An Abstract Expressionistic Spiritual

Call it Absolute or God the Father. That's my natural state. Unknown.

The rope is binary. The snake is two.

Black wood. White paper. Red newspaper.

Wholly the sun or an absolutely unknowable black hole. Demonstrably this and that.

The black caws of a crow above a field of corn maiden light intent.

In the Cherry Blossom and Banana Day, there is no need to swallow any aspirin.

Desert falling rain clouds as seen through a bloodshot sandstone arch.

I was somewhere around the edge of Zuni when I saw the white buffalo.

And in the end, everything is black and white but never right or wrong.

Beneath a joker moon is walking thirteen dreams about a country nothing.

the way of the bird is the word

the moon jumped over the now

knowing nothing but feeling universally groovy

An Eastern New England Spiritual

It is said nothing good comes from an east wind.

It is said to criticize a snake is to give oneself no rope.

It is said memory makes the world go round.

In fact scientific materialism has always been anti-science.

Everyone thinks to make a better illusion but only love will do.

Forget belief. Remember that unknown.

When I was a child, I thought the world of things, but now that I am so much younger, I am Unborn.

We run the necessary gauntlet of the world until one understands this inconceivably original innocence.

One only knows the dark by feeling. Any other kind of knowing than this affectionate awareness is merely memorable.

Listen to oneself.

Don't deface another.

Make no new belief.

Love compassion and forgiveness is one's personal best.

Self-Aware Spiritual

Absolution occurs in the universal only. The personal is fictional.

On its way to becoming self-aware, the universe crashes into Adam and Eve.

Self-awareness is like the natural current of a river and a person is like a backwater channel.

Imagining oneself to be universal is just acting natural.

Suddenly non-duality is binary: 01101001.

The mind appears to be molecular but self-awareness is organic.

There is a deep affectionate awareness underlying one and all from flower to the root.

And the god of original black whole awareness descends into the material to rise through evolutionary intent into the god of self-awareness.

Upon the clearing, the depth of sea reflects the space of sky.

Koan Like Spiritual

The super-ego of mythology with the personality of a dream.

He said. She said. History and her story.

And magical reality is measured in degrees of self-awareness.

To be direct about these things, no mind is nothing if not universal.

And a koan is nothing but a myth where words are gods.

Vice is versa, love is the only virtue, and everything else is unknown.

It is said that god which is named Intent is telling stories.

Someone is singing truth stings like Appalachian Whiskey honestly distilled.

As if one not experiencing the necessary moment of intent is bound to repeat it.

Superman loves Lois

like the lotus is the sutra

and self-awareness is intent

Play Meets Meditation

Suddenly subjective recollection like remembrance of taste but flashback of smell.

As if this present manifestation is remembering the future more clearly than the past.

Memory appears to be thunder stuck in thought but premonition is a lightning feeling.

The turn turn turn is at the present crux of Tao as yin turns yang or past turns future or vice is to the versa.

Likewise near November First as play is meeting meditation and the curtain between the two is suddenly transparent.

Deer. Bare woods. The diamond sun. And eating my heart alive.

a modern spiritual

what waxes wanes

what wanes is unreal

saying that three times is quite the mantra

so much depends

upon a full wolf moon glazed

with the light of an unseen sun

footnote william carlos williams red wheelbarrow

be the sun and let the black whole see

after woke is awake waiting for the sudden

after kensho comes the recluse

beauty is truth.

truth is the beauty of

form being intent

in holy trinity

nature is my bhakti but now it's now

it's only cherry blossoms other shit and more imagination but i love it

the easy breathing of falling leaves and breathing in again

so meanwhile while waiting for the sudden

do no practical harm to others

love the other as oneself that is all

A Postmodern Spiritual

Dream an avocado surf illusion surf the red hot peppercorn and panoramic ocean view.

O great wave John Donne the causeless raven beats beneath the power of ten thousand sunflowers howling in the purple haze of a pissing sun.

Cicadas sing in sweet Virginia like a mantra strawberry lilac lotus black apocalypse calypso Joshua and nobody the frog.

Science says that everything is nothing but some quantum string—yet one acts as if the world is a thread of something else.

Jesus stopped to say belief is for the birds but render love unto oneself.

The body is through a glass willing. Spirit is ancient sunlight.

Inside each sun and daughter is Buddha Nature.

The chant of every chapter and the song of universal verse.

We are X-ray.

The universe in a moon and the absolute almighty of the unseen sun.

Mountains and rivers

Through the heart of dark continent

Looking for a way

To sea

Moby Dick on Highway Sixty-One. Call me unborn.

And the chorus, and the chorus, and the chorus, and the cool cool night.