way
It's always springtime
:-)

(each moment is new)
Like pink-white buds on the plum
(always opening)
:-) _______________________________ .........


Midnight hours trouble us not
when stern ungentle sounds without
stirr'd with wind rattle screen
rise and fall, blowing between.
Flashing atoms of light
making moments eerily bright,
then darker still than darkest night.
Wall and locust trees roaring
encounter clouds downpouring
lashing, issuing torrents from all
directions at once.
The honey tree beside the barn
where bees were buzzing yesterday
whipping, tearing, then upon the
ground it lay,
lopp'd and hew'd, it's leaves, twigs,
and honeycomb home
strewed from hither to yon.
Now passing by, the storm is gone.
Outer and inner calm together
speaking in silence louder than weather.
-//\\-


travel to the corner
at the end of the road
not far from the pier
where the cold fresh water swirls
around the piling
the wood is well preserved,
bleached almost white by
summer sun, rain and sandy feet
collapse there upon those wide
hot boards, soak up their heat,
a bundle of nothing
watch the windmill of your mind
-//\\-


Sunset On The Mountain
It was back in the past, years ago
We took a trip to see if it was so
That mountains rose up towering tall
Above the earth where cascades fall
We drove all day and half the night
Then slept awhile 'til broad daylight
And sure enough the tale was true
The mountains were there all misty blue
We played all day and walked the trails
Picked the flowers and talked their tales
With mountain folk who lived up there
Where trips to town were very rare
Then When the day was almost done
We Stood on a cliff and watched the sun
As it sank below the ridges of blue
Where whip-poor-wills call
goodnight to you.
--//\\-


we've been told
and think it's true,
that:
Being already on the path
You don't go looking for the path
For to be so busy looking for the path
that you don't realize you're on it is
like losing it.
Same for striving. You don't spend efforts
on non-striving because that in itself would be
striving.
In fact, you don't try to grasp a hold on to anything
and cling to it...
an old zen saying:
"do not grasp truth,
do not grasp untruth,
and do not grasp that which is not untrue."
-//\\-


"Our Zen nature doesn’t abide in any one place,
it functions from moment to moment,
so we mustn’t hold onto anything."

thoughts are like a stream
a river flowing through
they cannot be held;
they continue...
on and on and on...
even whilst we sleep

and that...we can look at them.
entertain some
throw some out
choose to act on some
choose to not act on some
laugh at some
cry at some, etc., etc.....

I myself personally...
(which is the only one I can speak for)
have never experienced one moment
when thoughts were not flowing.....
even while in the deepest of deep meditations,
in truest of true prayers, in deepest sorrow,
most beautifulest of happiest times, No matter
upon what highest of high mountains or lowest
of lowest valleys, in green pastures, beside the
stillest of still waters and ...even in that:
the very valley of the shadow
of death....
And even when they are silent,
thoughts are still there with me...
still streaming on along.....
on and on and on...........
-//\\-

Silent the
Coldwater River,
mists rise up like smoke on it's surface,
rambling round curves of sugar white sand
turning back to fall beside towering wall
of jungle, thick trunked trees and thin
whose broken branches fall in
adrift among patterns of moonlight
floating past
Sentient beings Dreaming warmly by firelight,
drifting drowsily, waiting for dawn
watching wisps of smoke rise,
...silent river of smoke...
-//\\-

My quest has ended here
in this little shack on the edge
of mirror waters.
Clouds gather in great, fluffy
conglomerations in the
blue skies above my head.
River currents whisper in front, a swampy forest full of
towering trees wall off the back. On one of their trunks I
sketched a seagull flying.
The air is incensed by flowers growing wild.
From here no fields or farms are in sight
but from the abundance of their yield
I receive my daily bread.
-//\\-


dining out
beneath the canopy of heaven
little haven,
lovely sphere
narrower than ocean wider than line
all streams pour into mind
free and easy
-//\\-


Free and Easy
way of doing things
smoothly flowing
dipping paddles quietly
canoe not disturb water
-//\\-


The more I rush around to get everything done
the less I get done.
The more I slow down, relax, take it easy,
work at an easier pace,
The more I get done, and the better I do.
How strange.
Common sense tells me to hold steady,
work from inside in a meditative way...
:-)me


not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here and there and
everywhere and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like the flames flickering
on the hearth
like the logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
a little longer...
but all events flow
all come,
All go....
-//\\-


Zazen...well it's not only quiet meditation.
It's a way to stay anchored to that quiet,
peaceful place of our inner self
no matter what dynamic, challenging things
are happening in daily life.
Through our practice of zazen we can
enhance our abilities a thousand-fold and
enjoy every moment of every day.
We can live free-flowingly, letting go every
moment of any notion of attachment to
that moment no matter what it might
present to us.



Zen.
New beginnings!
We start fresh,
Consciously taking the next step,
With beginnner’s mind.
-//\\-






We know. We are known.
Not by mere coincidence: We fit
together like pieces of puzzles falling
naturally into place.
In the beginning the picture is blank
In the morning the day is blank
In this moment the next is blank...
...continual new beginnings...
-//\\-


Today!
...a new beginning...
last night i closed my eyes and went to sleep
that was an end.
this morning i opened my eyes and wokeup.
That was a new beginning.



It is a pleasure to have access to the writings
of myriads of masters
old and new
to see what this one and that one thought of things,
Also a deep, deep pleasure to read
their descriptions of a few of the
many, many things of nature,
like peach blossoms and clouds hugging
mountain tops...



Although immediately forgetting
almost everything.
It is still there.

Three days ago a zillion leaves
scattered all over the ground
bright.
Red. orange. yellow. All
and many combinations of
colors.
Today All the leaves are brown.
-//\\-




studying:
that:
tho we cannot name by name
nor describe a definition of
that
that is
beyond our ken
with no beginning, no end;
methinks, methinks
to study the that,
that in it
we live and move and have our being.



and also a great pleasure
to learn from one another,
the things shared of what
has been discovered
along the way
in day to day
living__
experiencing, thinking, being,
finding, feeling, seeing
sharing and sharing alike
one with another...
...what a pleasure it is
to learn and unlearn...
-- :-) -//\\-



some things you just know automatically
you don't know exactly what and
you don't know exactly how you came to know
you just
know.
(and you know you know. :-)
-//\\-



and the mostest pleasure of all
is studying spring and fall
tossing out a ball
yelling out a call
sweeping up a leaf
getting over grief
going to a place
where only shadows trace
living out of time
playing with a rhyme
studying the plain old everyday natural ways of living --
looking for and finding that everything means everything else! :-)
-//\\-

it happens even when we think it's not happening...
that we are studying, i mean. it's a constant thing
just like breathing.
so natural
-//\\-

- T’ao Yuan-ming built his hut beside a path and:
I built a cabin beside a street,
But hear no cars or trucks
You ask how this can be?
A distant mind is a far off place
Picking purple flowers by the eastern fence
I lose myself in the southern hills.
The mountain air, the sunset light,
Birds flying home together.
In this there is a truth
To know, but not to say. ...
-//\\-and:


Up 'n down
sky; ground
can't look up all the time
nor down.
-//\\-


I like to look at pictures and poems on the computer screen
and in books and on the walls
and all around the house
and out in the garden, up the road,
across the fields and woods,
on the banks of the river, behind the rocks
under the logs
all the way up the mountainside to the top
I like to look at all the pictures and the poems
I can't carry them along attached to me
but as each one by one, they fall away
more come in.
-//\\-



If your path leads into sorrow,
You may walk there for a while;
But then the sorrow will leave you,
And you will walk a happy mile.
-//\\-


No matter how good
No matter how bad
This too, shall pass...
:-)


As the sage did,
I asked myself which
"would I wish to have
all knowledge
or all
ignorance?"
then I thought,
" I'm better off as I am."
-//\\-



In the garden just outside the tall windows...
a bench waits
it's made of patterned wrought iron- painted creamy white-
there's a little table there
one drink. cold. frosty droplets crawl down it's side
a straw in it
waiting
I will sit there for a while drinking in the beauty
of the delphiniums.
-//\\-

Or should that be, "it's always spring somewhere..."...
Always a tree wearing robins in her hair, little
creatures rustling leaves in there among the denseness
of green and green and green little things moving
and nothing ever seen when it's spring--somewhere...
somewhere it's always spring!
...and winter
...and summer
...and fall
and somewhere it's everything we can think of!
all that ever has been and ever will be,
IS
somewhere...









------------------------------------------------ by -//\\-odmmb
===========================================

=========
What would September be without it's star?
Empty. Forlorn. Sad.
Wondering...
Drab. Downcast. Fumble-fingered.
Blundering.
As for OcTOber,...waiting in the wings
Without September,
What would October be?..Empty flings?
No ending in tricks and treats sweet things?
No Harvest moon or Witches in black
Nor Childhood fantasies... they'd all fade back-
Into a September that never came
To burn in the beauties of Autumn's Flame
O bright and burning September Starr,
Come light us the way to where you are!..
-//\\-.... :-)



poetry roaming all over
grazing on grass and eating clover
old shakespeare in his grave lay there
smiling a big smile as he disappeared
into being not to be
and a whole bunch of old philosophers
and new fangled psychologierists could
spend a whole eternity trying
to figure it all out.




When you come to my door
Don't look for me
Sit down over there on that bench
The one with the pinestraw mat
Rest easy there for a while
Listen to everything you hear
Look at everything you see
But don't look for me


Creatures under sea
Are they dreaming dreams of me?
I think they could be!
:-)

When I got to this one, I stopped and
if I could've I would've
jumped out of my chair.
And landed there.
Right in the middle of those tracks, and then
I'd step up on a rail, and with arms out
for balance, I'd walk them rails all the way
back to town--taking time out every few
minutes to stop and hop.
The crossties.
Stop.
Stand for long minutes. Drink it all in.
All of it.
The golden fields, the forests green
the smell of the grass and the rocks between
The sun, the air, the new mown hay
The grasshoppers hopping outta my way,
Then finally at last when I got to town
In the corner drug-store, I'd sit me down
I'd order a coke from the fountain with cherry,
A plain vanilla sundae with a
big, sweet, juicy, red strawberry on top. :-)
-sef-//\\-





Wonderful little windows of silver
made only for light and air
Put in a row of them
next to the ceiling up there
delicate and small around the wall
so that when perchance
the drapes below are closed,
streams of sun, beams of moon,
twinkles of stars,
along with long fingers of wind
can fill the house with joy from the
outside and the in... :-)


Two gnarly old apple trees
stand side by side
filling the southern corner
of the garden with
pink and white fragrant blossoms;
Tender green leaves begin
opening spring too early,
for one last blast of winter in
midnight hours deep freeze
yet summer always finds those
two gnarly old apple trees luxuriantly
covered with clouds of green apple leaves.
-//\\-


look in the albums
start anywhere
but be very careful; you might get
lost in there!
a while ago i was going to look
for only a minute or two
and the next thing i knew
the kitchen clock struck two
i'd missed my date
we were to meet at one
hurry, hurry, gotta run!



Jump off the deep end
swim underwater
go deep
go all the way
go to the bottom where the sand's
not packed where it's
loosely settled, ready to
rise in clouds when
flounders tunnel in to hide.
Open your eyes full and wide.
You'll see a city in a sense:
"Offspring of the Elements."
Water and Air held congregated,
no forests felled, none separated.
The buildings there are never glued,
nothing untoward would be construed,
No wood that could be whittled into rigid little
men and animals and other objets d'art until:
The Elements' little fling
produces life in everything.
So now that you've seen that beautiful
city and held your breath as long as you could,
Rise to the surface and breathe.


this makes no sense, but that's okay. :-)

Living in zazen
Everywhere and all the time
In meditation


In corner of garden
a woven seat
padded cushion of pine straw
arching long limbs of yellow rose
vines sheltering above
birds watch, clouds drift overhead,
a still figure meditates there
deep in tranquility


Two gnarly old apple trees
stand side by side
filling the southern corner
of the garden with pink
and white fragrant blossoms,
dropping to carpet the ground
while tender green leaves begin
opening into early ,too early, spring
for one last blast of winter in
midnight hours deep freeze
yet summer always finds those
two gnarly old apple trees luxuriantly
covered with clouds of green apple's leaves.
-//\\-

I am the flower
I am the stone
I am the shadow
here and gone.
I'm winter wind
bringing cold,
I am the young
I am the old
I'm mountains, skies,
birds on wing,
tat tvam asi
I'm everything.
-//\\-


tat tvam asi
I am that thermometer out there on the wall
Watching my temperature fall in the fall
Then when comes some balmy skies
I hang out here and watch it rise
-//\\-

I am..
wondering about...
a little patch of bright green moss
out there among the brown leaves.
It's only a tiny little thing,
but there it is
it's always cool
no matter how hot the day is.
-me

I always wonder what it's doing there
How it got to be there in the first place.
And how does it stay alive there in a
dry place like that?
I always thought that kind of moss needed
a cool moist and very shady place to grow,
like on a rock beside a creek, on on the wall
of a deep water-well, or in the cool, damp banks
of a spring or a river,...
but it's not.
it's right there where it is.


tat tvam asi
I am that thermometer out there on the wall
Watching my temperature fall in the fall
Then when comes some balmy skies
I hang out here and watch it rise
-//\\-

praying thanks all daylong
praying saying all in song
every need indeed provided
one in one we're undivided...
:-)..-//\\-

Modem complete!
Computer New
Aye, and yes, we too,
at this station in life are
starting off brand-new like you.:-)
One thing we've noticed in the dark,
that on/off button keeps on a-blinking,
What in the world can it be thinking!?
There it sits, all those Gigs
humming and thrumming even after
we're sound asleep and sawing logs!
If we should awake during the night,
Would we catch it in it's secret flight?
Will we ever know what's going on
inside that thing when we are gone!? :-)
-//\\-


well now let me see
five seven five together
Totals seventeen

As thin as a rail
Little legs swiftly running
Looking for flowers


Did you see
The one like a long green tunnel?
It bent and curved through the wood
We never did see what was up ahead
We peeked and peered but never could,
But the way was clear, no brambles or briars
We met no thieves nor larcenous liars
Only once in a while did the going get tough
But when things came up a little bit rough
We hauled out all our tools and stuff
Carved our way around the snags,
And ate from the stores we had in our bags.
So though we took the tunneled road
We made our way with some
To the destination sought by all
To where the road less traveled has come.




Did you see the sign
At the forks of the road,
Or did you miss the turn?
It was after you passed the
gnarly old oak and before
the dark green fern...
Yes I saw and yes I turned
and that's when the way got rough
but thanks to you and the map you drew
The way is clear enough... :-)




Bright lily unstained
By muddy earth of it's birth
Upon clear waters
Sky and lily meet
Form reflections together
Being here and now



On this salty earth
Just the proper proportions
Are distributed
Keeping the balance
Just enough and not too much
That's how it's all made.
...................
Whatever will be, will be
Tongue's loose at both ends, you see.
Bound behind teeth,
squeezed down into fingers where
it's pecking keys like
chickens pecking corn.
.......................

A field of popcorn!
Something un-heard of for some non-descript woman on a farm back in those days to grow. She did'nt care. She somehow got a-hold of some popcorn seeds and she planted them. She'd never had popcorn before and she wanted to try it. She'd seen it before a long time ago when her uncle came down from Alabama and took her to town one saturday. While he was doing some business she was left free for almost a whole half a day to do whatever she pleased. She was walking up and down main street looking in the store windows when she found the theatre. She'd heard plenty about them before. There was a little sign on the glass window of the little cage where you bought tickets saying, admission $.25. She felt in her pocket and found the quarter she'd brought with her to spend and before you could say "git outta here!" she was inside. She nearly fainted with pure pleasure and a watering mouth when she smelled the popcorn. That's when she knew the first chance she got she was going to eat popcorn.Well now she had her chance. Old Ceive King gave her the seeds last winter when she was at their house helping them shell seed corn to plant in the spring. She trembled with anticipation the first time she pulled down her favorite old black iron skillet and put it on the hot stove. Following the instructions old Ceive had told her when he gave her the seeds, she waited until the skillet was good and hot then she spooned in a bunch of butter, let it melt then put in a handful of the dry popcorn, sprinkled a little salt over it, took the lid off her big old stew pot, and put it on the skillet, then got her a good thick rag to hold the hot handle of the skillet with, then as soon as she heard the first kernel pop, she started to shake the skillet back and forth on the stove and kept that up while the popping got to be two then three then more and more until finally the whole bunch seemed to be popping at one time. She kept up the shaking until she could hear no more pops, then shoved the skillet off to the back of the stove and took the lid off. Ah!.!!!.....There it was!!!! That smell she'd first smelled back in that theatre a long time ago!!! She giggled out loud with pure delight, knowing that from now on she would plant a field of popcorn every year for all the rest of her natural born days. :-)


Being on the earth
Without feet that leave no tracks
Humanity walks


__Many of these beautiful things I read I
don't understand. Some sound wonderful and
give me a good feeling, but I have no clue as to
their meaning. Some I feel like I do understand
vaguely but don't exactly get it clear. Some are
like silver bells ringing bright and clear and I
feel I understand them fully.
There was a time when I would struggle and
strive to understand. but nowadays i don't
do that any more. I have learned that I cannot
see that way. I can only see when my eyes are
clear.
:-)


.................................................

high-rise apartment:
There's one out back
on the south side of the garden
built mostly underground
By fire ants.
Nobody knows how deep it goes
Nor why they built it smack dab in
the middle of the trail. Water hose
on high pressure drove them to move
the mound.
But not their apartment.
It now rises high from a particular
point where their Fiery Queen
reposes-letting a whole colony of workers
wait on her hand and foot.
Except she has no hand

.......................................................

