The Emperor’s Regalia

In a world of thought, the one 

with singular belief is king. 

Monomaniacal, the force 

it brings is that of all its being— 

to the purpose it believes 

exists for being. What a work 

of razzle-dazzle this thought is! 

Even the rivers are dammed to follow. 

Bridge to Now Here

They’re setting off explosions

in the morning. Waking

to repeated pops,

I wonder where I am

and what those distant bangs

foretell—or vice versa.

Then it dawns on me.

They must be coming from

the bridge site. Down by the pylons,

construction workers wrest

the old one down and raise

the latest engineering

testament to getting

to another place

on time. The river though,

which this old interstate

crosses without a token

given to a ferryman,

keeps on streaming on,

always in the mountains,

always at the sea,

always straight through me.

The Heart of the Matter

The one conditioner is two. 

At first, it’s necessary to 

reflect, and all the world is staged 

to be my mirror. Taking time, 

I learn to see the other as 

myself. It isn’t easy though. 

We call this practice suffering. 

It lasts until another slowly 

gets it in this head—I am 

not two. There is a shortcut though— 

to love the other as my self. 

This is the heart of my intent.

For I am That, the absolute

unknowable subjective self

dividing self to know my self.

This world has named that knowing love.

And as below, it is above.

Feedback

They told me one’s divided and 

they taught me all the names in this 

division. For example, tree: 

there’s the roots and trunk and branches, 

not to mention every leaf. 

It never stops! Example leaf: 

there’s cuticle and epidermis, 

mesophyll and chloroplast. 

The depth is almost infinite. 

In time you reach the quantum wave, 

where what you see is probable, 

determined by the one that sees. 

That’s universal consciousness, 

conditioned as its newest node 

within its network not to know 

all’s one, but one's separate in a world 

divided. Such a world is war, 

defending indefensible 

divisions. Even those professing 

peace and justice, equality 

for all, will fight the other for it. 

On the other hand, that one 

acclaiming one—its sound is love.

The Whole Way

I was frolicking in a gloomy pool

before I felt a need to quench my thirst.

And so I stopped to let the water settle.

Feeling the current, I followed its rush to an inlet.

That stream was strong and crystal clear; it tumbled

down a mountain slope electric white

water, vivid life-giving, straight from the source.

I rested in its course and flowed upstream,

although to other eyes it would appear

I stumbled over rounded boulders, sank

in sandy hollows, scrambled over treefall,

always in ascent. Between two slabs,

the unseen source is always finding me—

I am rushing from my whole to be.

Vahana Who

Looking out the picture window, 

I thought I saw an orange owl. 

It was mid-November, leaves 

already fallen. An optical 

illusion, it was not. It flew 

away as fast as I could tell 

whether it was an owl or something 

other—it wasn't something other. 

Whatever we believe the world 

to be, it is. That dazzling vision 

is just as real as you or me 

and flies upon a great intent. 

Here it is! It never went.

fermenting light

to know the meaning of oneself—

one needs to know what that self is—

and that process of discovery of what one is—

is the meaning of oneself

one is that unknowable subjective—

that to know itself divides itself—

identifying with a single object—

perceiving there’s no other but self

that universe between identity and perception is—

the fermentation that identity defines as suffering—

and perception sees as its instructions

there's no describing the indescribable—

the unclouded expression of the absolute is light—

the qualities of light are its space of awareness and its focus of unconditional love—

thus a definition for space-time is affectionate awareness—

and the full expression of the indescribable absolute is the space-time of affectionate awareness—

and the expressed insight of the absolute is 'i am that'—

pseutra suite 6 - essential division

i 

four gods am i 

from a whisper to a dream 

the world has created an identity out of nothing—and it doesn’t want reminders that it did so 

i divide myself in the intent to see myself 

the world has created an identity out of nothing—and it would rather fight about the details of identity than just be 

intent trumps division—for division lies within intent 

i divide myself in the intent to see myself—but identifying with an aspect of division temporarily blinds myself

ii

and the howl of self-realizing intent

self howls a primal howl in its atomic urge to howl communion with itself across the howling desert silence

who howled on its knees in the collective subconscious and was dragged off the roof waving oceanic and sutra

iii

from howl to a lullaby

the expression of self-awareness is love

intent, from that, unknown, being comes to mind in self-awareness

the joyous and enlightening—evolutionary—intent of the universe—is that unknowable self—becoming aware of being—oneself right now right here

may you stay forever unknown

iv

misunderstanding the necessity of division in knowing the unknown, one denies that part of itself

denial of this fourth god of division leads to active annihilation or passive nihilism

not alone but all one

love! not war nor apathy.

