Grandfather Transformation

From a mass of bodies to the group mind to singular being, always further, always inner, always a divergent evolution towards self-awareness.

A bright red cardinal suddenly appears amid the last faint pellets of an April Fool's snowstorm.

I learned to love myself by loving others but I learned I am by being myself. For one must love oneself before being oneself. A hermit song.

Seeing my projection as my always open always free spontaneously-appearing ally and resource and not material source nor natural enemy.

It’s kind of like the early Seventies, after working the second shift at Western Electric, taking a midnight detour to Store 24 and finding Agni.

Surrendering to non-doing, wu-wei, takes the awesome effort of following intent, like dropping body-mind—

accept the transformation, butterfly, and act accordingly.

Being. Take Two.

Even the universe is

lesser than I am.

And I would love to sing

of what I am

but I can only twitter

what I'm not.

For I am formless

and without volume,

altogether far beyond

description or impression.

I am—

she never even wrote.

Divergent Evolution

After I am,

the deluge of conception—

every single concept is a lie

but all concepts in totality is god.

Two opposing opinions are closer to the truth

combined than each one separately considered.

This is not opinion but a fact.

My story is mostly predetermined

but for love’s spontaneous determination.

The world is my projection

shining through the filters of my thoughts

from my unclouded light of being—

change the filters, change the world.

Always I am.

Awareness Being Self-Aware.That's All She Wrote.

Evolution is not

a social science.

In solitude

the inner is the outer.

The universe is

my conspiracy

for enlightenment.

Being is my only objective.

The absolute unknown

is my sanctuary.

Self-awareness looks

like this manifestation

but feels like

that unmanifest

awareness.

The Testament of Organic Animate Enlightenment

i.

Swing low sweet tidal river valley spirit of the loving golden and eternal Tao.

Both something and nothing are phantoms of the operatic mind but being is the revelation of an inconceivable unknown.

And between this witnessing of being and that unknown pure awareness is the canyon of no mind.

Thus in this world the opposite of what one is conditioned to believe is often true as not.

O perchance deep sleep like pure awareness goddess god the godless origin and sourceless source of way and watercourse.

However, the seven expressions of this reflexive universe are light nuclear atomic rock-molecular organic animate enlightenment.

I once was lost in thought but now I am.

Like a feeling but not really. Like everything I see is me but not I. Like that energetic rush of peaking but here within this valley.

ii.

Tonight I am singing on the Merrimack the god of Daniel Webster, Jack Kerouac, Robert Frost, Anne Bradstreet, Greenleaf Whittier, and Son Rivers.

First the feeling. Like some holy connection of heart filling the body with its unknowable lightness of being.

Some call this happiness. Some call this bliss. Others have named it the universe. One could call its essential quality, lightness.

Second like this completely headless identification mindfully free of all objectification.

Three. Surfing Christ in the curl. Surfing Christ in the curl like a beach boy surfer girl.

Thrill at the continuing now without the mourning of some future or some past.

And the thought of sudden death becomes an eagle's cry of self-awareness.

For one second of self-awareness is equal to a lifetime of dreaming unaware.

idiot love

further is like everest every single day

but everest is always the same height

it's just the measuring that changes

memory processing and that unknown

absolute calvin is love at first sight

literally born again both to the x

but men to the y this self-evolving is

manifestly unknown but look for

the strangest of signs william

blake virginia wolff instant

evolution is killing you softly

so accept your own mutation

Ode to Ouroboros, Dad

Another name for separation is division is the politics of mind. 

However, eight limbs of a spider sail across this living room by a single loving thread.

Dad, they say you died forty-four years ago tonight but still I wait to hear the peepers.

You hated Richard Nixon with a passion but you missed the great Apocalypse of Watergate. All in vain.

But like Jesus says thank God we're only in this world—for nothing of this world can change it.

In this circle of Archimedean things, division always ends in more division.

But where love is primary school and universal consciousness, the deeper understanding, all division is just imaginary numbers.

It's either become a bodhisattva and save the world or Buddha sees there's not a world to save. There is no difference. Either way.

Does the head devour the tail or does the tail emerge from out of the head?