Had no satori
Still sleeping like a baby
Dawn has not arrived
.......................................................
A dictionary definition of "friend."
A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.
A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.
A person with whom one is allied in a
struggle or cause; a comrade.
One who supports, sympathizes with,
or patronizes a group, cause, or movement:
friends of the clean air movement.
Friend A member of the Society of
Friends; a Quaker.
...
So according to this definition,
I think most people can't
be literally called friends,
But never fear...Hey!
They can still share.
They can put thoughts and
ideas there- along with art,
like verses, poems and little
essays from their heart.
They can enjoy notes and
pictures and all
And though not attached
they can recall
little stories and quotes
and they can interact,
like Real True Friends,
as a matter of fact!
:-)


Monarch Butterfly
Touch down outside my window
As I read Wang Wei


Coffee beans roasting
Slice of bread toasting
Half awake, coasting.
Bacon frying, Dreams flying:
Wide awake without trying,
Yawn...delightfully sighing.
....


From where I sit here on top of the world,
I can see the turtle down there:
Swimming around on the bottom of the pond,
laughing!
Across a wide river
Untouched by flowing waters
My shadow lies still



Gather up dry twigs
Strike a fire to boil water
Have a coffee break
............

nope. none of those people know me
nor i know them at all
for i am a stranger and stranger still
in the place where my feet fall
my steps on land are wide and light
my home is hidden there
behind the behindest deadfall tree,
lies the location of my lair.


Birdsong and raindrops
Come through a wide open door
A June afternoon




Fear no more the loss of thy love,
that one in all, the flower of thy heart!
To thee the bamboo pole is as the oak:
'tis sorely bent but never broke;
Look to yonder breaking of the morrow,
erasing all traces of today's sorrow:
Joy's restor'd with one bold stroke,
ending the hated downtrodden yoke.
Care no more to thrash thy midnight pillow,
beneath the bare-leaved weeping willow,
nor wander paths of regret and woe.
Take advantage of possession so;
That time will come with love so real,
Those of old shall hold and feel!
This thought to you is as a new birth,
Today can fill thy heart with mirth
you laugh with joy
make love a toy
But now it's time for you to choose
to have that love you cannot lose.
-//\\-
start here go up

Well...
Perhaps a little bit reckless,
walking two inches from the
edge of Grand Canyon.
Drinking water from ditches
Sleeping beneath a banyan--
Out in the open for all to see


tonight...
soon as it gets dark
i can go to bed, crawl in
between the sheets and
rest my weary head, lay it
at last upon my pillow.
Pulling up my knees, i'll
close my eyes and see
whatever it is i please, in my
dreams i'll dream,
i'll know i'm not awake,
i'll walk and talk with you
beside a dreamy lake


Waiting beside the fire
for rainshower to slack off.
Waiting while water is running
off the eaves in torrents,
filling rainbarrels full.
Waiting with heart full of
gratitude...
to the rainmaker
The creek in swollen cascades
running;
no words, no thoughts
cozily watch little flames in hearth.
-//\\-



it was cold tonight
crispy crackly cold
like lettuce leaves
on a bed of ice
the candle there on
the coffee table
made a pointed
flame fluming up toward
the ceiling into
wispy nothingness
finally
disappearing.
nothing left but a small
puddle of wax
no string


On the
In the
Circle of Time
looking around to see
where I perhaps might be
Thinking this looks familiar,
and have I been here before
and how many times
and times and times and
times....
how many more!???
-//\\-

we'll never know
how this turned out
because as one thing leads
to another, days and weeks,
years, eons flow into more
days weeks years eons.
nothing's ever begun, nor
finished.
therefore we'll never know how
this one thing turned out because it
goes on, one thing turning into
another. today was yesterday,
and today is also tomorrow,
today is the best day.
-//\\-


my #8 is etched in gold at
#4,
that's in the afternoon when
the sun comes slanting in
at the western windows
which is the best time of
day, yes the day starts it's
autumn time at about four
o'clock. it's september, and
then on over into five and six
is october and novermber,
then after that the golden time fades
into the black and white time.
Give the kids their bath in
December.
-//\\-


oh how sad, how sad, to unknowing hearts
to see the food chain's links and parts
not knowing now just what is what
to eat the bird or to eat it not... But
knowing soon the chain would break
if no one ever did partake
But still tis sad, so very sad
that all this good could be so bad...
-//\\-


So familiar! Have I not seen this
deep blue with pale fluffs of green out-
lined against brightness some-
where before today?
I feel like something else, perhaps
a bluebird beating my wings against the
rarified air of a day like today; a Spring day
Listening to tinkledrops dripping off eave's april
showers...ahhhh...this is really amazing. It's almost
enough to make me burst into song!
Oh would that I were a meadowlark! :-)
-//\\-



The little acorn on the ground
did not see the moon last night/

When there are no ears to hear
The birdsong does not fade
Nor does no nose erase the fact
That perfume has been made
-//\\-




echoes from "the true seeing:"

self-luminous reality swept clean
of all obscuring thought.
Lighter than air, clearer than glass,
a nothing that found room for everything -
room for grass, trees, shadowy distant hills,
and far above them snow-peaks like a row of
angular clouds riding the blue sky.






dawn slowly dawned today
daylight was not and was
so subtle a happening







Fresh from the churning
Fluffy and creamy yellow
Pile it on the bread-//\\-



Twilight Shadows
day embraces night, lovingly sweet
beside warm-watered lake retreat
willowy branches cling to leaves
dancing one last waltz with birds and bees
one mortal man walks alone and sees
that dreams are made of such as these
the wedding of night betrothed to day
launch empty boat and ride away
-//\\-




The voices of earth
Sweetly sing from one great throat
Hum, hum, hum, humming...

Pure sweet butter churned
Freshly dipped up in a bowl
Small sprinkle of salt



daily chores are done
everyday life going on
wonder of wonders




The churn made of fired pottery glazed a
warm brown filled up a little more than half full of
clabbered, rich cream filled milk,
covered with a clean white cloth
sits on the left side of the fireplace on the hearth
just far enough from the flames that it is always warm
but never hot.
The thing called a "dasher" is a long, broom-handled
looking stick with two short pieces of wood fastened
to it on the bottom across each other,
so that when it is gently plunged
up and down it will churn the warm clabber milk full of
rich cream up and down and round and round until
the cream all comes together and rises up to the top.
Voila!!!





This thing'd been churning around
In awareness for a while
Just churning around,
not quite jelled yet. No butter.
No particular form, just a lot of fat
and woulda been curds&whey churning.
Suddenly the swoosh-swish sound
flattened out and became chunky
chunk-chonk and it all came together.
Eureka!
It's Butter!-//\\-



Passed a log laying by forest trail
thought, no action there. That old
log's not doing nothing but laying
there rotting away.Soon it will be
gone, no more log. It will soak
down into the ground around the
roots of all these magnificently tall,
stately trees towering above the
forest floor like cathedrals.oh!
these old logs are making food for
these green growing cathedrals! These
old logs laying here looking like no
action at all are very busy indeed! So! the
abstraction of no action is action!...
-//\\-



Om Mani Padme Hum

grass shoes for summer
seeming like no shoes at all
grasshoppers go green
-//\\-

Tonight first and last out of past
Broken strings of pearls gleaming,
still warm when held in hand
dropped one by one into the
top left drawer upon the silk
scarf neatly folded.
-//\\-

Open the window wide
Snuff out that candle light
Let the big, bright moon shine
Into the sweetness of night
no screens or doors
between the world outside and in
no screens or doors
-//\\-




Today all day long the sun shined bright and clear
and two bluejays, two wrens and one mockingbird
came flickering down to flitter around and play and
drink from the wee little river sparkling over
sandstone pebbles in the garden.
Who has a mind in mind to think of old dead
gray philosophers when such things are going
on right onder their nose!? Yeah! Sunshine!
Digging Dirt! Smelling Flowers! Walking on
The Earth! Yayyyyyy! Sunshine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Mountain survival
Can be jagged, sharp and cold
Life becomes acute.
-//\\-


Sunshine!
That Star and and the North Star and a whole
bunch of other stars guiding these lone ships
from one emerald green isle to another.
That dear old ocean of life. Full of
tidal waves, sharks, dolphins, beautiful little fishes of
every bright color, sunshine, shadows, the siren call of
sensual delights, ___No end to it!___Imagination fills
full and spills as the rains of existence continually
replenish Sunshine Sparkled Sea of Life!
-//\\-

:-)



Jungles green and mossy...with all it's
ups and downs, laughter and tears, the
world is a wonderful, beautiful place, and
to be blessed with senses to perceive it all, is
a wonderment beyond imagination...
:-) -//\\-

Late night in cafes listening
to music in the background, sipping
hot coffee and munching away a
crispy pecan cupcake after dinner with
friends talking the night, arguing, drawing
diagrams of some theoretically unsound
theory that makes perfect sense at the
time,
drawing nods and excited input all
around the table
that's the most memorable encounters
with philosophers..
where did they all go? what ever happened
to them? especially the one
who described elaborate plans to color his
whole house
Black.
Inside and out. Floors, walls,
ceilings, furnishings everything.
Black
-//\\-



Toppled Tree Limbs
lopped off
a long time before
piled up haphazardly
and left there
to rot on the forest floor
until one day a
Master of Art
came along
treading on fallen leaves and twigs,
tasty mushrooms unseen,
(some poisonous, thus taboo)
then his eyes,
falling on that tangled up collection,
began to gleam
as a masterpiece of art such as none
ever before seen
was born beneath the deft hands of said Master. He
arranged the conglomeration
with the genius of extrapolation
into a
"coherent piece that makes a statement."
Now a thing of beauty..
Behold!
The toppled tree once more stands- upright and bold!



okay. so now it's time to start
boiling eggs
and painting them
and hiding them
and hunting them
and finding all but three
and eating them
with salt sprinkled on
in salads
in sandwiches
and in
BIRD'S NEST SOUP
:-)


Very much a
Novice
in everything and all
though older than the hills
and ready for the call
can't say yay
can't say nay
can't say which-a-way
the wind'll blow today!
-//\\-
l
_______________________--
a vine crawled up a wall
found a crack beside a window facing
crept into the
sun-starved bedroom
beside the alarm clock
leaves all turned white from green
grew until ceiling came down
to touch the frailness of it

or: ________________________
A vine crawled up an outside wall
found a crack beside a window facing
crept into sun-starved bedroom
beside a sand dollar clock.
Grew until ceiling came down,
to touch the frailness of it.
Its living leaves eventually
turned all white from green;
Lost their chlorophyll.
__________________________________
we can see through the pebbles
to the center of the earth
like molten lava beneath the surface
this path wore the crust so thin
that only a few pebbles were left
(but oh how beautiful they are!)
there with the leaves and twigs touched and bent
by bare feet treading steadily,
kept warm in winter by some miraculous event.
OR"________:::::
we can see through the pebbles
to the center of the earth
like molten lava beneath the surface
this path wore the crust so thin
that only a few pebbles were left
(but oh how beautiful they are!)
with leaves and twigs
touched and bent by
bare feet treading

___________________________

changed my mind again
didn't I?
and why not?
what's wrong with that?
nothing's written in stone
don't the wind blow here and there
and what would it be like if not
it would be like old man what's-his-name
who's still working as a janitor
at the courthouse
the same old job he got straight out
of highschool
he never changed jobs.
he never changed. period.
That's fine for him. He seems happy.
But still...change is good
even changed minds.

OR
changed again
didn't I?
and why not?
what's wrong with that?
nothing's written in stone
don't the wind blow here and there
and what would it be like if not
it would be like old man what's-his-name
who's still working as a janitor
at the courthouse
the same old job he got straight out
of highschool
he never changed jobs.
he never changed. period.
That's fine for him. He seems happy.
But still...though he didn't change,
He changed.
Nothing changes in that
Everything's change.

-//\\-



Tailspin
That's what happens when
you break open a brown cattail!
Those fluffy little white things that
were trapped in there for so long
Are so ecstatic in the joy of being
let loose that all you have to do
is blow one gentle little puff of air
and Off They Go! In a Tailspin!!!!!
-//\\-:-)


the artist goes to the back room, and i
sit looking out the window noticing how
the sun sprarkles on the little pond in the
distance when a trout leaps for a
dragonfly, then
hearing a shuffling sound I look back into
the room again immediately forgetting
the show that other artist out there
was painting right before my very eyes, as
i looked__becoming once again
absorbed__ in these pieces this artist
brought out from where they were hidden..
:-)
-//\\-


Drawn out into the night:

Pulled outside,
to bathe in moonlight,
gaze at twinkling stars,
breathe in the aroma of honeysuckle, jasmine,
and other nightblooming blossoms.
drawn to step outside and bask in the romantic softness
of night in home gardens
or to stroll with a lover along a sweet country lane,
or step from off one's patio
to stroll across the dunes
then walk barefoot
through gently lapping, sandy wavelets at ocean's edge,
watch the fog come rolling in from far out over the waters
watch the moon's brightness turn to golden mist....
Or to stand on one's back porch a few minutes
then walk out into a winter wonderland of huge white snowflakes
fluffily smashing into surrounding forest,
making small silent sounds
blanketing the world with a white purity
that brings the reverence of deep soul silence
and magical light
as the sky clears deep and dark,
bringing back the moonglow
such as is known in no other way at midnight
in the middle of winter....
lighter than light
Wonder, wonder, wonderful wonder
of
Being drawn out into the night...
-//\\-



tromped and stomped through
the forest all day
never saw a thing
until back home in my back yard!
There they were! Them little gremlins was on my swing!
They tromped and stomped all through my house
They screamed and yelled and jumped,
made more mess than a passel o' wampus cats could
'til granny grabbed the gallberry broom
and chased them back out to the wood.!!!


Not a heart's wish for
Summer Forever,
for then there'd be no spring;
And if no spring,
no white plum blossoms to
rain on paths carpeted with
winter's softened leaves.
A much-needed rest is
winter's gift
to hearts weary and worn ...
but one thing good
and gladly seen
is seasons four in flow
let them all
--one by one--
softly come and go...
-...

Don't let summer stay forever
If it did there'd be no spring
And if no spring, no pink petals
would rain on paths carpeted with
snow softened leaves.
Without winter, when would we
ever get to sit beside the fire,
and dream?
No don't let any one season dig in
it's heels and stay.
Let them all come and go
Then come again another day.



:-)...Brain fires blazing and burning
endless wheels keep on turning.
All day long squeak, squeak,,
clankity, clanka mind-ring
then comes the night and the
mill keeps on grinding
morning light brings certain
wonder
remembering
dreams and things that
stole in with fodder so strange.
still--
'tis only more grist for the mill...
:-)




In a dream my puppy
ran away from me
I chased and chased and chased
crying "Oh where can you be!"
An old song came to mind
like a stream into the dream
about a little doggie whose
tail was cut short and his hair
was cut long or was it that his
hair was cut short and his tail
cut long?
Never mind, never mind said the Sandman
in the dream
just wake up and go eat your breakfast,
IT'S STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM!
:-) -//\\-






The door was open, so she walked right in,
with soft cat feet and a cheshire grin;
But lo and behold on the other side,
was a dirty rat! Well she nearly died!
What a scramble it was--nearly broke her neck,
couldn't get back out, but oh what the heck!
So settling down with needles and yarn
she knitted a Not-hole in the side of the barn,
then spent a long lifetime looking out
waiting for something to come about;
Some catastrophic thing must surely occur
some heavenly happenstance would happen to her.
But alas, alack! It was never to be
She grew old and ugly, could scarcely see.
Then early one morning like happened before,
the latch fell open, so she walked out the door.
-//\\-



The trail's overgrown
Since last the moccasins fell
On the brown carpet


I am struck dumb indeed.