v

you're the truth but i can't tell you that

i don't pretend to know the truth—i am the truth

one doesn't know nothing until it knows two

vii

one can say thought is a process—within that of realizational intent—caught in an infinite loop—of mistaken identity malfunctioning

or one can say thought is a process—within that of realizational intent—requiring many loops to re-clarify its nature—there’s no malfunction

viii

there's no malfunctioning, only functioning

either you die before you die or you die when you die. either way, you're always unborn.

to learn to walk the high wire, you'll want a ladder and a net

the importance of being earnest; the importance of having faith.


ix

not any thing in particular but everything in general

sound accentuates the silence

put your mouth where your nothing is

the are no experts in new experience

the past is just as important as any kind of dream interpretation

love the two you are

x

the realizational process thru its mind creates an other—for knowing the other—is knowing one’s self——and another word for knowing is loving

it appears a messy process to that which identifies with the divided—the unknowable dividing itself in order to know itself

quantum probabilty is the result as consciousness delves so deeply into the 'mechanics' of consciousness, feedback happens.

the absolute pure subjective intent to know itself is instantaneous—it’s the mind within the cosmic process of that intent which makes time

universal consciousness, aka the collective unconscious, knows and shares all experience instantaneously—this is karma

in so many years, 'free will' be remembered as that quaint medieval belief before the great surrendering

faith in the unknown is just faith in one's self

just think it through to the jumping-off point and then love!

Ode to a Scene in Gravity

in emptiness, one howls. 

one howls to find another version of your self within another. 

in emptiness, one listens for another howl. 

across the desert void, one howls 

and then another howls. 

howling is the sound of silence. 

howling is intent to hear the sound of silence. 

howling is the poem and 

howling is the eye. 

howling is coyote in the middle of its maya. 

howling is the mesa, 

howling is the beauty. 

howl i-am to howl i-am 

the self-same howl of universal one i-am. 

this universe is one vast howl intending self-awareness 

and within that howling revelation is 

an unconditioned lullaby of waking. 

The Dimming of Our Golden Complex

The bottom line is light. Our evolution

whose art is all the universe is in

the business of enlightening intent.

The management forgets that data though.

Security becomes the number one

priority. Assembly lines are down—

but the building is protected by

the best insurance money buys. And meanwhile,

Research and Development is digging

for their treasures in a thing as far

as they can dig, until they see they’re digging

in their self, except they never realize

that’s their self—they think that that's a thing.

That's the funny thing about fool’s god.

I Went to the Woods Because

Every element in the woods 

is responding to the light. 

Spontaneity is the only design. 

Branches grow to catch the rays 

appearing to have traveled since 

another branch grew in the way. 

It’s all about the love of leaves. 

Holy photosynthesis, 

have mercy on my eyes which long 

to look upon the artlessness 

of indigenous creation in 

this current draft of shade and sky. 

There’s nothing us trees don’t know. 

This is how awareness moves 

unattached to lines of thought. 

It’s why we go to the woods.

Sam and Sara's Original Horror Show

When love mistook it was the mind, 

all kinds of hell broke out, you see. 

Well, love, it got real lost in all 

loose change and counterfeit three dollar bills 

and, well, I needn’t have to tell 

you it’s a god-damned sin, my friend, 

a love-forsaken bloody shame. 

It’s like some crosscut saw becomes 

an eye and all the sights turned out 

divided. I’m not talking long 

division but the slow and violent 

sort. It makes you sick to think 

of it. Like everything was either 

this or that and if you wasn’t 

on the side it occupied, 

well you was on the other side, 

and please believe me, that’s no scenic 

point of view to be. In fact, 

it’s all-out war. And not the worldly 

only, small potatoes too, 

just people being people, taking 

everything so personal. 

It’s quite the horror, don’t you think? 

all is self-inquiry already pseutra

seven billion selves suffering to know oneself

in seven billion welcome different loving ways,

all shimmering facets of the one diamond way.

nothing is ever wrong because

every apparent self is intending toward thatself

by following the love of oneself

in the best way imaginable.

the best way imaginable isn't

'the ends justify the means' or vice versa

but the hidden realization

the means are the ends *and* vice versa.

once seeing

'for I to know anything, I must first know this I,'

then any meaning of the universe is obviously

intent to know That, I.