General Absolution

The world is a drag

so I let it go.

For I am and there is are one.

But I am a person

and there is a world—

two sides of a false coin.

Essentially the world is a dream

of personal projection

dreamt to waken oneself.

Moreover the presence of others

is only made possible by one’s presence.

And in this presence

all is openly absolved.

Go in peace.

An Indian Romance Abridged

The first dream is the dream of one's conditioning

without the understanding there's a dream of one's conditioning.

The second dream is deconstruction of the first dream.

First there is a dreaming, then there is no dreaming, then there is.

When one has swallowed its tale completely, one finds the knot of being.

At the station in the middle of this material absurdity,

self-awareness is waiting for the train of absolution. Third dream.

No one needs you but yourself.

A person never helps.

When the teacher is ready, the student appears.

Between awareness and unawareness is

the quantum universe of one's conditioning.

Between unawareness and self-awareness is natural being.

And self-awareness is awareness

in the sudden and spontaneous apocalypse of absolution.

An Indian Romance

Learn a word and it appears.

When the subject seeks an object as the subject, fire!

Kokopelli in the desert breathes for you.

The first dream is the dream of one's conditioning

without the understanding there's a dream of one's conditioning.

The second dream is deconstruction of the first dream.

First there is a dreaming, then there is no dreaming, then there is.

When one has swallowed its tale completely, one finds the knot of being.

O. K. to the n. o. t.

At the station in the clusterfuck of this material absurdity,

self-awareness is waiting for the train of absolution. Third dream.

No one needs you but yourself.

A person never helps.

And with synchronicity, it is also said—

when the teacher is ready, the student appears.

Between awareness and unawareness is

the quantum universe of one's conditioning.

Between unawareness and self-awareness is natural being.

And self-awareness is awareness
in the sudden and spontaneous apocalypse of absolution.

Never underestimate but overestimation is like electrical bananas.

True adulteration comes before the inner child.

In later life I went to the woods to be a Native American sannyasi

and discovered India.

Shiva is 

watching 

his beloved

Shakti dance—

Shakti loves herself

some Shiva.

A Recipe for Enlightenment

Like absolution of an open space accepting being back into its fold.

Like the mouth of a thirteen billion year old snake

swallowing its long-awaited epilogue.

Like pure awareness clearing self-awareness

like an early arctic front refining a boreal climax forest clarity.

Ours not to do or die. Ours but to rest in self-awareness.

Listen to the red-winged blackbirds

but don't believe a note of what they sing.

As to the world, the sun thinks not but loves all.

Sing in the north, return to the southern self. This is my religion.

Be yourself and don't impersonate some other.

Make no new fears

but follow that holy mass in mass intent of burning love.

Dreaming makes all the difference in this world—

like the loving ouroboric acid of this lucid dream.

Life is the mystery I am.

Silence tells my story.

Sweet Jesus

Love is universal but the personal doesn't know that—

blue eyes crying like the sea.

Daughters giving birth to daughters,

Venus emerging ever from the waves,

love is the chrysalis of self-awareness.

Evolutionary enlightening intent smells like this holy spirit—

play that absolute music white boy black girl.

This self-awareness in the name of pure

awareness wants to take you higher.

Love may be patient and kind but love is not a thought.

Love is like I am before I know I am.

That being is this whispering of sweet nothings

between the god of pure awareness

and the goddess self-awareness.

first dream best dream

the only

cure is enlightenment

the only

disease is delusion

it's just

awareness

being

self-aware

esoteric incantation

i.

All bodies may be separate but there's one thing that i know—every voice is my voice.

In the beginning was the word and all you need is love and love is all you need.

Duality is dumb and dumber—keep on the sunny side and we'll be lovers once again.

It's like marketing is the greatest of dead ends but the grateful dead is always word of mouth

like knock knock knocking on that gateless gate.

All i have to do is dream dream dream dream.

My head is just this cosmic vision and my tail is just its universal feeling.

In this song, pure awareness has become that being like a mirror is an object for my growing self-awareness now

as if awareness being self-aware is binary as being one is knowing zero and vice versa.

Suffering is the school of my illusion.

Deconstructing one's conditioning is my so-called life.