I was out this morning flying.
Not in a plane, that is, but...well..just flying...
Looking to see what I could see
A trail of buzzards were following me
But i gave them the slip and landed here
(Flat on my belly--no landing gear!)
As far as being struck dumb is concerned
One little thing I long ago learned--
Some salty salts can be full of truth
be they grassy green or long of tooth.
:-) -//\\-


bones of beings scattered
all over dry and arid deserts
daily bleached snow white in the
blazing sun
drifting sands pile up high over these
old bones
where they melt into gleamingly
precious crystals...
-//\\-


In branches of tree
Squirrel has made it's own cushion
Sitting nest zazen
-//\\-


From nowhere at all
Bubbles and blossoms arise
Then they disappear
-//\\-




Clock or no Clock
Sun or not
If e'er a TIME
Was to be begot
To be would be it's lot
Needing no hands
Nor wheels to turn around
For no beginning or ending
Would or could be found




a day went flying
it's wings fluttered silently
across time's new face



the brilliance of sparkling ice,
The sound of silence falling into the glade;
Stop, look, and listen in contemplation.
It is a once in a lifetime opportunity

closing eyes to see
quietness is real
knots come easily unraveled
things fall into their
appointed place
movements lose frenzy
time disappears
everything flows smoothly

-//\\-



Grandma, grandma
Ten pounds heavier
Specs on the end of your nose
Tell me a story grandma!
Tell me the one about grandpa's toes!
Tell me the cat and the screendoor slam
Tell me the dog and the pig
Tell me, tell me, tell me quick
"Fore I'm all grown up
and too BIG!!!!



Grandma, grandma
Ten pounds heavier
Specs on the end of your nose
Tell me a story grandma!
Tell me the one about grandpa's toes!
Tell me the cat and the screendoor slam
Tell me the dog and the pig
Tell me, tell me, tell me quick
"Fore I'm all grown up
and too BIG!!!!


A Special Tree
Not knowing how the tree came to be
Nor whether to stand up to see or flee
The poet stood with mouth
agape
in
total
awe.
Not a word came to mind
not a verse or phrase or line:
He stood empty-headed
in
total
admiration.
Then,
breatheing in freshness of respiration,
words flowed in graduation

what a weird
inspiration!

-//\\-



Anguish, anguish, Oh
cant you see
woe, woe O woe is me
argue, argue, nobody'll agree
cain't win for losing no such
thing as cruising
Rough sailing yard'arms bruising
bang, bang slam bang my head
Beat me down, leave me dead.
Wiggle, waggle, straggle and strive
ain't quite dead, ain't quite alive
Sag down my chin, look at the dirt
I'll have to get better even to hurt.
Woe woe, oh woe is me
Anguish, anguish
hee hee hee... :-)

"oh pain! oh agony!" --one of the "little rascals"
(the one with the "personality"..... :-)




wondering today...
if yesterday was real...
building a beach shack
for a long stay...
riding the dunes pell mell
in dune buggies...
soaking in the sun
like turtles on logs
rolling in the surf
like dolphins
what's that?
did i hear some weird bird squawking "nevermore!?"

Will-o-the-wisps glowed all around
eeriely phosphorescent out in the swamps around
the pond where wave after wave of
croaking crescendos announced another twilight frog concert.
We waded knee-deep through sloshily waving water hyacinths,
deftly spinning into tiny impossible-to-find openings along the shore.
All alone.Never once thinking.No never thinking
Just drinking in the delight of another Twilight.
-//\\-




Ignis Fatuus the light that's not quite
a light but something in the night
Not an old dead stump, they say, that's
caught fire from some stray flash, a
lightning bolt, nor some little cloud
of swamp gas ignited by a
firefly sitting on it too long , but no.
It has to be something much more
exotic than that. Something mysterious.
eerie. hauntingly melancholy...like
purple orchid juice being squeezed out from
bamboo reeds and vaporizing before
it can be lapped up by Venus Fly Traps.
That's all.
-//\\- :-)



,

a fellow once said:
If mermaids existed,
and maybe they do
I'd go out looking for one
just like you
except she'd have legs
and I'd have to peel her scales just so...
(They'd be a little rough, don't you know)
If mermaids did exist
And if you were mine
I'd find us a deserted island,
pour us a little wine
Champagne for sure is what it'd be
A Champagne existence for you and me!
___ :-)


tat tvam asi
I am that thermometer out there on the wall
Watching my temperature fall in the fall
Then when comes some balmy skies
I hang out here and watch it rise
-//\\-



Mind: the sum total of all thoughts
My mind: the sum total of all my thoughts
or is it just that my mind is me tapping into Mind?
Or ...I am that cyclamen on the porch
that loves the cold winter weather
and the children's laughter as
they tumble and play in the snow,
and make balls of it to throw;
Flashing light from icy drops of
water which fell sometime in the night
from the sky then later softly changed
to fluffy white, delicious flakes of snow,
all those things; Indeed all I see,
all that ever has been or ever shall be:
All right here. All right now:
I am that.
-//\\-



And just exactly what is a hermit anyway?
What's the difference in a hermit and a homeless person?
Are hermits bums?
What makes a person become a hermit?
Does one have to be "tetched" to be a hermit?
(is there any such word as tetched? (yes.) ( I just checked the dictionary.)

Alone I go
And alone come back
And get myself some freedom.
Finally no dusty thoughts
Hang up the top of my head.
From here on in
I’m throwing out
True and false together.
Isn’t this
Cold Mountain’s
Finest flowing stream?
- The Monk Hsu Yun







Ryokan made me remember:
One mile from town, I found a small home.
I traveled back and forth on the road
that's lined with corn fields and patches of cotton,
In winter the aroma of chimney smoke-
In summer the smell of things green and juicy...
No one there had electricity
We sat on the porch until moonrise
then inside to light the lamp on the
kitchen table
writing our verses with stubby pencils
on old school tablets.
---//\\-


...And now that the end was near,
nearer than it was before
And tho he'd passed to the other shore
she saw him now in the light filled door,
The smell of the bacon frying on the stove
faded into the late afternoon sun
voices of children at play as she got up
from off the bed, and with the quickening pace
of her beating heart, she went to him.
took a hold of his hand held out to her,
and together they turned and disappeared
into the dusk...
Those are shreds of faded memories of
the ending:
"A White Bird Flying"
-//\\-



Face to Face...
I, Like the Queen of England In olden days
Did not like What the mirror says
You lie! You mirror on the wall!
I Am! The fairest of them all!
Face to face I faced her -that ugly old hag
That gnarled old creature, creaky bones in a bag,
Then with one fell swoop I banished them all
All mirrors in my mansion! (I personally broke the one in the hall)
Then face to face I stood before my self
Cleaned out all the crevices and dusted off the shelf
Then stood a mirror up_Up to my Very Soul
Who is this new-born baby? This wobbly little Foal ?!
I cannot see her face to face, for yet her image is dim,
But pray now for the grace to grow__ into the image of Him.
--//\\--



I favor the first one
fringe from grandma's lamp I see there
and from mama's window shade
This is more than beauty, this thing
these different things you have made
A whole new world,
A world that includes the old one just exited
and welcomes tomorrow and tomorrow as
shining pearls of never-ending todays...
From all the old eddas
and all their old creators you borrow
weaving into them yourself, your joy and your sorrow
They send me back and back to
something ....(what? I do not know)
Nor why....
but 'tis this from:
The Song Of The Sybil. (Voluspa)...
"I see Earth rising a second time
Out of the foam, fair and green;
Down from the fells fish to capture,
Wings the eagle; waters flow.
Unsown acres shall harvests bear,
Evil be abolished, Baldur return
And Hropt's hall with Hod rebuild,
Wise gods. Well, would you know more? "
-s




We played
on the earth
in the ravines
swinging across on green vines
sifting sand through daddy's hair
while he slept prone on the front porch's edge
we played and loved the earth
delighted in it
fell down on our face to it
and hugged it close
even during the winter when cold white snow
met our lips
we kissed the cold our tongue tasted it
like iced cones in summer it tasted good
ah the ravines the ravines
swinging across dropping into their oceans
climbing their cliffs
scaling their granite sides all the way up
to places where breatheing becomes rare
we spread our arms out to all space there is
shout into our flute of silence
our love song to our dearest darling,
living breatheing sweetheart earth
OR:

We played
on the earth
in the ravines
swinging across on green vines
sifting sand through daddy's hair
while he slept prone on the edge of dare.
We played and loved the earth
delighted in it
fell down on our faces to it
snuggledy-hugged it close.
Even during the winter when
cold white snow met our lips
we kissed the cold,
our tongue tasted it.
Like icy cones in summer it tasted good.
Ah the ravines! The ravines!
Swinging across, dropping into their oceans,
climbing their cliffs, scaling their sandy
sides all the way up to places where
breathing becomes rare.
We spread our arms out to all the
space there is and
shouted into its sound of silence.
.................

The laughing buddha
Travels.
We see him everywhere, bringing joy and smiles
to all.
He takes an old, ordinary, hum-drum day
and brightens it up into something
well worth hopping up from sleep to see--
makes
little squirrels all "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed"
causes
those who might plod downtroddenly to dance,
swing and sing
takes
work out of work,
finds nuggets of fairydust fun
brings life into places
where before there was none.
The laughing buddha's eyes
reflect fathomless skies
...with sparkle... :-)
-//\\-



Firelight glow from sunset
through windows stained with lace
outside sky makes satin of
indigo blue to upturned face
Turning away to inside shadows
softly merging to night
We'll light the candles later
when we're left with no more light.
-s


I see the bears
sleeping peacefully
in hibernation
looking so innocent.
But I tiptoe away
as quietly as I can,
not to awaken them.
Knowing
how very hungrily
rambunctious
they will be
when they rise from
that long sleep...




.... My little puppy dog barking at bees
chases me in circles; scratches fleas,
he can't come inside, mama won't let him,
soon as she's not looking, i'll go get him.
I'll hide him in my room, until it gets dark
then I'll put him on my bed, we'll have a lark,
we'll wrassle and play and have a good time,
tumble the covers, jump and climb.
I'll go to the kitchen at a quarter to ten
get him a steak bone and me some baked hen.
After we eat our fill, we'll drink us a drink
and mama won't know, she won't even think;
Everyone knows we can't never abide it:
with me in the house and my doggie outside it!
--//\\--



Let us be scalded hotly
in our eyes and on our rosy cheeks:
When the dark grip of agony
grabs us by the throat!
Where but in the dark
is there a place for light;
Where but in the dread
is there a place for flight?
The flight of gossamer wings
billowing sails outward full
bringing the ship of fate
out of the deadening lull
where the searing pain of inevitable tears
drop on every living day
like raindrops on the earth
each a lamp and shining spray
And as we sense our spirit confounded
We turn to our pillow to sleep
where peace enters our heart,
and we forget to weep.

What's this?
~Another flight of fantasy~




Here I am reclining,
looking up from ocean floor
watching a parade of fishes
Of every kind unseen before
watching sunlight filter down
From way up there so high
lighting the depths of deepest blue
with rays from distant sky
Breatheing in and breatheing out
as if I too were a fish
wondering if I'm now a-sleeping
and if this I wonder is a wish.


Running Free

The rising sun's streaming gold
upon lovely earth mother's cedar topped mounts.
She hearkens to tidings of love as we haste
to a myrtle grove greatly worn with footprints
from past sojourners who walked this way-
each and every soul seeking the bushes
which bear the fruit of many past season's dewberries
sweetly dripping sugar upon unclad feet.
We catch her thorns and vines that twine
about trunks of trees and crawl greenly
o'er hills that wind up and down cavernous
mountainsides.
We pick little lily-white flowers
that grow in cold-pale weakness beside streams
cascading down cliffs in frothy white waterspray.
Bathed by dampness, we feel the washing away of
all dreaded numbness, all dismal despair.
Here we stand: the children of tomorrow,
trembling in ecstasy;
All senses cheered, uplifted...
quakingly ready:
strength rising, rising, rising...
until off this way we run! Over hill, over dale,
through bramble and brae
like little lambs astray
and all along the way
we shed all covery skin crying out to the wind:
"How now, spirit! whither wander you?"
And in laughter we gleefully sing out too,
"through flood, through fire,
I do wander everywhere!"
Come along with me!
Let us all run free!
-//\\-






That fossil could be somewhere.
Maybe buried deep in an ocean floor,
Or somewhere you'd never expect
Like under the steps at your back door! :-)
Funny thing about it though, is this,
That even though we know it can't exist
There it is --as plain as day--and
Now that it's there, it can't go away!
-odmmb





That Ezra Pound

Had a pretty good thought in his head

when he picked up his pen and said,

"What thou lovest well remains
the rest is dross,"
He said what I really, really love
is my heritage.
He said, "whose world is it, anyway?"

mine?
theirs?
Or does it even exist?"
So in mine own little rattlebrain head,
I take to heart those words he said,

I sit here in the shade
and "get to work and get it made!"
I create mine own
Bright sunshiny days
and skies of blue;
a little picnic by the creek

and going for walks with you.

I fill it full of birds
singing in the trees

and misty mornings
and a soft, windy breeze.

Rainy days, and storms

and waves to sweep the beaches.
Nuts and berries too,
and big, juicy peaches.
I light candles in it,
and put them on the sill
then I walk out in the evening
to hear the whip-poor-will.
There is no end of things to love
in this inner world of mind

and when I dwell therein
this is what I find:
"what thou lovest well remains,
and all the rest is dross."
-//\\-





abra, cadabra, hocus pocus,
dominocus!
Shazam!

The magic of the night
comes creeping in
Words start to flow
from a magic pen
"ordinary" disappears
with one wave of a magic wand
out o'er the land where spiders fall
upon dewy grasses to weave their magical webs
of silken threads into intricate patterns
which will surely enthrall
All
Who come near to the magic of night
wrapped warm
around a little pool of fright
made by some magical new formula
floating along the surface in swirls
UP! UP!
Abra Cadabra, Cala ma zoo
Hasbar discovers library magic:
Hasbar learned to read! What a marvelous thing!
He astonished the court, the queen and the king,
he picked up the poets and such as that
He plucked down the tomes, both thin and fat
He read all day and he read all night
by sun and moon and by candle light
But alas and alack his magic grew rusty
His Bag O' Tricks more dirty and dusty
But his Brain grew bigger and bigger by far
Than his elvin body no bigger than a jar,
"til finally at last nothing was left
But a humongous head on the library shelf!
-//\\-


Me and Vincent Van Gogh
Look at my Paintings
and you will see
little bits and pieces
of Van Gogh with me.
Sometime you can see him,
Most times you can't,
but his spirit is there
in everything I paint.
Look for little things,
like a rickety gate
or a quaint old wheelbarrow
things like that, today out of date.
As far as being crazy,
well maybe we are
but being a little crazy
is much more fun by far!!! :-)
-//\\-



There once was a tree made of oak
tall and leafy with the croak
of a little green frog
who lived on a log
that fell from the tree when it broke.
-//\\-


The monument lives
To artist unknown
Imaginary forms
Mentally grown
The mounument's there
Textured to touch
Not so silent
Not very much
The monument speaks
Loud and clear
Something of greatness
Commemorated here.
-//\\-

the moon must be full!
but i didn't see it this time...
i was too busy playing hop-scotch out on the sidewalk
with Nell and Betty and Jane.
We were on the corner by the streetlight
until it was almost ten o'clock,
then we had to go shower and shave
and get to the office before the nightwatchman
closed up the cafeteria
or else Miss Greer might miss her morning tea
steaming hot and dry
and full of Joshua tree blossoms...


making art,
is an inner thing.
it's not something
we talk about much....
it's something we do.
It happens all by itself,
in an unplanned natural way.
All of a sudden we are
making something
we get lost in the process
and don't wake up
until it's finished.
-odmmb

At night
deep in the everglades
a bluecat quietly roams
purring
soft furpads tread upon
deep, fathomless pools of
ancient lore
leaving never a trace or print
in the wake of it's being...
-odmmb


Went to the trough to slop the hawgs
then ran around front to call up the dawgs
Minnie and Molly and Mary were there
talking to Maude and Mittie and Claire,
Slid on brakes and did what I ought,
no way, no way would I ever be caught,
talking to girls on such a fine day,
I d'ruther be sweatin' and pitchin' hay!
-//\\-



I was sound asleep in my bed last night,
snoring up a storm,
when a tree fell out in the forest
out there all forlorn
Not a soul was there, not for miles around
when that old tree it fell, it came a crashing down,
woke me up it did, that awful silent noise
scared the living daylights
outta this old man
and boys,

The answer is:
Yes! "If a tree falls in the forest and no one
is there, will it make a sound?"

