Pentecost

I was not alone when I awoke
and it was not just my conscious mind
my emotions wondering out there somewhere

We have this spirit to create
and it tackles us in the night
pulls us from the ground, we are earthworms

I had this conversation with a friend
that consciousness is only when we wake up from a nap
and then we are conscious then until we die
There is no potential for spirit

Trying endlessly, so I think, to awaken from a dream
to spirit that is divine
to try and resurrect myself from my sleep
the pillow that smothers me in its automatic embrace

It is all we can do, then, for a moment
to know it is possible
for in the moment to awaken
and look at one's self
before the moment is gone
not to be resurrected

Every Quick Moment

Every quick moment I pause
to plant the seed for my arising

I saw you there by the window
you were smiling

It was noon and the sensation arose
a garden of delight inside me

And it was time to freeze
as the game was never ending

The man rode along pushing the bear in the grocery cart
& said. "It's your turn to ride, bear"

When the silvery slippers of time rest
peering through the dome ceiling

We look down on the numbers of times
we never knew we were alive

Being pushed along our path
waiting for it to arise

Did the situation make itself perfect?
Was there a place?
Were you the person?
Was it the time?

I remember:

Every quick moment I pause
I see you there by the window

You are smiling
Planting the seed for my arising

I too

I too, at various times, like to do Bavarian marine damage.

People Are Dividing

People are dividing what they know and they don't know into parts Traffic jams and telephone scams come to know us better than we know our selves It must be time to redress the old, the new , the now we hide from within Slowly entering the news from an unknown perspective to rattle from underneath Death's blanket folds over decay like undone garbage heaps reveals stench This is the new nature made perfectly old by its semblances to dance The light eternal is made of junk the imagination clouds beyond stars its food I blow past you and you past me as we enter another moment oh blankness It is carved carbon dating us back to the earth space we live upon

Blind Dirt

The Blues man sits poised. No, that's not true. A woman wakes in the night and carves a pumpkin. It is Spring and the pumpkin is frozen like so many tears on a ghost's face.

magic wing

the did not know thee when it said "this is no place for e"

It is true that living water brings eternal life to those who drink it. I imbibe the present moment, some buzz I hear, sharp pain I have
thickness of mind
ambition to be pure in the collective mind of posterity. That's what I scanned in. I like how I type, this need be no better for you than for me. If I had a little violence, I have seized so much,I'd seize it all again.