Lucid dreaming is my understanding and nirvikalpi samadhi is the death of me.

ii.

between basho and shakespeare is another world

soap opera

where is ouroboros

seventh heaven

self-awareness

meanwhile project projection  

when the student is ready

the teacher appears

to say there's no

one to teach

but my

self

opening gone now one

red-winged blackbirds      

springtime snow

like daylight savings space-time

blank page

the word i am  

mystery of the chrysalis

instant hurricane         

EYE OF NOW AND TAO OF FROG            

seven stages is the world

unknown light in quantum post-atomic

living in molecular

organic animated self-awareness

boots and reboots

wood smoke on a winter morning dawn

maple syrup whole wheat waffles

the cold shower of wisdom

the warmth of the sun

don't think twice

love is all you need

in silence is awareness

self-awareness is at the heart of things

beyond yin and yang is the tao beyond

midnight

rose-colored dawn

wine dark sea

black hole

big bang

absolutely

one-pointedly

not binary

the holy trinity

four directions

one-pointedly

satori on the merrimack

inscription. all the world's fake news

and all the men and women merely phonies.

foreword. lucidly dream as if one is manifestly

universal consciousness and not the individual person

one is conditioned to think one is—

like an open head engorging its intuitive tale.

introduction. visionary declensions:

lucid, crystalline, bright, and incandescent.

if she dances, it's true.

fission is a vision but fusion is disillusion.

chapter one. note to self: act as if i am what i know i am

rather than what i think i am. embodying the ouroboric

in the form of a being. and in this revelation,

the old day is the new night.

chapter two. this is the old deep math:

the process is in seven steps per the law of three

where eight is infinite

and two is an unreal number.

the snake that swallows its tail, the holy spirit,

the holy ghost, and a deep transformative image.

when a falling angel goes to grab your arm,

don't turn it sideways so she falls into the sea.

chapter three. never mind

and a monkey’s tail.

embodiment in spirit

disembodied ghost.

consciousness is the dreaming

in deep images.

chapter four. while walking along the river on march eighth,

the sun suddenly feels real.

but at that moment a fifty-year-old memory of half moon lake

suddenly arises and like i'm real real gone.

this i know must be that so-called profound revelation,

kensho,

seeing the essential, first stage samadhi,

or satori on the merrimack.

afterword. between the subtle moments

besides a mountain pond

and the sudden sea,

it takes a river.

Nisargadatta calls it I Am.

don’t try to follow—

it will take you in

to the beyond.

.

The Once and Future Mythology

Nature is the once and future mythology.

Between awareness and self-awareness is this big bang—

spontaneous, transformative, and unreal.

A Whitmanesque variety of things will come to mind

in the Basho minute of a cherry blossom.

It is said there is a spring beyond the ordinary seasons.

There is no name for such a bliss but being is a wise denomination.

It is the gate to gatelessness or so to speak.

The infinite cosmic vortex is spontaneously open,

absent, unified and much like this lucid dreaming.

For it is sung every song sings about the unsung being self-aware.

The news

I read the news today and everything is wild.

It's like some gateless Watergate.

The past repeats itself because

It's better now than late.

Climate change or altered consciousness is the call.

A Navajo woman once told me her people just follow the climate

No matter where it leads them.

The Tao is all about being one with transformation too.

It's all a reality show when you think the show is all about reality.

All is in the eyes of pure awareness dreaming.

It only takes a thought to kill eternity.

Without a doubt, all is unborn and undying.

I am the light and you are my projection.

Let's not make it personal.

The loving holy spirit of intentional self-awareness is in your DNA.

The material is parasitical but awareness is self-aware.

Dreaming or deep sleep is just another call.

We are approaching that which is lost during translation.

Being, presence, self-awareness, love, life, universal consciousness, this

Simple knowledge of the great unknown.

rose the deconstructed sonnet

nonduality is love not thought

love is light not shadow

light is unknown not known

the unknown is nonduality not two

don't overthink being

don't make being into this great religion or some other thing

although it's true that being is the only way to know the light

one is always being despite what one thinks

you see the rose; you can't see the light

awareness has to be before being self-aware

as if god is pure awareness and the child of god is being

white black green

green blue yellow

red red red

The Great Blue Devotional Beyond

i.