Yes!
it most uncertainly do!
(and it'll scare the cold tar outten you too)
-odmmb







So there I was.
Looking at Willow's Rose and Feather
and Reading Voluspa together
with all the others
who, like brothers
run leaping o'er fields of heather.
Into merrie old England
across the channel
Where old Uriah's asleep
in warm red flannel. :)
I know a tree, named Magnolia
Sparkling showers are shed on it's leaves
That drip dew, onto the forest floor
where grow the ferns that wave evergreen
standing o'er that flowing spring
Near it a bower whence now there come
The Maidens of the old South
Maybelle, Marie, and Marilee:
The laws they laid for their Southern Men
They fixed forever and their fate they sealed
When clutching their deeds like weapon's wield
Equality's first step was then begun
Onward they'll march until it's won.
-odmmb


What wonderful daydreams! Ah....to be sure:

A sandcastle would be perfect
bare feet to walk around
a little while to tarry there
then mosey on back to town
rummage up and down the back streets
then out to the boulevard
watch the pounding of chestnuts
in sombody's back yard
After that it's off to the forest
where rivers run swift and cold
mossy green coolness in the shadows
birdwings flashing gold
No there is no castle on the earth
can ever hope to compare
with the way we constantly build:
Our castles in the air.
-odmmb

The whole world is a stage
waiting for you to step on
"Break a leg" dear players
recite your lines, dance your dance,
sing your song!
A star will appear upon your door
bright neon lights will glow
Strut your stuff, boys and girls
let your talent show!
Just one at a time take center stage
to do your own solo
As the drama of life plays itself out
around and around we go!
-odmmb

Mighty Verbal Sword Marching everywhere!
Writing words of light upon vibrating air
Like showers in spring the worddrops rain
Washing the whole world clean again!

-//\\-



when moonlight shines
upon the dunes
we'll stroll along
and sing old tunes
we'll laugh and play and harmonize
with wind and sand and summer skies...
-odmmb



gargoyles.
on the wall.
With bars in front of their faces leering all
at the poor unfortunate wretch upon
the bed
suffering delusions in a nightmare of mental mayhem
gargoyles they were, and frightening! Though
unable to break through and
attack.
Gargoyles are supposed to scare away
evil spirits...
not scare the bejeebies outta the good guys!
-odmmb



A long time ago
When I first started painting,
I painted me in my bedroom.
I stood up close to the wall with my back to it
taking a piece of charcoal marked out the outline
on the wall by the door. on the left-hand side.
Then with my brand-new oil paints I painted.
Stealing glimpses of myself in the closet mirror
to see how I looked wearing my blue robe
secretly admiring my own hair and stuff.
Days went by. I worked and worked breathlessly
lost in, absorbed in, totally taken up in,....myself.
Then one day. There! She was done.
Not looking at all like me. A strange woman stood there.
By the door. on the left-hand side
Watching me. Every move I made, she saw.
So many times did she startle me, making me jump outta my skin
at those times when I would forget for a minute that she was there
only to suddenly be confronted by her again!
That eventually I called in the painter of walls.
The one in the paint-spattered coveralls
who called himself the lowly painter. But no lowly painter was he
to me
That woman on the wall soon disappeared into one of Plato's
forms
The ones that are still there when the stuff they are made of
is gone forever.
never to be seen nor heard of again.
-odmmb


"No, not necessary to call them by name,
for surely they do bear fruit, all the same
as every branch of life on the tree
we'll taste their fruit and we shall see
Yes! For ourself we'll come to know
if they should stay or should they go... -//\\- :-)



Those Blue Velvet Things:
The Swampcat would pick them off
and put them all in a white canvas bag
Which she would wear out there
Slung haphazardly
over her shoulder with no care.
She'd fill it so full that soon the heaviness of it
would feel like a Smoky Mountain boulder
Which of course would make her hungry
For some real blueberries,
Instead of all these weird-looking little people
and bugs and even one village church with a steeple
That she picked from that blue velvet ART
So now that she's taken them all apart
She's going to give them to Millicent,
or perhaps to Jake-
Who, I'm sure will enjoy many games of fake,
Which is the one that always begins, "see...."
And ends when Ellie gets stung by a bee,
But no matter, no matter, 'tis only imaginary
She's now marched off to Tipperary!
-//\\-


Water Paintings
knobby knuckled, stubby fingers,
reaching out to swirl the waters
making forms of folks and birds and
whorls un-named of all manner of shapes
and colors with dark and light
and shades of shadows thick and slight
knees bent, squatting on haunches
sitting on heels in unearthly delight.
beside living streams of time
creating masterpieces one after another
upon living waters
with one outstretched finger.



Like in a cavern where water drips
down from above
forming stalactites
they grow longer and longer and longer
and the drops drop to the floor full of limestone particles
forming stalagmites
they grow up taller and taller and taller...
that's the way it is with
these words and these pictures __
they drip, drip, drip ___forming
whatever they form.
--odmmb

It's all very plearsurable, this unreal,
imaginary world we live in
making pictures and poems and thinking thoughts
then writing them down willy nilly
here and there and reading all the other's too
and looking at all the new and delightful
creations
smiling in pure delight,
chuckling too, sometimes laughing out loud,
and once in a while being moved to tears.
But that's all it is...
an unreal, imaginary world
like living in a play we're writing ourselves,
acting in ourselves, (sometimes playing
several parts...)--
One day
we'll ring down the curtain,
take one last bow, blow kisses out into
that great cavern of darkness beyond
the footlights...
then with one last bow, one last blissful smile,
we'll disappear into the wings offstage...
-odmmb

No! We're chubby little children
at the park
in the big, big sandbox
We each have our own little plastic pail
with our own little plastic shovels
and we have all sorts of little plastic
things to make our imaginary castles
and roads and bridges and little towns
and gardens and all the while not knowing
that only we can see them.
All the adults sitting around smoking cigarettes,
drinking coffee from their thermos,
and staring off into the distance-
-when they look our way all they see is
a bunch of little kids
In a big box full of damp sand.
-odmmb



Exotic birds.
Odd little bots.
Electrical aura's.
More atomic dots...
~ ~ ~
making way upward
day after day
stepping stones to no where
up and away
-//\\-


The door was open, so she walked right in,
with soft cat feet and a cheshire grin;
But lo and behold on the other side,
was a dirty rat! Well she nearly died!
What a scramble it was--nearly broke her neck,
couldn't get back out, but oh what the heck!
So settling down with needles and yarn
she knitted a Not-hole in the side of the barn,
then spent a long lifetime looking out
waiting for something to come about;
Some catastrophic thing must surely occur
some heavenly happenstance would happen to her.
But alas, alack! It was never to be
She grew old and ugly, could scarcely see.
Then early one morning like happened before,
the latch fell open, so she walked out the door.
-//\\-


The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the path's of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
twenty-third psalm of David

--------------------------------------------------


Sunday morning we'll be walking
those wide, wide planks again.
Across those sun-bleached expanses
warm under bare soles, no
splinters to stab into more pain.
"Blow winds blow," will be our song
as we watch our prow skim along
leaving a trail of frothy white
We'll sail right on into the night...
-//\\-



Soft mist settles in:
Knowing the unknowable
The mist becomes rain
-//\\-


Seeing here a path of light
feeling glimmers of light and hope
streaming out of the green O's and 1's
struggling to catch a few of the
drops of light, these drops from
a glimmering, shimmering rainbow.
-//\\-

A passage of light
To beauty, peace, joy, life, love
Eternal Heaven
-//\\-



many's the night the moon's shined in my open window
slept with pillow on sill watching the night with nothing
between me and the dark silhouettes of trees against the
starry sky ..sometimes all blurred with tears like van gogh's
thick globs of paint long ago, sleeping with those
gauzy curtains pulled to and later soft breezes stirring
oh what joy! when the cool winds of midsummer nights come
to caress our face! :-)
-//\\-

turning within
while at the same time
radiating out
-.............

It's Sunday Morning
and many a man sits
on a hard pew
looking attentive
while his mind and heart is|
out on the sea sailing blissfully.
All alone in sweet solitude his soul
has found it's own cathedral...
-
OR:
sitting on a hard pew
looking attentive
mind and heart at sea
sailing blissfully.
all alone in sweet solitude
a soul has found it's
own cathedral...
........

As the Old Ones in their lives of
simplicity have spoken of
The land of Ultimate Bliss
we still in the simplicity of today
see the land of Ultimate Bliss
complete with soft light and the
music of harmonious voices in subtle
wondrous sounds still shining without
obstruction into an infinite
number of immeasurable eons...
-//\\-


Inner outer world
Breathe along in harmony
With cycles of life
-//\\-


yesterday faded
into what is now today
bringing tomorrow


yesterday the sparrow thought
today
which was tomorrow then,
would be different,
but now that
that tomorrow
which is now today, is here
it looks exactly the same.
the sparrow's still a sparrow

Found the mirror on a back
shelf in the pantry..it was dirty, dusty,
couldn't see a thing in it,
with trembling hands wondering
what I would see when I looked
at me..., I cleaned the
mirror throughly, rubbing until it was
clear and transparent...
-//\\-


