Tag: Poetry


You are huddled against a flower’s stamen, naked and much too cold to smell the fragrance soon to overtake your world. This void-black sky is the outstretched arms of rose petals, enclosed over you like a domed cocoon, fingers meeting high overhead and interwoven like strands of a grandmother basket. **Gasping Amazement! (sucking in) …haaaaaaa…
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What would be left of you for me if I no longer wanted you to be a something else?



I tried to be a saint once; it didn’t work. So now I carry a pocketful of zippers when I walk into town. I lay them on the sidewalk and pull on their sliders, separating the concrete to reveal the sweet mystery of light and sound that bounces between bamboo stalks when played upon by…
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Mustard Seed

This is the faith found folded inside the absence of all things, existing not for god or for man or the angels but for its own Existence. It’s what’s left when loss and confusion have stripped away the nail from where the universe hangs.


Let me touch my lips to your cheek, so I may swallow your tears. Then, maybe they will enter my bloodstream, and I can finally feel your preciousness with my entire body.


The gods and saints never stopped showering us with flowers. We have just forgotten how to walk on this earth lightly as if every step pressed into a petal to release its sweet fragrance.


What I most want to do tonight is wrestle the sky, grab a hold of a good-sized chunk and wring it like a wet rag for a single drop of light.


A log cannot jump out of the flame. So, what good can resistance do but grant a few extra moments of intense burning?


Can we be bonded by a faith like this? where our own existence is enough? and our faults seem to vanish in its ocean of magnificence the way a mosquito seems to vanish as it dances across the sun? This here we are is the gateway into a Love so abundant that ripe plums weigh…
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