In an instant one thought arrives as a plague
Unwanted, not to be reconciled
The thrill is gone as if, well, that’s a feeling--
Mindfulness wanted, unwanted,
Snare and flute. The catch is an allowance
Of birdsong, a hum through the yard’s
No-scheme of things, no reason for season
But great cosmic sense, the order you’re in
Too much one thought, too much that thought
Then the accomplishing vehicle I enter, naked, stripped of design
Guru my guide, a purified mind-flame, no clutter left
In the cabin.
There is something in the way she turns her head
And lifts her eyes, a quizzical gleam
Finally, what is it? The thing under the
Surface, a place you are going
Happily not knowing the way
A simple dichotomy like cats’ eyes
One beside the other, purchasing
Trouble in a bubble.
The irritation produces pearls—
An immense weight of depression, like a caterpillar
On a farm, waking and seeing
A nightmare slipping behind a picture--
A reddish brown bird on a pole
Inside glass a soft spot
Inside earth is fire
Beauty waiting
When that’s not what you thought it was doing
Calling for clarity in the broth
A large open sore with
Image-hooks, sound-hooks, thought-buds
Scraping the sky as they roll, the list goes on
Did you find the warranty card
Sucked by erosion? Only a joint.
And this will be yesterday
When the new year arrives. But will it? Once it?
Your triumphs are not on the record
This morning’s content comes from Sarasvati
Herself singing and playing the vina
Holding it up, playing the scope of it
In mind—tasting its promise--
Joy commingled with
Devotion-- love of singing
Heart-songs. Take a moment, listen
What does it do in your body
Like water, fire, wind walking
Around, pains a little in the joint
Just because of alternation, restless.
Is it carrying devotion
Right into confusion? It has
Grace under fire, like water
The music gets onto on its knees
Sarasvati playing and singing her vina
Sounds touch earth and bounce on skin
Foam rises on the sea
And veins and chambers slide along the wave
What takes a stab at many
Consanguinous directions at once
When passed through the eye of a needle?
Dandelion root crowns
Dry bone dangle;
Green buds sway
In the churchyard: fodder for groundhogs
Brightening crypts. Let’s have tea
One person is alive, not yet
Gone like a spirit like a whiff
Of something passed to another
To whom life then catches up
While walking blithely down a lane.
Who or what purports to say?
Who puts a warm hand on one’s shoulder
And asking no questions
Guides him to a field
To smell old stalks and earth.
The sky arcs through ears and nostrils
To become a sudden friend
Available if not always found by a tree
Go to it, every detail
Of the surface, pond and cattail
Mountain, sky, and limb
Just below their feelings for each other
What can I do—hearts of geese incline
And land in water—a sure sign
We have this power growing through our fingers
That into others in the scene enroots
A system inter-animating logic
Water guides our footprints to each other
Lip and tongue talk down that avenue
That leads to what’s becoming sorcerous
Come, everything that seems to be implores,
To bed and feel these kindlings flame
These kinds that grew together in the night
A mind like bindweed--
From that inner pattern
Ride on turtles, landing tailored in the evening
We are woven into time-threads
Thinking and forgetting
What it is to rise and bob and duck and go