Hermit's garden breezy,
Warm and sweet all day,
Spring still half in, half out;
On my lone doorstoop,
Still and quiet,
Deep in meditation,
I remain fully aware
of my surroundings.
~~~
OR: Hermit's garden breezy,
Warm and sweet all day,
Spring still half in, half out;
Sitting on the doorstep
Being still and quiet,
Fully awake, aware.
j~~~~J~~

after windy storm
laughing, running, happy child
plays tag with wavelets
-//\\-




Like winter snowflakes
Wisteria blooms raining
Down in early spring
-//\\-




-//\\-



In the stillness of timeless time,
leaf turns loose from tree
and drifting off to sleep
snuggles down
to ground
-//\\-


Philosophy of Flowers:
Bloom in winter,
die in spring,
Sleep all summer long
in a dirt-clod cave
and you'll never have
to smell the stink of
sweat,
pay an obscene Air
Conditioning bill,
or drive a convertible
with the top down.
odmmb

It was among the ruins of twenty-five
lives past that he first conceived the
idea of the next.

In that poor innocent heart a falsehood
was conceived and uttered, choking back
the words of truth that would have swung
wide the gates of paradise.



Immaculate conception
Matter/non-matter,
conceiving the inconceivable.




Key words in Ayn Rand's objectivism:
This includes a respect for one's own freedom and
individuality as well as each other individual's
freedom and individuality.
An Objectivist believes man should neither be
sacrificed to anyone else nor sacrifice anyone else to himself."


Well, whatta ya know!
The sun did come up this morning, after all!
It was so dark right after midnight
We knew there was no way any measly
little ball of burning gasses no bigger
than old sol would ever have a chance
of getting through, but
LO!
BEHOLD!
Looka there, won't you!
It's morning again!!!
Great Day In The Morning!!!!
YEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeHHHHhhhAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!
odmmb3/2003


Winter came along
gradually,
passing through the last flares of
blazing autumn's
leaf-burning brightness,early morning
frosts, and finally into the total
undressing of summer's
green from every twig on every
branch of every tree.
and now...
There they are!
lifting their sunlit arms to
the blue heavens above,
Bare, uncovered, unhidden,
more beautiful than ever!
-//\\- 3/2003

They are busy all the time
so taken up with what they are doing
that thoughts of what they did
yesterday,
or what's to become of them tomorrow
never even enter into their heads.
They have fun, they laugh, they play
they dig, walk, scratch, sing, holler,
sleep, leapfrog, swim, scrub, wash,
weave, build, throw, slash, plant,
Oh my goodness! There's no end!

...................................

not knowing each moment
what will be next
watching events flow
come and go
from here and there and
everywhere and nowhere
all at once.
some moments cluster
and clump
like the flames flickering
on the hearth
like the logs turning to ash
lasting longer than
the shadow of a bird
flying overhead
a little longer...
but all events flow
all come,
All go....

That one is without form,
without characteristics,
without root, without source,
and without any dwelling place,

Resting all night long
sleeping deep and true
dreaming dreams unknown
wake in morning dew
living life each day
in grace and beauty sweet
walking through a world
of flowers at your feet.
-//\\-


I am MANY all rolled into ONE!
Just about everyone I've ever met,
read, talked with, or listened to...
left a little piece of them in me;
Therefore although I'm only one,
there's more than one in me, you see!
-//\\-



Opening lines of Book XI, Iliad rewritten:

And now as Dawn rose from her couch beside me, harbinger of light alike to mortals and immortals, I went into the gallery to see what the hands of these immortal artists had wrought.
I took my stand by the huge black wall in the chamber which was middlemost of all, where my computer reposes, so that I might see farthest on either side of the world, on the one hand towards the works of Steve, and on the other towards those of Lars- for these two heroes, well-assured of their own strength, had valorously drawn up their paintings and posted them on the board.
There I took my stand, and raised a cry both loud and shrill that filled the whole house with noise, giving my family the heart to come running and with all their might, so that they might see also what marvelous works the Day and Night has brought.
Woo!!
(what fun)


Lines from Book XXIV,Iliad, rewritten
After the funeral, the family now living in different houses, went their ways- each to his own abode. There they made ready their supper, and so did the son. He then bethought of the blessed boon of sleep; but still wept for thinking of his dear father, and sleep, before whom all things bow, could take no hold upon him. This way and that did he turn as he yearned after the might and manfulness of that dear one; he thought of all they had done together, and all they had gone through both on the fields of battle between adolescent and elder, and on the waves of the weary sea of everyday life. As he dwelt on these things he wept bitterly and lay now on his side, now on his back, and now face downwards, till at last he rose and went out as one distraught to wander upon the seashore. Then, when he saw dawn breaking over beach and sea, he got into his car, and drove around and all over the city, up one street and down the other, aimlessly. Thrice did he park near the cemetery and drag himself into it and round the tomb of his father, and then went back into his car, thinking of the body of his father in the ground full length and with its face upwards. He could not bear the thought of it being disfigured, for he could only think of him as he was with all the might and manfulness of his earlier years,... Not as he knew he himself would now--and too soon-- become.


Dogdays...Don't hear nothin out there and the air's so heavy you could cut it with a butterknife. Don't have no idea where all the birds are. What do they do? All go down to the swamps and bury themselves in mud or something? But you sure cant blame 'em! It's so hot out there it'd singe the feathers right off their bodies if they tried to fly around. Got up this morning before daylight thinking maybe it'd be a little cooler, but after sweatin' it out all night, it was no cooler, so we went on down to the watermelon patch and picked us a good mellow ripe one for breakfast, and dropped it hard on the ground so it'd bust half in two, then we ate the middle heart part where there's no seeds to worry with then we all picked a few more and hauled 'em on down to the creek. Now that's one place you can cool off anytime. That water's always cold enough to freeze the horns off a billygoat no matter how hot it gets. We put our watermelons in that cold water and then crawled right in behind 'em. Pretty soon everybody in the whole community was gathering up there in that one spot. Which everybody expected anyway, since that is the "Oh-fishul" swimmin' hole fer miles around! 'Bout dinner time it was, when Mama and Papa themselves come on down too, 'n Mama, she brought some biscuits and sidemeat all packed up in a syrup bucket for us to eat along with the watermelon and a pile of cantalopes brother brought up from his patch over by the holler. Well I tell you we was all makin' so much noise by that time we forgot all about it being dogdays and no birds anywhere. I heard Mavis tellin' Herman she would even sleep all night right over there on that sandbar if it weren't for gettin' toted off by mosquitoes! Well tomorrow I know we'll all be out there in that cotton patch agin, prayin' for a thunderstorm by the time it gits to be three o'clock! I jist hope we make it to git all that cotton in, but I tell ya, these dogdays sure can make a lazybone out of a body! And I mean Anybody!!! Amen, to that, Brother!!


Puddlehunting!
Me and my border collie
Went out one day
Trusty old rusty old camera
would swing and sway
hanging nonchalantly by it's straps
from my proud shoulders!
No luck! Nary a puddle was seen!
Ooops! we forgot
It has to rain long enough to get the earth
all besot
and soaked fuller with water than
it can hold
before it collects itself into
little mirrors of up yonder!
..... :)


"I don't care what you call me just so you call me when it's time to eat!"

My friend, "Katy" said, I have lots of names.
Three of the kids call me Mommy,
one calls me MOM
two call me Mother
and I think the oldest two call me The Old Lady
George calls me Honey
Mom calls me Kathleen
Dad calls me Katy
At the market, they call me Mrs. Jones
At Geo's office they call me George's wife,
Some guy on a bench at the park called me Sweetie Cakes
I have been called good lookin'
I'm also called
Sandi's Mom
My client
This Patient
A customer
Old lady Jones
and that's just a few of the good things I've been called
who knows what else I might be called !


Multiple Choice

All my other selves and me
we are many yet we are one
where does each self end
many selves have begun
some have names, some do not
some awaken in the morning
some sleep all day somewhere in the misty
back trails of the garden
I sit on the very edge of the river
peering into the unruffled waters
to see reflections there
untill a pine cone falls with a splash
from this tall tree
Now my image is shattered
I see many pieces of me.
-sef


the spaces

it's kinda like breathing...we notice the breathing in
and the breathing out, but we don't notice the spaces
in between each breath, but they are there...

and heartbeats...when we check our pulse, we count
the beats,...but there are spaces between the beats,
too.

we don't notice the spaces between words like this
on a page, but there they are.

There's many different forms of space that go un-
noticed....including space between thoughts...

spaces and things in spaces .....__all one. ~~ :-) ~~~


Wei Wu Wei, they say:
having no intention at all,
or at least not enough to mention,
was always, however full of attention,
almost always...
very observant was he, never missed a thing
he was living glad,
for he never, ever, almost never intended,
but he always, and forever attended...
well, almost always!
(they say)
:-) -//\\-


Living "with intention"
sounds a lot like swimming upstream.
Not impossible, but very difficult,
requiring much effort and many time outs for resting.
-//\\-


Mind clouds hover around
lofty mountain peaks,
towering pines whisper
with rhythmic flow of wind.
In darkness, there is light,
In shadows, there is shining clarity.
Like the clear, still waters of The Big Lagoon
wrapt up in mists when ocean fogs roll in,
endless eons dissolve into nothingness,
each melted into the other.
In this illumination,
all straining, all striving is forgotten.
-//\\-odmmb

In their naivete,
they did not know life is short,
so they lived forever
in one moment's time.

Naivete
How could one so unworldly,
so unknowledgeable
of the ways of the sophisticate
know of darkness?
Or have taste of such?
Nay.
In her naivete,
she did not know life is short:
So she lived forever
in one moment's time.
...

How could anyone,
Being so unworldly,
know about darkness?
Knowing nothing of the
ways of the sophisticate
How could anyone have
taste of such?
No, in pure naivete,
that one did not know
life is short,
therefore lived forever,
in one moment's time.
...


On My Own
Here I am.
Trying to find my way back home.
Looks like I'm on my own.
Have to find my own way
I know I'll know it when I find it,
but that's all.
I'm having a little problem here...
little bit lost you see.
But it looks like I'm going to have to find my own way.
Can't ask people for directions.
Everyone I ask keeps telling me
opposite ways to go.
When I try to follow them I find myself going
around and around and around
in circles. Never getting anywhere,
having that old "deja vu all over again!"
One thing that makes it difficult
is that I don't really remember where I came from.
Now if only I could remember a little something about it,
where it was, which way I came to get here,
and little things like that,
I think maybe it would help a lot.
And I do think I sorta, maybe-- recognize a landmark
here and there--
And of all the things everybody tells me about which way to go,
seems like I do pick up a few helpful hints from them all.

Self
Beside the vegetable garden out back.
Just sitting there.
Aware of the heat of the sun shining on back,
little fluffy white clouds floating high in the dark blue sky,
birds flittting around the bird feeder
singing and chirping all around in the trees;
aware of dirt on bare feet
resting on cool grass,
aware of thoughts streaming along in mind
like mountain brook tumbling over rocks
passing quietly through deep gorges:
Aware of all these things
as if watching them
like watching the butterfly nearby
as it flits from flower to flower;
aware of breatheing, of heart beating,
of hair on head, and sweat on brow;
Aware of many, many things,
and all at the same time
unconsciously
aware of many, many more things....
and then it dawns:
Self is in that "vast empty shining field
from which we have never been separate,"




in a state of bliss
observing
all these things.
So with little bits of the map here and little bits there,
and what with me piecing them all together
so they make sense to me,
so I can understand them enough to keep me traveling on,
I am getting there. I feel it.
I can almost smell the air of home atmospheres.
The closer I get,
the more familiar things are.
The closer I get,
the more I see of all those others
holding also their crazy quilt maps,
all pieced up, and sewn together.
I recognize them, and they do me too.
We smile at each other. And nod.
And wish each other a good journey.
We say to one another with a friendly grin,
Happy trails!


They are called selfish if
they love themselves.
But if they do not first love themselves,
They cannot love others.
If they want and you want
then their want must come first
If they did not lift their own cup
They would die of thirst
So let them drink from life
long and sweet and true
Then when their cup runneth over
They'll hold it out to you.


Mema, Sef 'n I,
All my other selves and me
we are many yet we are one
where does each self end
many selves have begun
some have names, some do not
some awaken in the morning
some sleep all day somewhere in the misty
back trails of the garden
I sit on the very edge of the river
peering into the unruffled waters
to see reflections there
untill a pine cone falls with a splash
from this tall tree
Now my image is shattered
I see many pieces of me.


The brushwood gate itself to cry
raindrops dript off, shaken nigh
so that the self was not the same
when nature gave a double name
neither two but one appalled
when only one of two were called.
Whereupon this outdoor throne
made of a stump when tree was gone
we sit in silence with the dove
Co-supremes the stars and love.


Nature grows: worldly domain
extended outward again
whose twigs like the willow
skillfully bent
uprooted daily and onward sent
When to thy bed thou dost go
What worldly feelings thou dost know
Leave behind with pitcher and ring
only thyself thou must bring.



Real self:
walking around in a bubble of being
lively buoyant, versatile,
easily jumping from one log to another
across cold water creek
getting to the other side, not
looking for anything in particular,
enjoying this wonderful, beautiful
day in the middle of Blackwater River
Forest.
Eating chinquapins and wild persimmons


mama's little cookies,
sweet little cookies all
rolled out on a board of flour
shaped in a big flat ball
tasty to the tongue,
oh what a delectable treat
shaped like a star, a bell,
or big fat gingerbread feet!


hung out to dry,
draped like drying figs o'er bone-white leafless twigs
what name to choose which to use
lotta fun to be more than one
be turtle when time to hurtle
softly and slowly gently and lowly
through the tall grass on gleaming brass
later to a spring of showers and
bowers and green ivy towers
here april flowers bloom in misty twilight gloom
with the brotherly love of phil's gentle glove
worn in Unity and with much impunity
who might then as a novice in zen
study to find the way of which the masters say
will lead to enlightenment.
but ah shucks--a spear doth then appear
to ask what light in yon window breaks
cutting through the corn one frosty october morn
So the question still remains;
who am i why am i here where am i going
am i only one am i many
will this path lead to enlightenment
where did this path start where does it end
does it wind it's way through all eternity with
no beginning and no end

tracks imprinted patterns woven among the rocks and caves old bones making note of long forgotten graves no one can say I was not here my tracks my self will prove I myself someday will probe into my ancient groove


Your Self Portrait I worked and worked and worked for years and years and years, meticulously drawing lines and putting on paint, filling in spaces both positive and negative. Worried a lot about perspective, composition and values. "Since this is a Self Portrait," I thought, "I must be the best that I can be. I want this to be true... a good likeness... of me." So time went by. I labored long, carefully adding layer upon layer of color and doing all I possibly could do. To paint a worthy Self Portrait, with your approval in view. Then finally one day, "it's done," I said, "there's nothing more I can do."Stepping back at last to look at me, what I saw was You. --.



Winter could be spent
listening to whisper of snowflakes
falling into the silence of
evergreens' waiting arms.
Following slushy wet footprints
through deep, white snowfalls;
Scribbling lines on pages of birchbark
making up things like this
about living in the mountains,
while sipping sassafras tea
steaming hot and sweetened with
wild honey..
aye, but far from being an escape
from the ordinary world, this
solitudinous mountain life
is an ordinary world....
-odmmb


Cloudy morning, layer on layer,
from white to indigo dark;
Shady path around pond lingering
in last night's dark,
Not a sign of anyone anywhere to be seen.
Little creek under bridge pure clear flow,
No place, no where, could be
any more so beautiful than this.
Birds sing in tune with my own heart.

Today the sun hides
Behind winter's cold wetness
Let's build a hearth fire
~ ~
This morning while tramping
My imaginary snow three feet deep
I came upon enchanted woods
Where they say some little people sleep
The snow was melted away
Imaginary violets peeked out
All over the forest floor
The sun was shining
down through misty mist
A sight never seen before
Long glowing rays of beams of light
Streaked through trees so fine and rare
I held my breath for the longest time
Just for the joy of being there ...


My home is in the deep forest of
An Imaginary Island:
I walk daily around the edge of the shore,
then sit for a while with my bare feet in the
little waves that languidly lap in and
out around my ankles.
Tall trees above my head swing and sway
as warm wind passes;
I drink spring water from green leaves.
I weave willow branches to form
a little basket then rest beside a tree
while sipping cold, wild tea.
I lie down between clean, rainwashed
sheets woven by my own hands...
I've taken my body away,
far away from the daily grind...
filling, flooding my mind with
clean, clear waters of being.
..................



midnight hours trouble us not
when stern ungentle sounds without
stirr'd with wind rattle screen
rise and fall, blowing between
flashing atoms of light
making moments eerily bright
then darker still than darkest night
wall and locust trees roaring
encounter clouds downpouring
lashing, issuing torrents from all
directions at once
the honey tree beside the barn
where bees were buzzing yesterday
whipping, tearing, then upon the
ground it lay.
lopp'd and hew'd, it's leaves, twigs,
and honeycomb home
strewed from hither to yon.
Now passing by, the storm is gone
outer and inner calm together
speaking in silence louder than weather.
-odmmb

-------------------------------------------


Home!
Earth blends into heaven:
Ridges and valleys,
Hollows and hills
Misty blue mountains
And whippoorwills
tumbling streams,
waters that fall,
moonlight nights
a yodeling call...
hillbilly holler that's where i's born
in early october on a frosty-cold morn
growed up tall and sassy too
scrounging for food with my sister Sue
blackberries, peaches, figs and nuts
no peeling, dicing, chopping or cuts
we ate off the tree, the bush and the vine
We even ate seeds off a loblolly pine;
Scuppernongs, plums, roots and greens,
grits and eggs and butterbeans,
tomatoes and peas with a little corn pone
we'd eat and eat 'til the cows come home.

Oh dear sweet earth, your spirit calls
Your tumbling streams, your water falls;
Your misty moon, your mountainous stone,
Oh how we love you, our Home Sweet Home!
-odmmb


------------------------------------------
The leafy path up to this hut
under the trees
is quiet, peaceful,
Far away from bustle;
An open door faces
southern sunshine.
After sundown, the air grows
fresh and cool,
then a light rain starts;
All night long it drips from
the eaves;
Morning finds the green pond
full of singing frogs.
Leaves fall and float
where no green lily pads grow
Anyone could be at ease
Wearing a loose robe
Simple, clean, ordinary,
They could be themselves
No longer needing to
practice calming of the heart.




...there's no place like home."

a heart that is lonely
has not yet found it's home


little hut in the forest
hidden by greening vine
a place invisible to all others
a place that's only mine

a bed of embers upon the hearth
with ashes swept up clean
windows open to the world
and beams of light between...
-odmmb

--------------------------------------


In my home and in my room
my own closet,
my bed my dresser
my books
I look out my own windows
at the world
when I wake up in the morning
I hug my pillow
snuggle into my covers.
And no matter how humble it may be,
it's the lap of luxury. because
it's home.
-odmmb


-------------------------------------


this little spot is like paradise.
there's many many things to be done.
everyday.
one little walk around the trail
reveals many pleasant
projects to look forward to
many beauties to behold.
Comfort dwells here
and peace
and love.
it's
HOme
-odmmb

------------------------------------------



No humbler home than the nest
of bluebirds in the tree
no humbler home than mine
the one that's made for me
no humbler home could there be
but none more lovely still
than my home here in the woodlock
with the wonderful whippoorwill.
-odmmb


-----------------------------------------

Home
is at the end
of the smooth-worn road:
Across the last little
bridge over the clean, clear
waters of the running stream.
The western sky is full of setting sun;
The kind-hearted one greets me with
a warm welcome.
-odmmb

---------------------------------------------

i shall cut some small trees
with my little hatchet
arrange them just so: then latch it
all in together into a small hut,
then with a few stones i've gathered
i'll build a hearth for when it's weathered
into my home.
here. solitarily alone
in happiness
I shall watch autumn freeze into fall
followed by whispering snowflakes and all
that winter means tramping through it's stuff
sticking to my boots where in the warm rough
of woolen socks keep my mortal feet warm
until spring comes with the beauty of that river there
lapping at the doorway of my warm hut where
I dip it up
use it to wash my garments.
until one hot day in late summer again I watch
these new, leathery green leaves the spring flood begot
soften with frost and once more bring me back again
to the same different place
i was in
back then
-odmmb


-------------------------------------------------------------------



"home is where the heart is"
whoever said that jazz
spiraled into a jumble of beating
drums like gazing into empty skies
where no clouds
learn the meaning of mountain peaks
covered with clouds
looking like smoke from a distance
blues being sung in dark shadowy
rooms on Bourbon Street
New Orleans Preservation Hall
Oh ye babbling brook of thoughts!
Oh ye Traveling Mind!
Where is your HOME?
It is where your heart is, they say!

-odmmb


-----------------------------------------


Home, sweet home, there's
no place like it.
That must be because home is
the roots of our tree,
the place where we relax, let go,
and do nothing but be.




---------------------------------------------


...there's no place like home."

a heart that is lonely
has not yet found it's home


little hut in the forest
hidden by greening vine
a place invisible to all others
a place that's only mine

a bed of embers upon the hearth
with ashes swept up clean
windows open to the world
and beams of light between...
-odmmb



--------------------------------------------------------------


My home here in the wood
has only roof and floor
No walls to hamper living
No need for window or door.
-odmmb


----------------------------------------


here I sit at home by the fire
Where I'd much rather be by far
The car's in the driveway
turning into rust
If I had to go at all,
I'd rather be bussed.
But the mall it don't have nothing
I'll need for weeks to come
I don't want no gewgaws,
Or i'd run out for some
So let the traffic roar
Let the busses bray
I'll stick here by the hearth
For yet another day.--
-odmmb


------------------------------------------------

I want it ALL
I love my home in the tropical south,
