Armistice Day Poem

As if one hundred years of age, 

mid-November leaves are clinging 

to the emptiness of branches.

Wind gusts of forty miles per hour is being forecast for today. 

And when that wind goes blowing,

leaves go dancing in its path without direct trajectory.

The world becomes a disarray of multitudinous

non-aerodynamic shapes of forms

with single intent.

Thus it is said

to love the archer

and understand the missing of the mark.

Dreamtime Spiritual

The universal when divided is a personal World at War.

Every conflict in the dreamstate is like a dreamsong calling on oneself
Return to Forever.

Science teaches certain facts of all of this but resting in nonconceptual
being is the only knowledge of just That.

Donald Trump is like a mirror of collective

psychokillers qu'est-ce que c'est.

The silver absurd waves of an infinite sea

crying out a wilderness of names.

Presence, spirit, consciousness and being. Universal, causeless

and spontaneous. Jesus and Zhuangzi. Absolutely.

There is no fixing the world. It fixes you.

Either dream the dream one loves to dream

or dream about that dream as in a mirror darkly.

following emotion

through some thought

filtering the light of joy

is resting in this being

one's absolution

White noise. The Avenues of Mountain Water. Rounded spirits of the glacier.

Concerto in Be and Symphony in See

if the self suffers as Self abides 

and there is no self but Self 

then being is the middleman 

Universal meditation like a wave intuiting the sea like trees embracing light like consciousness reflecting awareness. Sounding Hiawatha by the rapid waters of four corners. 

After hydrogen appears the big illusion. Self-inquiry reveals the liberating sudden emptiness of answering.

bodhisattva

may you see

you may dream

like a long gone

Buddha in love

as if from Colorado

Springs it's either

Pike's Peak or

Garden of the Gods

as a recluse

on Cold Mountain

while diving into

grapevine pond

each Sunday

Hallelujah Cathedral of our Mother! Every moment is as it was and as it should be. Unborn sudden free one.

transformation procreation

technology or deconstruction

one and none

Listen. the kiss of quantum whispers is always in the air.

when one's awakening

becomes quicker than

prior mind will process

please to follow love

Whatever this lifetime brings to the table is always being served.

London Calling

prophecy full moon

Blessed is the one who questions oneself. It's not easy being postmodern.

all spacetime is

oneself intending

self-awareness

because oneself

This is where I start accentuating nature as I question climate change myself. Spoiler: no one is expelled. Self-awareness is the paradoxical intent of god the self.

First learn to love everything. Then believe in nothing. Raising consciousness is like affectionate awareness as experienced. And silence is my equal love. 

There's nothing to fear but identity itself. Love is the nearest thing to an answer. Being is mostly misunderstood.

Starry Starry parts of a great black Whole.

Eastern Standard Spiritual

Nine prophetic snow birds on bare ground.

The golden oak leaves of November burnishing the river.

Sea clouds, contrails, and the last clear skies of Daylight Savings Time.

Bare trees deconstruct the house of horrors.

As the abstract matrix of docks and boats are dropped on shore,

the current is open, spontaneous, and unified.

Now the silver waxing fleck of moon in sapphire sunshine afternoon!

If one tears the construct down, one will find oneself in being.

In that awareness reflected in this consciousness,

this so-called feeling called affectionate awareness,

is abiding absolution.

Unknown but never nothing, that is all.

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