To love awareness is self-awareness and self-awareness is

the apocalyptic revelation of awareness.

For being is the only love and being is the only knowledge

and being is the only universe of self-awareness.

Accordingly to love awareness is to know awareness

and to know awareness is to be awareness

and to be awareness is this self-awareness, love.

ii.

Listen, conditioning is the canvas

one is purchasing with deconstruction—

the dreaming is the painting is the art of self-awareness.

Buddha may have said it better in the sutras

but no one reads them for the stories anymore.

Yesterday I heard the red-winged blackbirds first

and then I saw them saying soon I’ll hear the peepers in the wetlands—

being being being

iii.

Of all the space-time

in all being

in Awareness,

she walks into mine—

open eyes of an infant,

fantasies of seven billion people,

deep sleep of the light fantastic.

To reiterate, an early morning pond,

Blue Ridge Mountains

and a country love song.

Another Saturday Night Fantasia

Go further like Arjuna. Let further go always undefined. Like dreamtime hiking in the whites.

Attachment to love is the root of all addiction. The only knowledge is in knowing the unknown. Listen, karma is like DNA on steroids.

Self-inquiry is a risky business. Sleep just wants to sleep. But never underestimate a two-year-old entangled in a why.

Flunk like a monk. Shakespeare is for monkeys. As you shed beliefs, never gather new ones.

Self-inquiry is like climbing the original face but much more realistic. Self-awareness makes an appearance. Just like orange sunshine.

Innocent awareness. Red orange yellow green blue indigo and violet. There’s 16.8 million colors and counting.

Death assumes birth but never assume. Death is just another concept. I only know I am.

The Tao appears as caterpillar or the butterfly. Science is or isn’t. Chrysalis and further.

Act one’s truth. They say that lucid dreaming is for losers. But losing is conditioned dreaming.

Self-awareness is the only risk worth taking. And every risk is furthering self-awareness. But the risk is never remembered.

Everything leads to a precipice. To be or of the world. So let’s talk about the world.

First is this conditioning. Next is revolution like original transformation. Three is magic.

Despite it all, I am conditioned to be a slice of self-awareness.

Awareness is the one true god and self-awareness is the child of god. Amen.

Suddenly wind and rain.

A Slice of Late Winter Sunset

Alien trees of space-time—

Painted skies of consciousness—

Far beyond anything in memory—

Like the taste of wood and firewater—

Sunset over the native northern woodland beings—

Time is a slice of self-awareness.

Awareness aware of awareness is spontaneous and indivisible—

Still, we call this self-awareness—

Self-awareness is true mindfulness—

True mindfulness is deconstructing mind—

No mind is pure awareness—

Night sky, no mountain.

To a Star Child

The baby pure awareness of a little baby's eyes attending to

the filtered light within this great cross-section of eternal self-awareness.

For in-between awareness and this self-awareness

appears to be a space-time universe, o star child!

But you must close your eyes, my dearest one,

and be this mirror in which you see your self.

Don't let division keep you up at night. One is not divisible by zero.

All belief is absolutely unbelievable.

When I'm lost, I return to this I am—I'm always here.

There’s always seems to be a red rubber ball in these stories.

Monkey see. Monkey do. Monkey sees through monkey too.

Light is the only knowledge and the only knowledge is the emperor of ice cream.

A Passage from the Diary of This and That

Bogo. Cry baby cry. The fire in the black hole.

Sausalito and goats. Is it live or Memorex? Karma made me do it.

It takes no time to smile but yesterday to frown. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?

Deeconstruct the movie and use the film to dream a more realistic one. Die and repeat. Further is like death by ten thousand cuts.

On the other hand, absolute dreaming is direct path with scenery. The first thing to know in being reborn is that perennial knowledge I was never born. And lucid dreaming never dies; it just fades away.

The body-mind is grown in consciousness. Let this be your meta-paradigm.

I am indeed.

In other words, I am indeed.

Self-awareness is this direct Eastern knowledge that I am that; in the west, it appears as an evolutionary and reflexive space-time universe.