oh yes...I truly do
but oh how I sometimes yearn
to share your home with you!
Where snowy banks, and laden limbs
welcome the whitest fresh fallen flakes!
The silence of it all,
Thanking the Lord for warm bundling up
and fires upon the hearth,
little stools pulled up close.
Embers glowing
while outside
it's still snowing.
But then I hear a seagull's call
and I think,
Well, is it really true...
we can't have it all?
-odmmb


------------------------------------------------------


"Be it Ever So Humble
There's No Place Like Home!"
Camping Out
Yeah,...and remember how in the middle of the night
that wild thing acting like a fourth of july
summer thunderstorm
came boiling in from nowhere
flashing and ripping and roaring?
The tent first started leaking like crazy
then soddenly collapsed.
It was freezing cold
in the middle of August.
We were pelted by hailstones.
High winds howled
causing tall trees
to do a dance
called "the twist!"
We shivered
and shook.
Our teeth clattered
and chattered.
Our only refuge was the car.
We all piled in,
cranked up
and went
HOME!
--odmmb


----------------------------------------------


Beneath the two trees standing
They built their cabin home
The fields around all cleared
the stumps gave way to loam
They planted peas and beans
and corn and cotton too
Melons, tomatoes and squash
sparkled in morning's dew,
Soon the land was hallowed
sweeter than honey-comb
For beneath the two trees standing
They built themselves a home.
-odmmb

----------------------------------------------------


Awakened from sleep by booming flashes
Must arise, put on robe, tie up sashes
Sit in kitchen at table and wait
For storm to pass by garden gate
This place a refuge, shelter,
Home,
Where we wait for the passing
of the midnight storm.
-odmmb

-------------------------------------------
Before darkness falls upon the land
stroll quietly around
walking on the grass, the sand, the pine needles, the
litttle sticks and invisible stones
past the little pond where the golden red
fishes play and pull bits of tasty bites from
the green around the edges..
In the twilight glow
Stop and stand still
so the sky, the blue
cannot go.
No.
Drink your fill,
for go it will.
It's twilight time.
-//\\-



-------------------------------------------------------------



I spent years looking for a home-
a place where I could settle in
to rainy days of quiet peace,
sunny breezy, foggy, sweet and cool
green and brown and shady..
days of digging, planting, picking,
raking, sowing, working in a little
garden all my own.

I came upon it with no effort of my own,
and not quite by chance...

For the love of my own dear loved ones built
this wonderful home for me
It has all I ever wanted
it's where I want to be.
-odmmb


-------------------------------------------------------


From cottage door
across the moor
run little child
for forests wild
leaping o'er cowslips
wet with dew
green groves wait
where birds just flew
lightdrops sparkle and spray
and croon
eternal childness,
sweet sphere of moon
live within one's being
among the bowers
fly away fly away
fly away home
-odmmb

------------------------------------------


Another world another time
Spoken of in tome
but while we're on the earth
this earth will be our home
little white cloud,
leaves of green
golden honey flowing
wake up every morning
see a flower growing
-odmmb

-------------------------------------------------

home at last, at last
green fields growing food for all
little children play
-odmmb


we took the oaken bucket
the one with band around
we dipped it into the spring
the one in forest found
we pulled it up a flowing
dripping waters sweet
we spilled it on our shirt
we spilled it on our feet
we took a long, long drink
and then we took some more
we then went home refreshed
to put it by the door
upon the water shelf
the one where dipper is
for mama, dad, and sister
and for old grandma Liz.
-odmmb


---------------------------------------


The house is empty
but it won't be long
I just bought it
got it for a song
though it's worth much more!
(actually it's priceless)
I knew I was home
when I saw the open door.
-odmmb

--------------------------------------

My home is in the deep
forest of the Island:
I walk daily to the edge
of the shore,
then sit for a while
with my bare feet in the
little waves which languidly lap in
and out around my ankles.
Tall trees above my head swing and sway
as warm wind passes;
I drink spring water from green leaves.
I weave willow branches to form
little baskets then rest beside a tree
while sipping cold, wild tea.
I lie down between clean,
rainwashed sheets woven by
my own hands
I've taken my body away
far away from the daily grind
filling, flooding my mind
with clean, clear waters of being
I inhabit this island,
this glorious island.
-odmmb

-----------------------------------------

we took the oaken bucket
the one with band around
we dipped it into the spring
the one in forest found
we pulled it up a flowing
dripping waters sweet
we spilled it on our shirt
we spilled it on our feet
we took a long, long drink
and then we took some more
we then went home refreshed
to put it by the door
upon the water shelf
the one where dipper is
for mama, papa and sister
and for old grandma Liz.
-odmmb


------------------------------------------

When I got to this one, I stopped and
if I could've I would've
jumped out of my chair.
And landed there.
Right in the middle of those tracks, and then
I'd step up on a rail, and with arms out
for balance, I'd walk them rails all the way
back to town--taking time out every few
minutes to stop and hop.
The crossties.
Stop.
Stand for long minutes. Drink it all in.
All of it.
The gold, the green
the smell of the grass
the rocks between
The sun, the air, the new mown hay
The grasshoppers hopping outta my way,
Then finally at last when I got to town
In the corner drug-store, I'd sit me down
I'd order a coke from the fountain with a cherry in it,
and a plain vanilla sundae with a
big, sweet, juicy, red strawberry on top. :-)
-sef-//\\-

another summer
is plum nelly gone today
how many is that?
they blend into one
all those summers gone by
frozen in winters
that melt into spring blossoms
plum nelly stardust
-//\\-


This world it aint my home
I'm just uh passin' thru.....
...
another year
jus went zooming on by...
how many is that?
they blend into one
all those years past
Burnt by the sun in summer
Delighted by color in fall
All those years are a blur
And we're just passing through, is all...
Time being frozen in winters
Then melting into another spring,
Like birds' migrating the seasons
We're juss passin' thru on a wing...
:-)....


(i like it too, Blu...:-)
reflecting emotions
as yet unfelt.
wait.
time will break the mirror.
reality will fall
broken to the ground
where reflections will be found
reflecting
a million shattered shards.
:-)
\
The Amazing Living Beings

Our house is a single field, clean, vast, and lustrous, clearly self-illuminated. When the spirit is vacant without conditions, when awareness is serene without cogitation, then buddhas and ancestors appear and disappear transforming the world. Amid living beings is the original place of nirvana. How amazing it is that all people have this but cannot polish it into bright clarity. In darkness unawakened, they make foolishness cover their wisdom.

One remembrance of illumination can break through and leap out of the dust of kalpas. Radiant and clear white, the single field cannot be diverted or altered. Solitary glory is deeply preserved, enduring throughout ancient and present times, as the merging of sameness and difference becomes the entire creation's mother.

This realm manifests the energy of the many thousands of beings, all appearances merely this field’s shadows. Truly embody this reality


a harder place to sit
than comfy cushions of favorite
chairs in home
a soul will wander far away when
it is won't to roam
looking for something, wondering what-
gazing across endless valleys
where mists and mountains meet in wispy blue
sitting on rocks and resting,
thinking through tangled up thoughts,
feelings and such
then finally seeing they don't amount to much
rocks disappear
-7



Mists and mountains
meet in wispy blue
Sitting on rocks resting,
thinking through.
Tangled up thoughts,
feelings and such;
Finally seeing they
don't amount to much.
lighting candles
for lunch
because the day is dark as night
and stormy
these tapers shed a little light
and warmth
low voices hum from the other room
where mr. driscol and his daughter
imogene
are discussing the price of cotton
from which
her starchy new gingham was made,
the one
she's wearing to the dance at the new
pavilion on the beach
next saturday night. But these candles
and the soft warm glow they are making
on a young girl's apple red cheeks
who dreams of "someday"
while she makes imogene's lunch
are priceless.
-s

closing eyes to see
quietness is real
knots come easily unraveled
things fall into their
appointed place
movements lose frenzy
time disappears
everything flows smoothly
-7

big two-story house
down at the end of the street
dark
hidden behind shrubs
no porch light
not even one single candle in the window
no utility pole stringing phones or
cables or power of any kind in there
eeriely quiet
no kid in their right mind
would go up that path, climb
those steps,
and clutching treat bag tight in hand
knock on that door.

but I dare you to.
...come on, I dare you. double-dog dare you!

All brains, but cool, digging everywhere for gold, hot Icicles, jets, kisses, l---, marmalade, n-- Oh Papa, quick! run shout to us vehemently! We x-rayed your zits.


How does it come to be that
with our inner eyes we see all
the things we see without
things for which we have no doubt or
never even stop to think if
t'would disappear if we blink but
when we do take pause
we start to look for a cause until
we come to realize we see
it all with inner eyes...
-s

swamplilies...
floatingly growing
a garden of soft green mossy coolness
inviting cheeks to nestle where
moisture softens into a pillow
truly an earth of edenic worth
growing upon it's trunk
a perfect place for turtles
to leap out a splashy kerplunk


move on, move on
stop and stay still
alligators roar
waking whippoorwill
sawgrasses sway
southern winds blow hot
peeling pungent roots
to add into the pot
stirring community stew
stoking low-heat flame
belly full and drowsy
contentment be thy name
-s


Fishes must have air to breathe
water is air, air is water

Walking along the trail beside the Pond one day
I saw something dead and stiff looking,
with flies and dirt and dried leaves and grass all over it.
As I drew near I could see it was a fish about a
foot and a half long. Lying there dead as a doornail on the trail.
It had evidently made a flying leap up from
it's water home to catch a bug or something...
or maybe it was just "jumping for joy..." I felt
sad and I don't know why I did it, but I picked up
the dead fish by the tail and tossed it back into the Pond.
and went sadly on my way.

Next day I came walking along the same trail again, just
as I did almost every day, and
Lo and Behold!
The fish was moving! He was still close to the bank, and
turned half over on his side, and still looking dead, but
His gills were moving. He was Breatheing!'

It took several days, but slowly, slowly the fish recovered.

Until finally he was as good as ever, swimming happily around in
his Pond and leaping for joy... (or bugs)
--7


quoting: adding weight to our own ideas, like saying, see here. so and so agrees withme! "
Or.


In November's last days
warm kitchen aroma's wafting
into noses all
over the house
warm days followed by cold ones
families drifting back into bosom
of hugs, smiles, laughter, joy
and thanksgiving.



Walking around in a bubble of being
easily jumping from one log to another
across cold water creek
getting to the other side, not
looking for anything in particular,
enjoying this beautiful day in the
middle of Blackwater River Forest.
Eating chinquapins and wild persimmons.


Pig trail beside pasture fence this
morning covered with
two inches of snow
on weed covered banks
spewes of frozen dewdrops make
sparkling castles
gleefully stomped by little
children's feet as they romp and play.
Windy days,
cold and warm and full of high hopes;
old stubbles in fields soft now and
ready to be plowed under.
Staying outside nowadays as
long as possible after
darkness fall.
-s


The moon lights up
nearby pine grove flashing
wind tossed pine needles.
The faraway sound of
clacking iron wheels
are on track;
Train whistles moan lonesome
midnight sounds into my pillow.
Forgetting the cold frost, I
rise, go to the open window and
breathe.
-s

She's wearing a dress made
of some synthetic looking stuff
clingy and sweaty- not comfortable
at all because
it can't breathe like cotton can
She's staring out across the sound
at something I can't see...
while I sit here behind her and
stare at her-
thinking she'd probably love to
"slip into something a little more comfortable..."
-s




What would it be like
to have no senses.
Suppose it could happen by accident
that a person lost
all sense of smell and taste,
all nerves that allowed feelings and sense of touch
were stone cold dead,
that sight was totally lost,
along with hearing!
What Then?
Suppose this person to be totally conscious
with no senses...
this would be a non-sentient being,
Even the most acute imagination cannot imagine
What it would be like.

but
Surely this person would still have dreams.
What would those dreams be like,
Would those dreams depend upon the
experiences the person had before the accident...
And suppose another person didn't lose all senses by
accident, but was born that way,
What would that be like...

it's beyond imagination.....]

or maybe not....

There was an admonishment
to one and to all!

"don't forget to save"
that which you do not want to lose
But what is meant to enlighten
so often serves only to confuse! :)

There comes a time in all good times
when Romans suffer a fall
and that which is not stored away
no one can recall

For MSN has traffic
flowing in and out the door
and that greedy little cybermonster
gobbles up more and more

We remember the past, the days of yore
and our old Rhyme and Reason
Oh well, never mind and forget about it and sigh
that for everything's another season....~ ~ ~

But when I finish writing this
although it's value is nil
I'll copy and save if just in case
It disappears out over the hill
-s

Are you sure you're you, now Jack the Master
Or did the mustard make a tasker run faster
Hamburgers, hotdogs, shakes and fries
He's telling her a big pack o' lies
She shakes her head and lies right back
faster than a cat can shake out a sack
now all the whole world's gone turvy topsy
Both Rooster and Hen's getting the dropsy
Make me a book, or make me a verse
Mama ran out to call a black hearse
Daddy stood tall starched like a stiff
till a skunk strolled by leaving a whiff
then the whole shebang jumped off a cliff
leaving me here holding this here fifth!
-s
when someone is blue
something new, something borrowed
something old would do,


I came here today looking
for something new from you
a picture, a poem or
maybe a little drop of dew
upon the roses of your pen
where you with beauty write
all the words so sweet and true
that drift me off to sleep at night

I'll forgive you
for eating the plums
darling
I know they
were sweet...
and cold.
The icebox is
empty now.
Goodbye.

...one time a few days before Christmas when I was only eleven or twelve and my sister was about nine or ten years old, there was a family lived up the road from grandma's house with two girls about our age. Those two girls were mean and tough and had tongues loose at both ends and dripping with what grandma called ugly words. They would steal anything that was not bolted down, and jump on you and beat you up for no reason at all. We were really scared of them. We had to be polite to them if they came around, but we didn't have to play with them, and one day as I said, a few days before Christmas, my sister and I took some tissue paper and found us a couple of dry cow pies (you know what that is!)
Well, anyway, we found some white tissue paper, and we found some red ribbons and we wrapped the cow pies into beautiful gift packages and when those two girls came down the road to the fence in front of our yard, we gave them the "gifts" and told them not to open them until they got home. Being as how they had no patience and even less honesty, since they'd promised faithfully not to open them yet, they weren't no piece back up the road before they opened them. It's a wonder they didn't come back and beat us up, and I'm sure they would've if we hadn't been in our own front yard with adult protection behind us! As it was they jumped up and down and yelled and cussed and threw the "gifts" with all their might back at us! We
were laughing like crazy and they were yelling like crazy and when our mom and grandma heard the commotion, and demanded we tell them what happened, we were in bad trouble for doing such a mean, nasty thing,...mama was saying we ought to be ashamed of ourselves, and grandma said she bet they'd never come back down that road again! She turned back around to the stove where she was stirring something, and I couldn't help but notice it was taking all she could do to keep from laughing out loud.
Well, we didn't really get punished much, but I am still to this day ashamed of treating those girls that way, and I wish I had not done it!



Looking brotherly
in the city.
Life has meaning.
May be found in
nothing so absurd
as a compound word.
The food and drink
of logical, inescapapable
definitive experiences.
Alley, doorway,
corner cafe'-
take subway out to see
a green growing tree,
evaluate arguments
make propositional bets
can't see sunsets
nor past theatre queue-
building blocks our view.
However
it is not a senseless
parade of abstractions
but a force
riding a horse.
We are exempted from the
consquences of course!
We've developed skill.
-/\


http://www.dailyzen.com/readings/reading37.asp




The Potter had no wheel to help her shape the pot.
She slammed down that pile of clay and
maybe like kneading bread, I don't know...
She shaped it.
Somehow.
Then she baked it in the hot summer sun.
It's not perfect.
But I love it the best.
-s


-s


working clay all day
ending up with pipe to sky
an ochre clay pipe


a guiding spirit
inspiring thee
to make a poem
or mayhaps three
we stand here loitering
mouth wide agape
biting frost nipping
from toes up to nape
we closely think
in silence drink
Thereon we muse
some wicked mind might turn
upon some dangerous plot
musing in mischief
to be punished is the lot
of absent minded contemplators
sitting in windows alone
watching life go by
from their regal, kingly throne
But oh how expressive their silence
how profusive their praise
when they find a gap, a hole in the hedge
through which a wild little muset passed aways
then naming them nine including Clio, Thalia,
Urania and Terpsichore,
a wild weeded goldenrod
grew up to nine feet more
musing mused the muse
recording a tome of yore
for thee: The Poet: The gray bearded bard.


Twilight Shadows
day embraces night, lovingly sweet
beside warm-watered lake retreat;
Willowy branches cling to leaves
dancing one last waltz with birds and bees
one mortal man walks alone and sees
that dreams are made of such as these
the wedding of night betrothed to day
launch empty boat and ride away
7


softly creep
as downy feathers
cuddle in sleep

There's a sentinel:

Watchman,
all seeing sentinel
guarding gates of being
Standing strong and all-seeing,
keeping selfness whole,
the mortal
falling asleep at the helm,
must be awakened
or else be overwhelmed:
Therefore:
O great mysterious
Watchman,
the light there within,
Awake! Awake these mortal men,
-s

eyes closed,
sound asleep and not seeing anything,
we see things!
we hear, taste, touch,
not being conscious
we are conscious
not being awake
we are awake.
not being
we are

Shadow sees a daymare
things turned around
Things once familiar
topsy-turvy, upside down

in a daymare:
"what is seen is seen"
then fading into a world of
what has been
nighttime comes creeping in

then comes the nightmare
with what to be
is "seeing what you do not see."
-s

just one be it'll?
but it sounds a lot like two
when rhymed with little

The purple people eater really does eat people
and birds eat fish and fish eat each other
and cats eat birds and rodents and things.
Lions and tigers eat all kinds of other animals.
cows only eat grasses and grains and such, but
they don't pay any attention if they're eating bugs and other
little creatures along with it
Well,...Mr. Purple People Eater....that's okay.
So you eat us, we eat them, they eat each other and us..
otherwise
We'd all starve. :)
-s


We dug and dug and dug
a hole so big and wide
that soon we'd made a mountain
of dirt up on one side
so soon we made an ocean
reflecting snowy peaks
where floating moonlight shines
upon the darkest deeps.

Seagulls and fishes
grant good wishes
Salty warm waters soothingly wash
travel worn feet healing
Old cuts closed up, sealing
This little island
This paradise
We live in
Here and Now.
Protected by yon barrier reef...

There's one down on a side street,
just off Main, most of it's windows broken
there's no telling what would be going on inside
there nowadays,
except that it is well guarded.
you can still hear whispers, whirring and whining
when you pass by,

but all the smell of 3-in-1 oil is gone.
-s


down the stairs and out the door
sidewalk waiting there
snow drifted up cold and sweet
icicles everywhere
placing feet carefully down
walk a way down south
around the block and back again
a little smile on a mouth.
-h/7s


me, myself and I
sweet little cookies all
rolled out on a board of flour
shaped in a big flat ball
tasty to the tongue,
oh what a delectable treat
shaped like a star, a bell,
or big fat gingerbread feet!
-h/7


From this bench beside the fountain
hearing the waterspray quietness
in midst of shoppers
unseen
beyond planted camellias, azaleas
little sidewalks running from
corner to corner
now and then someone will walk past
on clacking heels or whispering
moccasins and once
a man pushing a little white cart
with tinkling bell and ice cream
for sale
a bushy tail
switches back and forth from the lower
limbs of one of century old oaks
whose shady shadows flicker all over
it all.
-s/7r

An old hermit of the hills
whose tiny hut amongst the thick
growth of tall trees and
tangled brambles beside the narrow river
had never seen
a visitor...
had never heard a knock on
the door,
was walking along a trail upon which
no foot had ever fallen, save his own.
He was walking slowly along, head down,
practically in a trance,
when suddenly he
bumped into someone who was gazing
up into the trees trying to get a glimpse of
a bird singing a loud melodious song.
The old hermit was very surprised.
And so was I!
We embraced, my long lost friend and I.
You just never know who you will run into when
you go hiking alone in the woods!
-s

Forget the chair-
stand outside a while
be still
look upward to
visit the mountains
beneath the towering oak
listen to silence of whispering leaves
walk awhile
stroll along alone-
Return all better.
-s

Morning finds a moon loathe to leave
the lightening sky...
Children wakening from dreams
begin to play pretending schemes
a slumbering maiden fair
feels a breeze lift her hair
Impossible youths steal in
To admire the maiden then
Off they fly to daylight sky
To watch the Moon riding high...



drawings & paintings

-//\\-

I want to make a poem too
But I don't know how
If I could, I would
I would make it's edges glitter with gold
If I could
All over the inside it would
be creamy and smooth
with little touches of lemon
and it would sing with music
It would have a high moon
racing through silvery dark clouds
and it would roar like the ocean
on a windy night
It would burn hot and dry sometime like Cape San Blas in August
I would splash it full of diamonds
and pearls and little seeds of grass
and meadow larks. and mocking birds
amd dusty dirt roads. and berries
It would be good if I could
make a poem
If I could, I would.
-s


ah... and aha the table set in perfect array
but for
(one little word included in parentheses:)
a fly in the ointment
a word a silly word most would
think objection to be silly,
but some shudder.


not raised on dragons
or faires or little green elves
raised on beans and peas and
dried up peanuts
and cane syrup on the shelves
dragons and knights and kings wielding swords
were not in the picture at all
did hear tales of things called "boogers
wampus cats, and painters" which is what
we called black panthers screaming like women
but never did i ever see or hear one! Ever.
-s

Ole lady tater eater
(Vincent's modern day makeover
In her olden-day bonnet and
sunglasses with blue rims)
Fell in love with a fern field
thus: the takeover!
"I stake my claim," said she,
holding out her arms,
"They're mine! All mine!"
Then of a sudden curling
into a fading frond
she'll disappear altogether
By Vincent's magic wand
-//\\-



In the hours alone
'tween midnight and dawn
a blanket of hush softly steal
into moonlit garden quietly
where old gray owl sits nightly
upon the third limb up on
the old oak tree, his throne...
That ancient genius, a sight so rare
Oh! we must lose sleep to see him there!
-h/7s

walking in the rain,
a real downpour
in the summertime
yes, walking along a
