Far-Eye (written on 1/11/14 in Noble Silence while fasting)
Take out your eyes, let them come to me.
Roll over me, see me completely.
They journey, traversing my body,
yet seeing deeper.
When they return, put them in the pockets at your hip.
Allow them to sleep and integrate all they now know.
Be patient with them.
Only when they have rested, return them to your eye sockets.
How do you see me now?
Random journal entry, 12/29/13
Coyotes cackle and howl at the morning.
Awaken, sun! Warm our coats!
Trickster spirits gather to laugh at stand-up comedy; the Cosmic Joke.
Maya, Great Mystery, Great Illusion.
They communicate with action.
What a sacred teaching.
More spilled ink
In the end we learn
there is no yours or mine,
just a mangled heap of footsteps all tied in a knot
and the wind whispers illusions ~
no, wait, that’s the mind ~
let us shed the veil that confines,
illuminate the sublime,
point our instinct towards the edge,
cracking the cones of the hourglass we have built to keep our souls,
and simply allow the manifold to echo into the cores of our be-ing,
never fleeing from the Truth…
Seeking the roots of our masks
and pulling them loose.
This is it, all that’s left.
Boy, it feels empty out here.
The void cradles me
and when I awake from my slumbers,
dark matter is tangled in my hair,
my breath smells like nebulas,
and starseeds crumble from my eyes.
A poem. 2/15/14
The coil of your spine unravels
at the sight of an ant mound,
and crawls inside the dry, sandy womb
to rest, finally, exhaling tension
stored dormant in your cartilage for decades.
The ants will love you there,
beneath the Earth,
and will welcome you into their home,
stippling you with dirt footsteps
and antenna kisses.
Your white snake will crumble
by their mandibles,
welcoming rain to wash your body away
as the spirit becomes a part of
returning to the cycle
as the cosmic consciousness
of the One Mind that moves them all.
A random un-edited poem titled “Salem and Paint,” 2/9/14
The sky white with slush,
my skin s-toha with lust
for a city I’ve moved on from,
from a yearning at the root
for possibilities unlived—
Yet my heart feels the desert,
a luminous cacti dessert;
I’ll need to pick through the prickly spines guarding the Saguaro O’odham and of my”self,” s-toha, in a harsh-sun jewed,
as ban laugh and I breathe through s-ko’ok.
The s-ko’ok is the balance,
the control to cease from shaking spiny shoulders and speaking a free-flowing truth~
For I’m bound to be pricked
if I don’t approach the silent eyeless giants
with a mindful touch…
From s-toha to s-ce:dagi,
in fateful respect,
in hands interclasped like woven yucca,
a bridge crosses the sky.
Hey, I LOVE YOU. You don’t even know how much. How could this ever be put into words?!! YOU ARE SO WONDER-FULL. Unf. I just feel you. So deeply and passionately. alsidufhaisdjkfhkajsd,f