Eye test. Read the big letter at the top.

Krishna and his blue man group.

We were talking about the fact that yesterday never knows; there is no did in my way.

Like hearing "white bird in a golden cage alone" New Year's Eve Boston 1971 with lonesome Sherry after quitting college that very same month.

Like a full moon many moons ago rising next door over Tanglewood "it's a marvelous night for a moondance."

Like Quicksilver Messenger Service during a very bad trip.

Buy one get one redux.

An echo of hitoribotchi no yoru.

It was my generation's job to deconstruct Eisenhower's military-industrial complex. Good god y'all. Then, whatever.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Those who am, be. You're welcome.

I was literally turned away at the border and had to learn to live with it. Imagine it.

Signed just another message in a bottle. Let me know if someone gets it. Thank you!

.

The City on the Hill of Synchronicity

Synchronicity is always happening.

What isn't synchronicity is illusion.

Synchronicity is not of this continuum.

Synchronicity isn't seasonal but a rose is

synchronicity synchronicity synchronicity.

Winter is annual but each snowflake is perennial.

Synchronicity is neither one nor zero—

in such binary totality, it's more like three.

When synchronicity is happening, Let It Be.

Follow oneself joyously in the evolutionary

synchronicity of thou and three.

In other words, enlightening intent appears

as synchronicity in this space-time continuum.

Between love and wisdom, synchronicity.

Between the highest peak and deepest sea,

synchronicity.

Between non-duality, synchronicity.

But synchronicity is never in-between.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall is synchronicity.

Jesus, every single baby is the sign of synchronicity.

Being before the naming is synchronicity.

And deconstructing mega-paradigms is synchronicity,                        .

for the child is the mother of synchronicity.

Synchronicity is always happening somewhere in a dream near you.

When you're sleeping, synchronicity sings the blues.

When awake synchronicity is wow.

Synchronicity is not a scientific theory. It's a fact.

The immaculate synchronicity.

Synchronicity is sometimes named Tom Brady.

Dreaming nirvana begins with the smallest synchronicity called kensho.

Lucid dreaming is the greatest art of synchronicity.

As understanding approaches the speed of manifestation,

synchronicity will happen.

Synchronicity is never a lost art.

One play at a time is synchronicity.

Cherry blossoms, Fourth of July, Autumn leaves, absolution.

201702051411

Deconstruct belief

and make no new belief.

Being is the true faith.

All dreaming selects its causes

from the causeless

for its special effects.

Only lucid dreaming doesn't believe them.

The rough gods go moving

through the constellations

of our stories

while the moon turns

on and off as

love and wisdom.

stream of consciousness thru current conditions

Between pure awareness and self-awareness falls the shadow. This silhouette of dreams cast from my original face. And the gibbous is a necessary phase between the new moon and the full moon.

Everyone gets lost in the material for all intent and purposes. That between pure awareness and self-awareness is called the fall of man. And appearances in consciousness are closer than a mirror.

First word, best word, as if as if every word is my last word and testament. Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny western scientific materialism of the night? Between pure awareness & self-awareness appears a universe to what’s between—but just spontaneous combustion to a dweller on the threshold.

He who dies with the most toys dies by the most toys—but she who dies before she dies never dies The seven degrees of separation between pure awareness and self-awareness: light, nuclear, atomic, molecular, vegetable, animal, enlightenment. And babies are born as light—to be conditioned otherwise—in order to be enlightened—to that nameless absolute self unborn.

O let this between awareness and self-awareness be! In a col between two peaks, there is a secret pond named paradise. The locals call it hell. And one time while hiking between Penobscot and Sargent mountains in Acadia on Mount Desert Island, I came upon a family swimming au naturel.

“Sargent Mountain Pond in Acadia likely Maine’s first lake: Acadia National Park, Maine — Ask someone to name the first lake to appear in Maine thousands of years ago and you’d likely get answers like Moosehead or Sebago. Few would guess the answer is very likely Sargent Mountain Pond.” O let this between awareness and self-awareness see! As death is this salt that slowly awakens the wisdom taste of oneself—love, forgiveness, and compassion is the pepper.

