Tag Archives: light

Outlines

As I sit here it becomes clear

I need to create an outline

for a poem

that is ready to be written

 

Funny how a poem

can seem to need an outline,

to mark out everything

it could and would say

 

i) All That Is

ii) What now is becoming Known

iii) What is no longer necessary

iv) Reversals of figure/ground

 

Perhaps it is the space

between outline and poem

that I’m really interested in,

the visible reaches between

 

Wondering, will anyone else

see what I see there/here

as I map out the bridging

between seen and unseen?

 

Good thing I’m prepared for this step:

my new footwear is designed

for multidirectional levels of grounding

in body/mind/spirit and beyond

 

I have socks with holes in them,

but wait, these are black holes

and wormholes, as time disintegrates

& even temperature is refigured

 

Pants are no longer restrictive

nor all they were once worked up to be;

who wears the pants when domination

and control crumbles all around us?

 

Keep your shirt on (or not) but

find your colors amongst the

rainbow, as well as infrared

and ultra violet ~ all fluid light

 

Speaking of light, the naked eye

sees so much more than once upon a time,

marrying the inner eye & embarking

together, seeing expansion everywhere

 

The outline becomes omnidirectional

Just as time becomes No Time

Things are no longer what they seem

It is now easier than ever to Let Go

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Falling Through and Between

The cracks have been opening up –here there and underneath

what used to be on top –like cracks in a hard crust of soil

once baked by light, deluged with raindrops, more light

 

These soils are a community of their own

sometimes thirsty sometimes paused in reflection

such that growing things are made temporarily mystified

 

Would it be that something elemental is missing

Or amongst all the bystanders perhaps readily available

like implicit memory waking up giving signals of many orders

 

The dance is moving so quickly, agile or not, positron wave

falling through and between perception in pure fluid motion

bridges created as life itself, timeless free fall, magnitude of silence

Hoarfrost

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It arrived as seeming magic yesterday morning

like a new reality being seen for the first time

and remains today sharing its glow still.

 

This touch comes via its recognition –cold but not

A distinct warmth arrives unbidden. The eye

is relieved of its usual work on these mornings

 

Dispensing with its familiar taint formed of other

kinds of vapor, which we gather throughout our

day to day interactions with this stuff of reality.

 

Hoarfrost permeates much the same in its blanketing

of every surface nook and cranny, defying gravity, comes

only when called out by the elements, its conspirators.

 

Colors shift and change, the light dances new dances

–a communion of deep appreciation of living things

that have their own mastery and workings reaches me.

 

This day to day eye softens its course, lays down its tools,

puts aside whatever ways it’s become accustomed to

seeing the world and takes an in breath, yes, breathes in.

 

San Cristobal, NM

10 January 2015

Praise to Thickets Amongst Us

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Thicket along the watercourse; San Cristobal, NM

Down by the thickets of willows making their place where waters sometimes run (as a trickle or more.) This wayside is where the heart has its home, the air naturally cooling in this weave on a very hot day.

I’ve been here “on the property” for a little over two weeks but clearly haven’t arrived until now. This is my first day here in the grasses, on their way to tall, the filtered light in nuances more than I can count, the old bowing willow branches remind me of the ever present inspiration to the eye of an artist, perhaps the other way around. To draw this place or just to be and see and be touched by this wild order? The kind of beauty that can go so easily unnoticed, much less the amazing feat of interspecies communing, even those without voices, but textures, color, integrity take me over. The air is not the only element that is renewed here.

I want to say “on the other hand…” as I contemplate the contrast of the places that have been denuded (a stone’s throw from here) or stripped of their natural dignity by the use or appropriation for something we call “living our lives.” What I love about this wilder place by the draw behind the house is that life is already living here fully and I simply join in. This grand beingness of it all!

It’s not that this place is any better than someplace else, it’s just that it is THIS place and can be no other place! And how so very different it feels here than just fifty or a hundred yards away. What a gift this place speaks of my own nature, which sometimes seems much less human than just Being alive, sentience itself, able to be touched, penetrated by the exquisite weave of interpenetrating life, of consciousness. The magpies have their squawk and the mourning doves their cooing calls. The breeze, now at my back, stirs the green life alive into motion and sound. Is it the motion of things that we hear or is it something just a bit more illusive than that?

This up close visitation to the green of the thicket next to the seeping wallow brings me right to the taste of my own heart. They are not like the wider vistas of mountains in the distance with fields of sagebrush laying out before them, not like the open, open skies with all matter of clouds and blue in their ever-changing atmosphere-scape. Here things crowd in without any feeling of density or overbearingness. Here is intimacy, did I say that already, of brush and bower, of grass and twig, of every kind of insect and butterfly with the light ever shifting amongst it all. I become part of a nourishment cycle; bathing in spirit of thicket and this very place.

morning sketch

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14.5″ x 18″, in pencil and filtered light on paper

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