Saturday, November 29, 2014

Baptism of Love

We weren’t religious.
But drinking downstairs all alone one Friday night,
I started thinking who am I to not baptize our daughter,
sleeping upstairs, two years old,
dreaming new identities she could be like Lego characters
assembled thought by thought until
the ever-present inimitable magic of one’s being is covered up
by something old and borrowed.
Every beer was turning me more blue.

And so I tip-toed up the staircase,
passing prints of Andrew Wyeth’s artless landscapes
opening around an empty house,
until I stood above her sleeping peaceful form,
and felt the consciousness we shared as breathtaking love.
Then I touched my finger to my tongue
and prayed she’d always know she is that light of being
that had come into our disillusioned lives
to teach us what we always are.

I placed that finger on her forehead
feeling fourteen billion years as building to this second.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Suffering Through

The world is like an incubator 
growing wisdom in its fervor 
slowly. Some will never see 
through confines of that world because—
there’s not an object to that final 
preposition. There’s no objective 
in the world at all. Such is 
its insight being seen outright. 
There’s only the absolute subjective.

Monday, November 24, 2014

Christine: an Appreciation

She drove that orange Volkswagen like freedom itself. No one would ever know where to find her. That didn’t mean she wasn’t quite striking when around, but only that she could disappear before you knew it.

And her style, beneath it all, was traditional. She had no misgivings about the American Dream other than it should exclude no one, especially women. So it was inevitable that we would slowly drift apart. She veered toward that dream, driven, and I was always swerving away from it, searching.

The only reason we lasted as long as we did was the initial nuclear fusion-like strength of our love those first years. In time, it took the form of our beautiful daughter, to whom she sacrificed much to be a loving mother. Not too long ago, I told her ours was an epic history. She questioned that, and I countered maybe it was more mythological: the marriage of Sea and Sky and the birth of Venus.

Chris passed away on Friday. Imagine the loss of an ocean. And the depth of its absence.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

unthinkable pseutra

today's art is tomorrow’s cliché, but truth is no time.

fear of transformation fuels the status quo. imagine what love does to it?

love isn't your all-time favorite default state? what are you thinking?

there's nothing when self-awareness isn't love. isn't That something?

i’m sorry it took me so long to see there’s never anything to forgive.

acting can never keep up with the play.

why, my dear, shall we dare to imagine following the truth. how lovely that would be!

the self intends countless ever-transforming perspectives on itself. should it be anything less?

if non-dual wisdom isn't the alien, what is?

set the alarm for now.

wake up. it's now.

one chooses one. it's only the choosing that appears duplicitous.

it's not rocket science. although it's also rocket science.

one never knows the extent of what the other gives in their relationship because one never knows the limits of what the other thinks it is.

relax. surrender. only the heart knows. and only the heart does.

in the self-awareness universe, it's all about the aperture.

what is an eye? who am i ? two sides of the headless coin.

how many facets in diamond awareness?

what is your original facet?

if an answer can't be seen as a question, it isn't an answer.

what is your relationship with the non-dual?

in other words, try thinking the unthinkable.

life isn't fair. it is and it isn't.

asking who i am is love without question.

Friday, November 21, 2014


Black lights above a psychedelic 
roller coaster returning to 
the sea of soy—beneath its rails 
the barker builds banana splits 
and on the midway middlemen 
delight in dukkering amusements. 
The carnival is burning down the town. 
Come see the doubleheader being 
played in three-dimensional 
illusion! Come hear the organ grinders! 
Smell the neon; feel its pain. 
And while you wait in a line to die for, 
taste the floss that’s spun from rain. 

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Genealogical Self-analysis

The fear of death 
is just the fear of that 
which one 
essentially has always been. 
My genealogy, 
if traced in truth, 
the evolutionary scale 
on earth, continuing 
to comets, stars, 
and all 
dark matter coming from that burst 
of light emerging from 
the great unknown. 
that is my only family name.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Tempest in a Teapot

Imagine all the world is inside-out 
and what you thought was hard reality 
is pure imagination resting in 
a headless head. That picture window is 
an opening within this consciousness. 
Look, chickadees are feeding on themselves. 
Their cerebellum is this space of sky 
and eyes are everywhere it touches. Ground 
is just the edges of a deepest sleep 
from which the branches of some scientific 
playground spread until I see myself. 
My leaves are falling everywhere. My river 
runs through sure-footed galaxies. My ocean 
waves at countless years of soundless notions. 
None of this is what I really am.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

On the Reflexive Universe

The pure subjective doesn’t know 
itself—as there is no it 
to know. There is no Mars or Venus, 
no Earth or Moon or Sun, no Big Bang 
to speak about, no words at all. 
This universe of names exists 
within intent of that subjective 
self to know that self. That’s all. 
The light becomes material; 
material evolves to see 
it is the light. And what we call 
this world of suffering is just 
the last throes of an object in 
its education there’s no object. 
This is the point of space and time, 
all necessary for one rhyme.

Monday, November 17, 2014

I Am the Light

The shadow knows it doesn’t know
the light. The light is well aware
there is no shadow in the light—
and all is light. The light proclaims
I am the light of self-awareness!
There is no dark division in
my light; there are no violent nights
within a world of gloom and fear.
Without the shadow of a thought
there’s only light and not some knot
that needs to be untied in fright—
the light is one and all is light.

Proclamation of the Victorious Revolution

ordinary metaphors associate one concept with another: oh! — metaphorical pointers associate one concept with the non-conceptual: ah!

the u.s. constitution was created to establish a corporate structure for, by, and of the oligarchy—the bill of rights was just the sweetener

a strict constructionist is a defender of the oligarchy—anything else needs to work to amend the constitution. that's the way the u.s. works

true libertarians push the limits of the bill of rights

so the entire fdr-lbj-obama care system could be seen as the usurpation of the oligarchic corporate structure by a populist socialist cadre

thus it's not a civil war—it's revolution and counter-revolution

if you don't know there was a victorious revolution, you won't know there's something to proclaim

as deconstruction happens, the glory of emerging light proclaims itself

proclaim the light! that is all.