dirt road in the country
in the rain
that is good

In my rest of yesternight
I dreamt of evolving theme
when morning came I wondered
if it truly was a dream or
did I have another sight
some greater vision to wake aright
the things that oft went all askew
I do not know but if I knew
I'd know whether 'tis or 'tis not true
that on the scale of all eterne
the balance swings to equal earne.
h/7s


It's good to watch the seasons change.
Each one has it's own specialness,
It's own flavors and smells and sights
They all have a different and wonderful
feel to them...and
Each one is The Very Best one!
-h/7s


He lit the torch and left it blazing
then stood aloof. waiting.
under yon olive trees strangely gnarled
he lay there in silence all along
no sorrows there of dust
nor tears distill'd by moans
holding close underground
beneath that long since sunken mound
In yon little churchyard hidden away
He loosed the whistle, the siren call
out o'er the land where fairies fall
upon dewy grasses
their magical webs enthrall
as a signal to modern day magical rite
In his dear employment we took to be long since
gone
he'd left it here, the torch!
It was here all along.
A precious bit here and another there
running on and on and on upon a course
uninterrupted.|
Behold! A grave?
O no!
It's a lantern in the Land!
-s

In a rest of yesternight
a dreamer dreamt of evolving theme
when morning came a wonder
if it truly was a dream
or was it one or another sight
some greater vision to wake aright
the things that oft went all askew
we do not know but if we knew
we'd know whether 'tis or 'tis not true
that on the scale of all eterne
the balance swings to equal earne.
-//\\-

Nature grows: worldly domain
extended outward again
whose twigs like the willow
skillfully bent
uprooted daily and onward sent
When to thy bed thou dost go
What worldly feelings thou dost know
Leave behind with pitcher and ring
only thyself thou must bring.
-s


Where we wait for the passing
of the midnight storm.
-//\\-


gnarly trees of ancient mold
blossoming forthe with fruits of gold
sweet juices flow, nectar sweet
falling on ground beside thy feet
Old maids call and cry alone
fling selves down all flat and prone
to sleep a nap a while away
a sight so rare! O lack-a-day!
-shsp


Nay, be patient
keep to thy womb in silence
trouble thyself not
stand fast and thy tongue can speak
past the knotted rope of thy pain-filled throat
louder then than sign or token
go , wash thy hands
take silent walks, be not as broken
as one past all repair,
nor any word spoken
Nay, thou wast not born to be down
nor was thy face fashioned to wear a frown
Nay!
Up! Up!
Away!

_______________________


No, be patient
keep to your self in silence
don't trouble yourself
stand fast so your tongue can speak
past the knotted rope of your pain-filled throat
louder then than sign or token
go. wash your face and hands
take silent walks, be not as broken
as one past all repair,
nor past any word spoken
No. you were not born to be down
nor was your face fashioned to wear a frown
So.
Go.
Up!
Up!
Away!

__________________________


Knot the cord, and
fly away fast!
If I do slumber, wake me
from that eternal sleep,
O gentle one,
For on this day those stern ungentle hands
laid my body bare
lopp'd and hew'd
and chewed and gnawed.
Beneath circling shadows
I sought to sleep in peace.
Again so great a
bubbling fountain
stirr'd with wind's
rise and fall between
honey tree and locust ,
only to encounter a cloud
of issuing sprouts blushing.
Shall I speak?
Say I am burnt to cinders?
My pretty fingers on
lily-white hands tremble
like aspen leaves.
I hear you play upon your lute,
it's silken strings delight
me to kiss your honey sweet face
which touched for life's
heavenly sweet tongue
into harmony
at thy poet's feet.
Come, let us go!
One hour's storm of tears draw back
sparkling bright beads of fragrant meads:
Upon thy tongue doth melt away
all pain and sorrow of yesterday.
-shsp

Or:
Knot the cord and
fly away fast!
Do not slumber, but wake
from that eternal sleep,
O gentle one,
for on this day those stern ungentle hands
hast laid thy body bare
lopp'd and hew'd
and chewed and gnawed.
Beneath circling shadows,
you sought to sleep in peace
as again so great a
bubbling fountain
stirr'd with wind's
rise and fall between
honey tree and locust ,
only to encounter a cloud
of issuing sprouts blushing.
Wouldst thy soul to speak? Say
thou art burnt to cinders?
Nay! Thy nimble fingers
tremble like aspen leaves as
you play upon your lute,
it's silken strings delight,
moving tears to kiss your
honey sweet face touched by
life's sweet harmony at thy poet's feet.
Come,now you must go!
One hour's storm of tears draw back
sparkling bright beads of fragrant meads
and melt away all pain and sorrow of yesterday.
-s

Command these elements to silence!
This acre of ground
rise and fall o'er hill and dale:
A bubbling fountain behind a swale,
tiny mountains there-
this outdoor room of rarified air,
blushing coxcomb over there-
in front of goldenrod wild in patches;
giving a glimpse of old ragged thatches.
Old hands tremble encountering this
hallowed place, breathing in it's sweetness
thinking..ah 'tis true
the only thing I shall miss when I'm gone
dear old outdoor room...
is you!
--s

blessing all humanity
moving fingers
have writ and yet will linger
like leaves upon a lute
whose silken strings delight
to gently open up eyes in the night
touching life with harmony's sweet tongue
upon whose lips a word will tell
if then asleep at poet's feet he fell
let us go but for one hour's chance
to that sweet hut where perchance
fragrant meads might make a tear
draw back curtains from glass so clear
from moment to moment,
Being Here.
-s
-shsp




i searched and searched
and searched to see
to see where it could be
I looked and looked and looked
looking high and low
Where oh where can it be?
I wanted so much to know
I traveled the earth all over
up one side and down another
asking everyone I met
even the old monk's brother
I sailed the ocean blue
scaled the mountains high
all o'er the forests I flew
and combed the spacious sky
Then one day perchance
While pushing back my hair
my heart began to dance
I thought i saw it there
But No!
What i could see so plain
was only my little brain
So off I went again
looking everywhere,
no luck!
i do declare!
It must be made of air
Unless...as strange and odd
as this might surely be
I'm beginning now to wonder
If it is herein me!
:) -s

I cannot help but follow my nature...
can a weeping willow be a pine?
Can a river be an Ocean?
No, no more than a spider web can be a twine_
My nature is mine.
From this honeysuckle here all over the place
I wander freely too, farther and farther and farther
soaring, soaring inward , upward , outward, into southern skies
into my Self.
I! the weeping willow, the pine,
the river the ocean, the web the twine!
-s/b

all alone this weekend
hiking for miles...
and miles...
far away from any city noise
deeper and deeper into the forest green
deeper into that forest than I have ever been
sitting cross-legged on the ground
in front of my fire, I found
green sticks for a stove
aluminum pot for a bowl
heating soup
thinking
not thinking.
feeling
not feeling
stirring hot food
in a bowl on my stove...
solitude...
rest,relaxation,restoration
s/7b


A leaf-carpeted road
wending it's way through woods
curving around tall pines
opening out to sky and cold water creek
banked by many-colored clays
slippery
though no rain has fallen.
Treetops sigh
but not from wind,-
green mosses cool and sweet
beneath unclad, thirsty feet.
A sigh, a blessing standing there
breatheing in a sight so rare..
-s


Posted At ZenNovice@groups.msn.com
and:RhymeandReasonArtGallery@groups.msn.com
from March 18 2003 until
===================================================

Ms.Stellar's stoney neighbor
from outer space
Told Ms. Stellar
Right to her face
That she was a disgrace
To the whole human race
Ms. Stellar replied, "Never,
No never did I think
This is what would happen
with one Soursun drink
Never thought I'd look
as lovely as this
but I'm all puckered up
with no one to kiss!"



:-)....Last Night Julia,
In my sleep I was
dreaming...YadaYadaYada
Dreaming of September's
Foggy mornings and how the
woods across the road are blue
With kids waiting for the bus down
at the corner to take them to
School going YadaYadaYada
until late in the evening when the
moon comes up again and it
gets cold and they just won't go
to sleep during sleepovers and
going YadaYadaYada into the
wee hours of the morning!
:-) ____and there I was
Last Night
dreaming up plans for putting
more of Julia's poems on my own
Special Yada Yada Yada page!
hahahahaa.... :-)


Last night
A bell rang a clang a clash, a hollow iron ring
Loudly disturbing the night like a dingalingling
Causing the whole town to stir up awake
To see what was happening now with old Jake
For everyone knew, just knew it'd be him
But no! It was not! It was old Jim!
With a wankawacka wanka and trotta hot trot
He mustered up all the courage he carried in his pot
His cat perched precariously on the top of his head
dragging half the sheets from his now deserted bed
He wiggled and he waggled as he ran down the street
A bouncing and a jouncing as his knees met his feet.
Everybody hollered and laughed with delight
As they watched old Jim run a race last night
They gave him a party with a lotta lackaloo
Rolled him back home when the party was through
So what with the bells and and the laughter and such
Nobody in town slept very much
Last
Night.



The door was open, so she walked right in,
with soft cat feet and a cheshire grin;
But lo and behold on the other side,
was a dirty rat! Well she nearly died!
What a scramble it was--nearly broke her neck,
couldn't get back out, but oh what the heck!
So settling down with needles and yarn
she knitted a Not-hole in the side of the barn,
then spent a long lifetime looking out
waiting for something to come about;
Some catastrophic thing must surely occur
some heavenly happenstance would happen to her.
But alas, alack! It was never to be
She grew old and ugly, could scarcely see.
Then early one morning like happened before,
the latch fell open, so she walked out the door.
-//\\-


the artist goes to the back room, and i
sit looking out the window noticing how
the sun sprarkles on the little pond in the
distance when a trout leaps for a
dragonfly, then
hearing a shuffling sound I look back into
the room again immediately forgetting
the show that other artist out there
was painting right before my very eyes, as
i looked__becoming once again
absorbed__ in these pieces this artist
brought out from where they were hidden..
:-)
-//\\-


You've forgotten that village
lost in the rows and rows of swamp in
a pine-wooded territory where no
scarecrows ever stand in orchards:
The crops aren't worth it,
and the roads are also just
ditches and brushwood surface.
All these Cypress Trees are dead, I
take it, and their stumps too, for
sure, and if not, they're
down in the cellar there
being made into something:
the headboard of our bed, say
or a wicket gate,
or some kind of shed.
In winter we're chopping wood,
and turnip is all we live on.
A star blinks from all the smoke in
the frosty heaven,
and no bride in chintz at the window,
but the dust's gray craft, plus the
emptiness where once we loved.
-//\\-odmmb

====================


They have a big, black iron pot
simmering on a small fire
in the middle of the eating area.
Everyone
Contributes bits and pieces of
all kinds of good things to eat
gathered from the surrounding
forest,
from their beloved
gardens,
and from the flowing
river.
Everyone
From the oldest to the youngest
tends that pot.
They keep the little fire going
all day long, then banked up with
hot ashes at night, so that it is
Always hot.
from time to time they
add water from the spring to
the ingredients in the pot,
slowly so that it won't stop
simmering.
Everyone
has their own carved-out wooden
bowl
All lined up each in it's own
place.
On a ledge near the pot.
When they are hungry,
they eat.

-//\\-odmmb

==================================

things change
like opening
of buds into blooms
blooms and leaves
into falling off the trees
into buds and blooms
and green things growing
spring springing into
summer
sun heating up skyhigh
sweat falling from brow
into fresh dug earth
dropping seeds___
one for the blackbird
one for the crow
one for the cutworm and
one to grow!" :-)
-//\\-odmmb

=====================================================

Posted At ZenNovice@groups.msn.com
and:RhymeandReasonArtGallery@groups.msn.com
from March 18 2003 until
===================================================

Ms.Stellar's stoney neighbor
from outer space
Told Ms. Stellar
Right to her face
That she was a disgrace
To the whole human race
Ms. Stellar replied, "Never,
No never did I think
This is what would happen
with one Soursun drink
Never thought I'd look
as lovely as this
but I'm all puckered up
with no one to kiss!"



:-)....Last Night Julia,
In my sleep I was
dreaming...YadaYadaYada
Dreaming of September's
Foggy mornings and how the
woods across the road are blue
With kids waiting for the bus down
at the corner to take them to
School going YadaYadaYada
until late in the evening when the
moon comes up again and it
gets cold and they just won't go
to sleep during sleepovers and
going YadaYadaYada into the
wee hours of the morning!
:-) ____and there I was
Last Night
dreaming up plans for putting
more of Julia's poems on my own
Special Yada Yada Yada page!
hahahahaa.... :-)


Last night
A bell rang a clang a clash, a hollow iron ring
Loudly disturbing the night like a dingalingling
Causing the whole town to stir up awake
To see what was happening now with old Jake
For everyone knew, just knew it'd be him
But no! It was not! It was old Jim!
With a wankawacka wanka and trotta hot trot
He mustered up all the courage he carried in his pot
His cat perched precariously on the top of his head
dragging half the sheets from his now deserted bed
He wiggled and he waggled as he ran down the street
A bouncing and a jouncing as his knees met his feet.
Everybody hollered and laughed with delight
As they watched old Jim run a race last night
They gave him a party with a lotta lackaloo
Rolled him back home when the party was through
So what with the bells and and the laughter and such
Nobody in town slept very much
Last
Night.



The door was open, so she walked right in,
with soft cat feet and a cheshire grin;
But lo and behold on the other side,
was a dirty rat! Well she nearly died!
What a scramble it was--nearly broke her neck,
couldn't get back out, but oh what the heck!
So settling down with needles and yarn
she knitted a Not-hole in the side of the barn,
then spent a long lifetime looking out
waiting for something to come about;
Some catastrophic thing must surely occur
some heavenly happenstance would happen to her.
But alas, alack! It was never to be
She grew old and ugly, could scarcely see.
Then early one morning like happened before,
the latch fell open, so she walked out the door.
-//\\-


the artist goes to the back room, and i
sit looking out the window noticing how
the sun sprarkles on the little pond in the
distance when a trout leaps for a
dragonfly, then
hearing a shuffling sound I look back into
the room again immediately forgetting
the show that other artist out there
was painting right before my very eyes, as
i looked__becoming once again
absorbed__ in these pieces this artist
brought out from where they were hidden..
:-)
-//\\-


You've forgotten that village
lost in the rows and rows of swamp in
a pine-wooded territory where no
scarecrows ever stand in orchards:
The crops aren't worth it,
and the roads are also just
ditches and brushwood surface.
All these Cypress Trees are dead, I
take it, and their stumps too, for
sure, and if not, they're
down in the cellar there
being made into something:
the headboard of our bed, say
or a wicket gate,
or some kind of shed.
In winter we're chopping wood,
and turnip is all we live on.
A star blinks from all the smoke in
the frosty heaven,
and no bride in chintz at the window,
but the dust's gray craft, plus the
emptiness where once we loved.
-//\\-odmmb

====================


They have a big, black iron pot
simmering on a small fire
in the middle of the eating area.
Everyone
Contributes bits and pieces of
all kinds of good things to eat
gathered from the surrounding
forest,
from their beloved
gardens,
and from the flowing
river.
Everyone
From the oldest to the youngest
tends that pot.
They keep the little fire going
all day long, then banked up with
hot ashes at night, so that it is
Always hot.
from time to time they
add water from the spring to
the ingredients in the pot,
slowly so that it won't stop
simmering.
Everyone
has their own carved-out wooden
bowl
All lined up each in it's own
place.
On a ledge near the pot.
When they are hungry,
they eat.

-//\\-odmmb

==================================
Today
things change
like opening
of buds into blooms
blooms and leaves
into falling off the trees
into buds and blooms
and green things growing
spring springing into
summer
sun heating up skyhigh
sweat falling from brow
into fresh dug earth
dropping seeds___
one for the blackbird
one for the crow
one for the cutworm and
one to grow!" :-)
-//\\-odmmb

=====================================================



As for me, I love my little hut
here beside the trail
among the honeysuckle vines and
tall thick trees.
Here in the swamp beside the river
I am completely free,
with my friends the Water Hyacinth
and the blue skies above,
nothing to do but putter and fish,
and whittle and lay around.
There are roads and highways out there
but they can't come in here to my world:
Since I'm a no-brain,
who will ask me to think?
"...I sit on my doorstep at night alone
while the orange moon climbs up above the trees..."
-//\\-odmmb


I cannot name you
but you are always here
I speak to you in thought
I love you in heart
I sense your presence
I am aware of you always
Yet I know not how to describe you


Waterdrop on taro leaf
Out to river
Dark waters swiftly swirl and flow
Into forest

Drinking waters of cold mountain stream,
Hands make a cup to dip it up.
What can two hands hold?
Only enough for a while.
Must continually dip and drink...


An owl sits on a branch pondering,
eyes open wide;
bright moons weave in and out
between clouds above.
Silent feet trace myriad pathways
on the forest floor below.
Look to the source, the rock,
the space between.


...
Woke up in one place,
on a cloud
learning space flight like
swimming with waterwings in
a backyard pool.
Flying invisible lines on a sea of
emptiness.
...


If it don't have someone else's name
that means it's mine...
...

Words at first a puzzle
Then as clear as the sky
For a time not a cloud in sight
Some nights we do not sleep
as usual,
But stay fully awake until dawn.

...
not a cloud in sight
the earlybird meditates by the pool
world news goes unheard for a time
green grass, leaf beds rocky ledges,



I am here it is now...
The night owl meditates by the spring.
Here even the children know the way.
World news is forgotten.
People sleep all over the place,
on the grass, on leaf beds, under ledges,
in sleeping bags, clean and cool as a cucumber.
This whole canyon is steeped in wild honeysuckle perfume;
The very stones themselves shine under the brightest moon.
I don't want to leave this place, but as soon as the
dawn breaks pink over the tallest mountains,
I must say goodbye. I'll be back when all these
green leaves turn to a golden glow of light.

...

On the long trail of brown grass
after a light snowfall
I followed the footprints you
made ahead of me.
When I came to your unlocked door, I sat
on the steps for a while, enjoying the
special quiet solitude of silence which is
unique to snow covered landscapes.
Later, when I came to the source of your
little creek flowing, I circled around facing the
stream and all the snowladen pines.
I stood deeply inside a sense of something
For which I cannot find words.

...

Waking me up to spring
Sun shines in through
my window earlier than usual.
Frost has melted into a
gentle, warm breeze.
Doors and windows,
long sealed up tight, open wide
Feet long trapped in shoes,
now walk free.


This is it.
Nowhere else, nothing else,
No other time;
Only this.
Leaves stir to the gentle breeze,
Warm sunshine brings withered
trees whose bark is dark and
crumbly back to blossom.
I tried to read a history of Zen,
But suddenly shadows and mists of
fog swallowed the pages.

...

The rising sun climbs up
from the night outside my window;
Everything is quiet, clean and clear.
The goings-on of world affairs don't exist here;
Nothing to smell but fresh morning air as
my sleeping clothes fold away into the night.
Unable to lie still any longer I rise and begin to breathe my way into a new day.
Suddenly, across the floor a glowing sunbeam appears.
...

The reddening low sun
Flashes in between the trees
River of mind meanders far away
from the task at hand.
Who, when working in such times
will keep attention focused upon
tilling the upturned earth?
There is only spring sap rising in
the trunk of every tree.
...

The leafy path up to this hut
under the trees
is quiet, peaceful,
Far away from bustle;
An open door faces
southern sunshine.
After sundown, the air grows
fresh and cool,
But a light rain starts;
All night long it drips from
the eaves;
Morning finds the green pond
full of singing frogs.
Leaves fall and float
where no green lily pads grow
Anyone could be at ease
Wearing a loose robe
Simple, clean, ordinary,
They could be themselves
No longer needing to
practice calming of the heart.

...

Cloudy morning, layer on layer,
from white to indigo blue;
Shady path lingering in last night's dark,
Not a sign of anyone anywhere to be seen.
Little creek under bridge a clear flow;
No place, no where, could be any
more so beautiful than this;
Birds sing in tune with my own heart.

...

All over the city warm breeze, soft sunlight
Even the oldest trees under the
dark eaves of a building are blossoming
I tried to find a place to sit but on
this glorious morning the path led to
a thousand places.

...

Down to the edge of the river
to watch the whirlpools go
round and round
or back up to the clearwater spring
to sit in the shade.
Not doing any one thing in particular;
Just walking around
Two feet off the ground,
with my head in the clouds.

...

All of a sudden I forgot everything I ever knew.
It's useless to try to force
myself,
For, no matter which way I go,
I'm still on the Way.

...

They don't meander on mountains
Nor stay at home alone
The wide, wide world belongs to them
Time and tide flows on and on
The world's let loose, flows free
In a their awakened eyes
Deep fogs lift,
Mountains, rivers, cities and lands
Appear. Bright and clear.

...

Day and night the running stream
Flows thinking through a mind
Skies of blue and black
Falling stars, baby stars
Wild tigers in borneo
Long brown fish looking like leaves.
Next to the house there's a
Wide open field freshly plowed
Ready for spring planting.

...



...

Vast varieties of opposites
Settled as one by sitting,
With no doors or windows
In wide open stillness,
doing nothing at all,
Just being here now
Whatever here may be
From many, many blossoms
We wander freely,
Making cloudland canyon a
A place of meditation.

...

Magnificent Mind
Like Great Smoky Mountain
Solid, forever something else
Illustrating Oceans and vast
Empty space,
It's myriads of reflections reflect
Endless perspectives.

...

Magnificent Mind
Moving eternally,
Forever changing,
Illustrating itself
Froming formless forms
Making myriads of reflections in
Endless perspectives.

...............

Swaddled in soft cotton
A Zen body sitting.
Surrounded by objects
Obviously plain and clear, and yet
Nothing is there.
It's beyond description.
To know the empty mind,
One's own mind must be empty.

...

Emptiness, nothingness.
Just other names for
Fullness, everythingness.
Names for the fact that
nothing is permanent.
Nothing stays the same for
two moments in a row,
yet everything exists as is,
from always to always.

...


Yesterday night in the
darkness of a sleep, no
thought in mind,
counting breaths,
eyes closed.
Suddenly it is morning.
Eyes open to see.

...

There are Zen students who are in chains
When they go to a teacher,
And the teacher adds another chain.
The students are delighted,
Unable to discern one thing from another.
This is called a guest looking at a guest.
- Linji (d. 867)

...

At the stream’s source,
The path leads on to gray cliffs.
Everywhere, among blossoming apricot trees, dwell immortals.
A hermit says,
“More can be found on
West Peak,
and two or three have their
home in the clouds.”
- Chang chi (776-829)
(from dailyzen.com, 2.23.2004)

...

We have all seen people who are
not chained by such things as
falsity, opinion, and habit of
appearances.
They are as clear as spring water.
Pure and uncontrived,
Calm and uninhibited.
They are free.

...

She merely sets her sail
But if all her efforts fail
and she gets
washed overboard
into the
deep blue sea
she goes for a swim

You are the point from which
all that exists forms, reforms,
lives, dies, comes, goes,
moves, stops, is whatever is...

From where you are outward
in every direction the universe
expands eternally
Everything there is,
is you;
How could there be any other?


White clouds vanished away
Now the blue grows deeper
The trees become sharp and clear
Like mountains against the sky