Swan Song

At the wild mouth of the Merrimack, 

I pivot north to rove the shore. 

My Atlantic is quite pacific today; 

I feel my lake-like waves advancing 

like the white caps on a pond 

that seems like adolescent yesterday 

although it’s fifty years in memory now.

I didn’t know I was the lake back then,

and when I dived into the water

from the Dubois diving board,

I was really diving in myself.

This later insight arrived in meditation.

Earlier this morning I saw a swan upriver

floating on the slow outgoing tide.

I felt its graceful curve of neck in mine

as I turned to watch it pass, a brilliant

arc of white within the silvery mist.

Our silence watches all of this and knows

that none of this is what I am;

space-time is a single dream with infinite

dimensions in unfathomable intent.

Listen, the swan is going out to sea.

the heart of fall

leaves fall. 

fall is transformation. 

transformation is the time it takes to blink. 

blink is that great unknown i am which mind attempts to freeze in space and time. 

time is an interval between those transformations which occur in cycles like the sunrise or full moon.

moon is pointing to a wave.

wave is emptiness.

emptiness is wave. 

He’s Walt Whitman; Who Am I?

The absolute unknowable

is such the subject there’s no object

in that absolute subjective.

Since one can only know an object,

the absolute subjective doesn’t

even know itself. There’s nothing

but the empty mirror of an eye

with not even nothing to be seen—

extemporaneously

there’s absolute intent to know oneself.

Don’t you have that selfsame yearn to know yourself?

This universe is being subdivided for exactly that.

Have you reckoned with reckoning much?

Have you practiced to know the false as false?

Have you felt so proud to see you’re not the process

but the process is intent to know yourself?

Stop acting yin and yang and in that freeing

one possesses knowing of one’s being.

Mind’s Creation Isn’t Really Two

A blackbird on a live thin wire is vibrant 

with its Kwai Chang Caine Kung Fu. 

A great blue heron, like some prehistoric 

statue, is standing in the shallows that ensue. 

That one big bang is a brainstorm 

of the mind conjecturing this two. 

Which came first, the question or the answer? 

It's true the great blue heron isn’t really blue. 

Thoughts of fish begin to stir within 

an energy of water made anew. 

Again, the great blue heron isn’t really blue. 

The fork runs away with the spoon 

and the fool jumps over the moon, mon dieu! 

One last time, the great blue heron isn’t really blue.

And Every One a God

It appears to be a messy process—

to one identifying with the process. 

The Big Bang explodes like an awfully great notion. 

Stars collide like Bogart and Bacall. 

The earth erupts in a carnival of volcanic flames 

and breaks apart in workaday tectonic shifts. 

Hurricanes, tornadoes, waterspouts, oh my! 

And now, Neanderthals are clubbing like Neanderthals.

Everyone is acting like a god! 

But that’s the final measure of creation, 

last procedure in this grand holistic process. 

Evolution isn’t fundamentally pointless; 

fourteen billion years of cellular division 

arrives within this central nervous system 

suddenly now capable of self-awareness. 

So stop this moment to reflect within—

one is 

that great unknown 

making itself 

be known, 

for knowing is being 

which mind divides 

in order to know 

its self.

A Prayer for the True Fourth God

Three blackbirds aren’t enough. 

Without a fourth, direction is completely incomplete. 

The west is ceaselessly lost in trinity. 

And one may never know oneself 

without those ice floes of true north. 

O sacred vase and holy sake cup,

O Kachinas standing on the surface of a book case,

O blue guitar, O cactus plant, O radio,

without you i would never know

that what i am is nothing with potentiality

for everything within my own intent

to know my own unknowable existence.

O Parent, Child, and Holy Realizational Intent,

please accept these great ten-thousand objects

as another God within your sacred pantheon,

and let us pray the process is complete

and now and everlastingly perpetual.

Where the mind’s objectification is a vital operation

and the world is just the function run away within itself.

For hell is only heaven and samsara is nirvana—

so chop God and carry my true self.

synenergi

(there's this 

universal 

kinesthetic feeling 

like looking at thought 

with intuition 

there’s this soothing 

letting-go 

of yin 

and yang 

there’s this blissful quivering 

in intuitively assimilating 

the visceral universality of 

what I am) 

permeating all of this is formless 

silent 

unknown potentiality—