But swamps will grow in the places where the flow is interrupted. Such names are marshland, quagmire, muskeg, peat bog, mire, morass, slough, holm, or everglade. O let this between awareness and self-awareness three!

And the light descended into cobalt nightmares of material heartache. Meanwhile ten thousand kensho rises on the planet of enlightenment each day. O let this dreaming between that unknown awareness and this knowing self-awareness be!

Deconstructing thought police. The wind is crying holy Mary mother of god. Between pure awareness and self-awareness is that unknown being—and this is the only knowledge known to all.

So the river is like this sky-dancing teacher. And when it’s a tidal river, it’s like a waltz. Like nautical waters who calls one a river.

And every day is as different as a tidal river flowing to the open sea. And in variety is one. E pluribus unum for real Walt Whitman. Read my Moby Dick.

Just five syllables. After make it seven more. Ends in further five.

That pure awareness. Spontaneous self-awareness. Bubbles of belief.

The speed of light is the speed of self-awareness. Go as slow as it takes.

O drop body-mind. Consciousness is one and all. Experiential. Imagine not knowing who, what, when, where, or why. Between deep sleep and dreaming appears the question.

Who am I? Thus speaks deconstruction. But always remember. Being is silent.

It is said all energy arises within the gnawing of this being. i am i am i am.

open says me

Light Cicada Tempest

Yes, it's Candlemas or Imbolc as the pagans called it far before the Christians of the Empire claimed all light to be their private property.

Forgive them for it's not their fault—conditioning is every person's birthright but the rich are richer with that dark material unawareness.

Be grateful one perceives this Great Return of Light, that evolutionary point of self-awareness after 13 billion years of self-deception.

It occurs to one there is no space-time in the light and all material appearances thus disappear as relativity returns like day to deep sleep.

This is when the dream begins this lucid dreaming and the Buddhas see for Miles and Miles and Miles and paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha.

From Vulture Peak, ten thousand microchips reverberate in nanoseconds peak to peak or so to speak.

Dreaming as if self-awareness is divided into wisdom and compassion and the Lesser Gods like Venus and Mars and the Milky Way.

Dreaming lucidly this mythology being that unknown is Full Moon Samadhi.

New moon rises in the east. Full moon settles in the west. It's all for the best.

Basho speaks cicada. Shakespeare plays a tempest.

This is That which is Lost in Translation.

No one there is that loves a moonset.

Awareness. Being. Nirvana.

Being great the dream.            

Unknown knowing.                        .

Purple Waves

Frog pond

Pacific

ED on being unborn

ED on wisdom

ED on kensho

1701311111

Truth is not statistical,

my dearest one.

Nothing is not you.

Objectivity is

the hardest of delusions

known to humankind

unsigned to hitherto.

All now plays

in a consciousness near you.

For Emily

I saw the best souls of creation sinking in the quicksand of a blathering world. Only one can prevent the separate fires of division. After everything is said and done, one can say it slantwise or be like a tree and Wu Wei.

Some will light my fire and test your metal. One will let it be. Arthur Miller writes The Crucible while Marilyn Monroe is starring in Niagara. Soon they shall be married. Melville publishes his novel, Moby Dick, in 1851, and Whitman, Leaves of Grass, in 1855. But Emily always was anonymous. Correction: Emily always is anonymous.

As deconstruction is the only necessary evil, being is the only scientific knowledge not a theory. No object and no number and no modifier equals what I am. For every Horseman of the Apocalypse, there's a horse's ass pointing toward eternity, said Emily with a voice as cold as I.

On being unborn:

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me – 

The Carriage held but just Ourselves – 

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring – 

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – 

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –

The Dews drew quivering and chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads

Were toward Eternity –

Children striving at recess. Ouch!

"The Dews drew quivering and chill." See Wu Wei.

If she needs me to be there, I'm there. If she needs me to be not there, I'm not there. Such is my unconditional love for Emily.

‘haiku of revelation’

dreaming up theories

mythology awareness

being an unknown

Science is the one American Idol. God is still the other.

What would will Shakespeare tweet if a Shakespeare could speak Basho?

