Tao. A long poem. Transforming a transcreation.

In the summer of 2009 I started transcreating the Tao Te Ching, reading different translations (Ellen M. Chen, David Hinton, Stephen Mitchell, Red Pine and several others), pondering each word of each verse as translated in a word-by-word grid created by Jonathan Star, and abridging each and every verse into a 140 character tweet. I ended up publishing it in book form: http://www.amazon.com/Tao-Te-Tweet-transcreated-140-character/dp/1466248912/

I am now transforming the transcreations into short sections of a long poem as a new project, making minor revisions along the way, and no longer holding to the 140 character limit, although not necessarily adding or subtracting or revising either, except in the lineation added to the original. I am trying to stay true to the initial transcreation, which attempted to stay true to the original as viewed through translations—this is not a project revisiting those translations or that amazing grid, for that was an extensive project in and of itself.

The first three transformations are included in this post, with more to follow in future posts. I am considering it a long poem based directly on the Tao Te Ching—

the latest transformation

of an original transcreation

of several unique translations
of the nameless...

Tao

1.

No words

for Tao—

words are for things.

To know Tao

no desire—

desires are for things.

Both are sourced

in darkness—

doorway to no-thing.

2.

Knowing good

creates bad—

as ordinary opposites

relying on each other.

So the sage does

without doing—

claims nothing as

deeds are never lost.

3.

Don’t praise persons and things—

people will distort.

Lead by clarifying desire—

fulfilling essentials.

If nothing is doing—

all is done.

April Fools Da Da Da

April is the month of birdsong. Great intent is in the air.

Even trees begin to show their heartburn.

In an hour or so the rain will fall like rain is always falling somewhere.

The wind will speak with nurturing authority.

One could say the earth awakens to desire.

One could say awareness is appearing in the memory.

None of this is true beyond the artifice of space-time.

Does the river of existence flow upstream to be the nameless source?

Game of Games

The game is called long division; the only rule is play your part. 

Know division by zero is an unlawful operation

because the answer is unknown. Outlaws call this insight.

As it is in quiet desperation, so it is with the cry of war.

Further, laughter is the spirit of deconstruction

as speechlessness is the matter of truth.

All the players are shaped by social conditioning.

The field of battle is deoxyribonucleic acid.

And doves go flying through the hall of mirrors.

Fear and taxes. Sadness and a movie.

Location is the holy trinity of real estate.

Yet Christ alive! Everywhere is here in consciousness.

burn this poem

anew 

declaration 

awareness 

not belief 

love 

not politics 

wisdom 

not knowledge 

deconstruction 

not nihilism 

transformation 

not monuments 

The Crystal Peaks of Ten Thousand Ways

There's a new myth written every hour. This one says a recluse doesn't avoid people. Hermits avoid one person. That which looks like me.

Sure, there's a con-artist born every minute on the way. But there's only one way. That is my way.

Listen. I add my poem to the cairn. Basically there's view and source. And one step at a time.

Only follow this way until you see your own sign. Mountains and rivers. Sunrise sunset. Consciousness speaks to the child.

Real deconstruction isn't nihilistic. True north isn't east or west. Go visualize the sun.

I am hiking further lucid dreaming consciousness awakening forgiveness on the cross of love and wisdom Krishna Shiva Vishnu.

Self Play

The angel of absolute I is whispering a firmament of words. If April is all about memory and desire, March is all about innocence and experience. Clear woods, full sun, choiceless awareness.

So the universe is a phenomenon of an absolute I as we are the circus of the universe. Monkeys see and monkeys do. This is the elephant in the great room of the blind. Being may be useless but belief is a wasteland.

And absolute I is like the experience of deep sleep. And this universal dream is like the self-awareness of absolute I. Oh wisdom and love are too nondual for cats. Inhale, exhale, sneeze, and god bless you.

As if we the phenomena could usurp the blessings of absolute I. Not even the six eyes of lions and the four wings of eagles can approach the vanity of these two faces. To end, one must locate the beginning of this play.

Who am I? Absolutely.

Easter Dreaming Absolution

Easter is actually the celebration of altered consciousness. The child is the ground of the dream.

They come for the resurrection but stay for the apocalypse. Forgive yourself. For we never knew what hit us.

Deep sleep is primal meditation. A dream cannot stop dreaming. And being is the primal dream. Intending a dream is on the other hand.

Listen. One either dreams the dream forward. Or follows the dream signs. Tantra. Yoga.

All dream is based on the latest mythology. You are living the dream you need to dream.

Words are translations of direct experience. Translations are conversions to different belief systems.

Only consciousness cures consciousness. Forgiveness doesn't forget. Forgiveness transforms.

Question everything. Believing is something. Nothing is definitely not. And samadhi is beyond the question at the moment.

Ode Sakura

You are my mirror and I'm looking beautiful today. You are my self and I am writing every moment of this play. This is my dream and lucid self-awareness its display.

True, self-awareness is not a laughing matter, but all that clouds awareness is. Why did the turkey vulture cross the road? The reflection of the sky in this stream of consciousness knows no sides.

Every word is just another brick in the story. Real masons deconstruct conspiratorially. In an ocean of Shiva swim invisible whales in true moby glory.

Thus, dreaming separation is the first addiction. Dreaming self-awareness is the last step. Still, I keep telling myself over and over it takes zero steps to reach the heart of godliness.

And In a gadda da vida lived the plus and minus. One would think it's zero, yet I know the great unknown. Knowing I am, while understanding I'm not what I think I am, is like walking on a razor's edge without a net.

Oh the godly-mystic-experiential-naturally-without-thought is being like a cherry blossom once again.

The Church of Earth

Secret beach and open sea.

Slow seductive waves.

A sudden metronome of an unseen bell-buoy.

Dune grass kissing sweet mirage.

White mountains spied from an ancient crow's nest.

The blessed Satori in every grain of sand.

Sunshine Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Cumulus clouds. Pink granite. The deep blue sirens of the sea.

Like the gods singing around a midnight starlight love-bright bonfire.

The radio blue response of earth wind and fire.

Agni. Vayu. Indra. Uma!

I dreamt they came from all around the world. Their names were Amadeus, Janis, Frank. They gathered in the Himalayas. Listen!

Taste the fire of the woods. Soothe your eyes in the circle of the sun.

The Optical Geometry of Rivers and Sky

The math of walls

and windows

doesn't add up.

I walk outside

to be the open space

of vast awareness.

A river is always

running through this

pleasant valley view.

Houses populate the northern bank

but on the southern side is eagle

innocence and disbelief.

The blue canoe of sky is ferrying

this ground of blind belief to the other side

where no side is the ground of seeing.

Another way is walk across the current

in a different pair of shoes

marked with the swoosh of compassion.

The calculus of pine trees swaying in the wind is whispering

there's no solution for

the absolute unknown.

No matter what one thinks,

clouds can never separate

the sky.

Listen, all of this is just a polychromatic vision

which I speak while sitting

silently at home.