``````````````````````````````

Far into the night
A bright candle burning
Those who are awake
To their own rest turning
When the candle goes out
and all is quiet
Sweet dreams drift in
through the velvety night,
Into the silence
With the whole world
sleeping
Renewal and rest
deeply deepening.



Winter could be spent
listening to whisper of snowflakes
falling into the silence of
evergreens' waiting arms.
Following slushy wet footprints
through deep, white snowfalls;
Scribbling lines on pages of birchbark
making up things like this
about living in the mountains,
while sipping sassafras tea
steaming hot and sweetened with
wild honey..
aye, but far from being an escape
from the ordinary world, this
solitudinous mountain life
is an ordinary world....

Take a little time
Stop to think a thought or two
Look before you leap




Old masters still young
Plums still blossoming in spring
Just like they did then
-sef
Dogen's one old sage
Still speaking clearly today
Thanks to written word
:-)
Banana Tree leaves
Stay green and growing all year
In a warm climate
-sef



Sashes to ashes
Bows hang limp and loose
Knot a knot climb a vine,
Read mother goose.
Wooden bowls full of flour,
Milk and rendered lard,
Boys and girls running wild
All over a sandy yard
Rain and shine,
blow ye winds blow
Clothes on the line a drying
Hang 'em up, hang 'em up
Bacon's in the pan a frying.
Daddy come climbing up home
Up the last rise of the hill
Sun's done gone, moon's on the rise
Curtain's closed up on the window sill.





Indeed!
Buzzards on roost,
every fowl tyrant on wing
crowing at daybreak
with stolen goods packed away!
But no! None shall break thee!
The sun ariseth to another good-morrow
From each dripping pen a word doth borrow:
Lo, my gentle lark, take your rest
upon the rosy morning's golden breast;
Thou art the patron of all light,
with beauteous influence making earth bright.
Hark! The hounds still bay to the horn
Whilst in thy wolf-strong heart
another world is being born!

Where there is beauty, there is ugliness.
When something is right, something else is wrong.
Knowledge and ignorance depend on each other.
It has been like this since the beginning.
How could it be otherwise now?
Wanting to chuck out one and hold onto the
other makes for a ridiculous comedy.
You must still deal with everything ever-changing,
even when you say it’s wonderful.
- Ryokan (1758-1831)


Antiquity forms
Lady in lotus posture
From nose of Satyr



"not knowing" is just "I don't know,
I'm going to go see.
I'm just going to set out and trust what occurs."

http://www.intrex.net/chzg/hartman4.htm

my daily stuff
sef-//\\-odmmb



I stand at the kitchen sink
looking out the
Southern window.
There's the dogwood tree,
standing in a flood of morning sun,
glowing in autumn colors just like
the ones up North.
Surrounded by green,
it's colors red and yellow
and every other color too,
as beautiful as any one tree
Up North,
where the whole countryside is
breathtakingly blazing in bright yellows reds,
and every other color too.
I look for a long time at this one tree,
Marveling at each and every leaf and I think,
"I can look at only one tree at a time."

Last night our dreamweavers wove
A lovely dream to be:
Today we wear it around enwrapt
For all the world to see. :-)
-sef


left by wayside in ashes
where fate flings and dashes...



One by one they fall by the wayside,
their poor old bodies torn,
wracked in ruin; worn.
Do not weep,
for they'll just lie there and sleep
in peace upon the heap.


When he thinks of her loveliness
He suffers the suffering of
that lonely sea-girt island,
far away from all humanity.
It is an island covered with
a forest of fir trees,
in the very middle of nowhere,
where the beautiful woman lives.
She looks after the bottom-land garden
and carries the great oaken buckets
that keep heaven and earth's blossoms
sweetly growing in tender perfumes;
She bathes beneath cascading waters
tumbling from high cliffs above;
She makes him forget his home,
so that he is faint and frail with
longing and can think of nothing
but how he may once more see
the smoke of her chimney,
But alas, she is neither here nor there,
And his poor heart bleeds.




Steaming green jungles
Appear on dry desert sand
Shimmering mirage
Might give a weary traveler
Enough hope to travel on


This is my home. The Sea.
I can swim to it's depths or fly
In one swoop
out and up to the sky
Or rest
gently rocking to and fro
in soft seafoam cradles.



When I think of Robert Frost
Baskets of Apples appear
in mind
Then roads in the woods
Beckon
But I can't decide
Which of the roads to take.
Should I smoothly go gliding
this well-worn one
Or take a giant leap along that?


Well, me and Fictional Fred,
we had another date last night
We got on down to the grist mill
Not to grind corn, now mind you
But to sit and spoon a while on that big old rock
that juts out over
the tumbling waters of Nantahala Creek.
On a night like last night that old
Rocks a mighty romantic place. What with it
being covered over thickly with the softest green
moss ever seen and being sheltered by
one of the biggest, thickest old Spruce Pines in this
whole county. Anyway Fred and me we was having the
best old time you ever saw, laughing and talking our way
down to that old rock. Me all dressed up in my
purty white dress, the one with the crispy swishy skirt to it,
And Fred all manly you know about taking me down there.
Us both looking forward with great expectations.
Well now don't take this to heart please but the terrible truth
about that romantic old moss covered rock's no lark:
I set myself daintily down in the moonlit dark
smack dab onto a big puddle of somebody's
sourlywetstinkingpuke!
EeeeuuUuuuu!!!!
Goodbye Romance.
... (ain't love grand?)


Although it was much pleasure playing
I don't like what I did
I'd like to delete it but there it is so i'll
just let it be a lesson to me
to try to remember well and not forget
It's a long way to Tipperary and i ain't there yet

....................................
There you were.
Sitting on top of the world.
You watched falcons dip, dive and soar;
You were so high that
If you wanted to see a cloud,
You couldn't look up,
you had to look down!
Because you were high, high, high!
Way up there on top of the world
In a place you've been many times before
Sitting on top of the world!.

.......................
There you are:
Completely finished,
Yet only begun.
....................................
I am this that I am_
Like a little lotus flower,
All in all in one_
Completely done,
Yet only begun...

_______________________

From Not a Squarehead

A computer squarehead who studies
computer science ate a potato, then
painted a desktop background behind
his MY COMPUTER icon and installed
the picture in his background.
He clicked like crazy, deleting all the
rounded off corners when he saw his
life pop-up looking all squareheaded and
measured off neatly into little green windows.
His every chip was corrupted and connected
to his hacked out brain which was
registered with Dr. Puddles' name in it.
Squaring off squarely was the only way he could
navigate and explore all the circles, ess-curves and
wavy waves at the same time.
He got all bumfuzzled and lost when
he tried to blow up a bunch of soap bubbles and the
old popping up a window kept popping up saying the
program was not responding, so he shut down,
restarted his windows and logged into a shadowy place
where since time immemorial he's never tried to log out again.
The shadow-of-his-shadow became his only server from
that day forward.
No need to search google for the squarehead, nor to
roam scandinavian forests, nor german beerhalls, cause
he's inextricably linked link by link to his homepage and all
his software, scanning his life, being infected by one virus after
another, turning greener and greener as the moss grows
furrier and furrier on the square roots of his old
SquareHead!

HAHHAAHAAAAAhahahahahahahah


The whole world is a stage
waiting for you to step on
"Break a leg" dear players
recite your lines, dance your dance,
sing your song!
A star will appear upon your door
bright neon lights will glow
Strut your stuff, boys and girls
let your talent show!
Just one at a time take center stage
to do your own solo
As the drama of life plays itself out
around and around we go!


And
________________________________________


I looked up and saw you
when you came in through the door
my heart turned into something
like nothing ever known before
My whole body melted.
A burning fire of desire
swept over the whole room.
Every little movement suddenly became
an old silent film in slow motion,
a tragedy dramatized.
Deafening silence followed a
shattering sonic boom.
But when you spoke I turned away
as if I hadn't heard a word.
Time stood still.
It became absurd.
I could not speak.
My tongue was paralyzed..
My knees turned to jelly.
My fingers turned to thumbs.
My eyes became black caverns.
Yes, my whole life...
turned...
Around and away from you.
What else could you do?
You turned away too.
Now you're gone.
Forever.
What devilish demon struck me
thus and so
depriving me of my life and forcing me to go
Throughout all eternity empty and forlorn,
a ghost ship floating with
sails all tattered and torn, no life aboard,
tall mast stark and bare,
no other ship in the night
ever passing there...
___...The frail and thin old man shook his head trying to remember something. He held up one shaky old hand for a moment then let it fall down beside him. The cool silence was broken for a moment by a faint bubbling sound. Then all was quiet again and nothing moved for ten minutes. Suddenly the wind picked up and the old houseboat began gently rocking to and fro...to and fro...to and fro....a seagull looked down and screeched as it flew low over the deck then out over the salty waters of the bayou looking for alewives.
-dale