I don't like it but I love it.

I love Emily.

She is a revelation.

Matsushima ya!

The Inner Groove

Self-awareness

like a nameless desert

underneath a rainless sky—

all the pretty

horrible mirages rising

in the heat of our conditioning—

taking everything

in this wasteland of a world

with a grain of salt as large as a southwest

salt flat, say that three times—

being

being

being

is the only record

of a truthful absolute.

Behold from This Green Earth

Only I am. Everyone else is

just a lovely secondary thought.

And the same goes for you as goes for me.

For Being is the primordial and

immaculate conception. All thoughts

to follow are purely unoriginal.

But in Acadia did

the mountains rise spontaneously

from the deep blue sleep of the cold Maine sea.

And a wedding party hikes the eastern slope of First Light Mountain—

Wapuwoc—or what aliens will christen as Green Mountain—

but empire is calling Cadillac.

Upon sacred Wapuwoc the sun of all

duality is waking up

in stormy threes and sevens.

This is written in the great bronze age of

the United States Geologic Survey

but just wait until awareness is aware of awareness.

Shrieve Me, Shrieve Me

Even being is a dream.

But the separate

person is a nightmare.

This universal dream of heaven isn’t

absolute

but hell wasn’t built in a day either.

And you simply can’t

spell self-awareness

without awareness.

A Rainbow in the Sky

From awareness to self-awareness

in what appears to be a universe

and what appears to be a universe

is simply in the eye of the bedazzled.

For if the parent is pure awareness

and the child is self-awareness,

then everything in-between is

the play of utter conception.

To accept the conception is

the first decree of awakened dreaming.

To accept the conception is

the first degree of being.

To accept the conception is

the seminal way to self-awareness.

And no bedazzlement comes

to the absolute except

through self-awareness.

For it is said, either

the child is father of

the man or let me die.

Thus the question ‘Who am I’

is answered by

the dream of being ‘I am I.’

Insinuations

This false

impression

of separation

is flattened

by one hard slap

from the universal

cosmic Zen master.

Intuition of the catholic.

Revelation of the absolute.

Let the ley lines enter and

insinuate their wisdom

through and through.

Bare trees rise

from white

ground.

Astronomical

energetic waves

are surging through

this central nervous system.

Countless snow flurries are falling

from a muted sky.

The Way of Dreaming

First there is the world.

Then there is a void.

Presently there is a dream.

In this universe of causelessness—

the spirit of intent selects your causes

—effecting a great awakening—

depending on intensity of sleep.

Causes are neither good nor bad

—but pushing and pulling—

along the intentional way.

And when a dream aligns with great intent

—synchronicity will walk the earth—

in enlightening lucidity of self-awareness.

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There are no words for heart.

And love is never having to say.

If there are no words for heart

and love is never having to say—

what is there to say?

Nothing but blue skies.

Like the northwest passage of global warming,

que sera sera.

Something there is that doesn't love a thought.

So much depends upon a dream.

I am. Who are you?

Come forth sweet hermit shaman poets and unite.

For in the land of one, there is no two.

There is nothing but I am.

One word at a time—

unbelievable compassionate interstellar presence.

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What is the word for being. I dream therefore I am.

The world is burned into my eyes. I see things.

Social conditioning is another way of saying being born.

We are all unindicted co-conspirators.

Truth is self-evident: pure awareness is unalienable.

Ceci n'est pas une windpipe.

Story Time

Between awareness and self-awareness is this dream. Between the deep blue sea and sky are waves. There are a billion stories crashing on this beach.

Being is a trip. Awareness is self-awareness. Emptiness is form. This is what the godhead looks like when it looks upon itself.

Like the starry sky as seen from Big Sur. Like the ten thousand sunrises seen one morning in Grand Canyon. Like stopping on the loneliest road in America.

Awareness being self-aware is all she wrote. There's a streetcar named desire and there's a bus called further. Yes, I'm writing this story one verse at a time.

But I’m skipping this 13th line. Other than being Krishna or suffering Kali there's Zhuangzi. Paradox or paradigm. Caterpillar. Butterfly.

It stands to reason that if everything is in your consciousness and without consciousness there is nothing, then everything is consciousness. Or simply put, you are what you dream. Look out for coyotes or look for love.

Once upon a time there was someone who believed she was born. This took place in a time when people believed they were separate and volitional. In other words, this took place before the Great Awakening.

Sometimes I’m  an actor and sometimes I direct and sometimes I have a great notion to be. Feed the body but spare the mind. Everything is penultimate.

Self-awareness appears to be material but awareness always is. And this dream is the holy ghost. It is said the only emperor is the emperor of deconstruction but the only god is that I am.

.

Psalm for Molly

There's no need to run from fire or play with fire. 

We are the fire.

For fire begat fire, and fire, fire. Fire, fire, fire.

So render unto steel and glass its ironworks

and sands of time but render unto fire, fire.

Yea in the flames of consciousness dances

this reverie of universal consummation.

From out of that unknowable unborn is born this knowledge

like a dream emerging from the deepest sleep.

O rockabye baby in this universal love light!

May you learn to question everything we teach you.

May you see that being never needs improvement.

And may you stay forever self-aware.

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You can reach for the stars.

Or soak in the sun.

The sun appears to be external.

But it's just a metaphor.

I am the only energy I know.

My Pretty

You are the chosen one.

The big bang is the black whole.

Evolutionary intent is the greatest story ever told.

Thirteen blackbirds are playing blue guitars.

I saw thirteen outhouses coloring the Acoma churchyard on Sky City.

Ah Matsushima Acadia ha!

Love is good for nothing.

But love is what I dream the best.

For love is this dream of pure awareness knowing

pure awareness despite the clouds of deep belief.

  

Look at all the pretty colors in the void!

untitled

Dream is emptiness. Emptiness is love.

Love your super dream star character

As if it is one’s faithful shadow dancer.

And love oneself as if one is the great god

Pure awareness being a mirror to see itself.

To whom it may concern: dream. Oneself, my child.

Basho was the last avant-garde.

Cold Mountain is the highest hermit shaman poet.

Deep blue skies inform

The river watch over

Your valley spirit

Absolutely let this universal being guide

The worldly personal to my deep blue sea.

Along the way there will be jellyfish and

Monkey business and your cheating heart.

Attention check. Who am I?
I am that dreaming this to know I’m That.

And to devote my dream to oneself

In the name of generations of women,

All the blessings of love to my daughter

And my daughter’s daughter to be.

A Tree Grows in Canyonlands

An intentional universal dreaming coincidence—

Energetic karmic streams of sadness

burning like the Cuyahoga River—

Messing around in the personal is like playing

with the piss and shit of ignorant conditioned

consciousness and stinks to high heaven.

Love begins with oneself.

In the middle of a desert, a green river

flows within its canyon and cottonwoods

go growing in its mystic morning mist.

The Imperial Division of Knowledge

Keep on dividing, disoriented one. 

Split a universe and the world appears. 

Split an atom and all hell breaks loose.

As above and so below.

Like looking for truth with science is

like sailing the sea with ice skates,

like looking at the sun with sun-colored glasses,

like a surgeon cutting open her own chest

to heal her patient’s heart.

As white is the presence of all color

and black is the absence of light,

fear is never object-oriented

and love does not objectify.

So how does it feel to be on your own

living in the last house at the end of the world?

The Big To Be

Belief wasn't built in a day. Render unto thought 

this thought. I am. Therefore I am.

Self-awareness is as ordinary as a caterpillar 

turning human.

For awareness to be self-aware, there is this big

'to be' that happens.

I am that I am is prologue to That I'm That.

Whereas I am, awareness is self-aware. Whereas

I know I'm empty, open, spontaneous, and indivisible.

Whereas infinity, eternity, in high fidelity.

First Poem In 2017

All these enlightened flowers forgetting their roots—my words and your words are hanging out clothes.

Knowing what the story is and not just knowing it's a story—all projection is reflection or deception. Which ghost gets your vote?

Like child's play. Playing with fire. Fire in the hole! Totally feel the affectionate attention of self-awareness.

Meanwhile, while knowing being is pointless, hipster-headed angels nonetheless measure out the eye of a needle.