Sunday, October 23, 2016

I am involved


No man is an island,
Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.

Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

–John Donne

Robert Mapplethorpe
Waves (Left, Center, Right) 1980


Saturday, October 22, 2016

It Was Like This: You Were Happy


It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.

It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.

At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent—what could you say?

Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.

It does this not in forgiveness—
between you, there is nothing to forgive—
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.

Eating, too, is a thing now only for others.

It doesn’t matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

–Jane Hirshfield
for J.S.



Friday, October 21, 2016



Wednesday, October 19, 2016

by the light of the heart


When the body and mind grow weak, the Self gathers in all the powers of life and descends with them into the heart. As prana leaves the eye, it ceases to see. "He is becoming one," say the wise; "he does not see. He is becoming one; he no longer hears. He is becoming one; he no longer speaks, or tastes, or smells, or thinks, or knows." By the light of the heart the Self leaves the body by one of its gates; and when he leaves, prana follows, and with it all the vital powers of the body. He who is dying merges in consciousness, and thus consciousness accompanies him when he departs, along with the impressions of all that he has done, experienced, and known.

–Brihadaranyaka Upanishad



Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Pantheist, excerpt


Yea, I am one with all I see,

With wind and wave, with pine and palm;

Their very elements in me

Are fused to make me what I am.

Through me their common life-stream flows,

And when I yield this human breath,

In leaf and blossom, bud and rose,

Live on I will….

There is no Death.

–Robert Service


Monday, October 17, 2016

life is more true than reason will deceive


life is more true than reason will deceive

(more secret or than madness did reveal)

deeper is life than lose:higher than have

—but beauty is more each than living’s

allmultiplied by infinity sans if

the mightiest meditations of mankind

cancelled are by one merely opening leaf

(beyond whose nearness there is no beyond)

or does some littler bird than eyes can learn

look up to silence and completely sing?

futures are obsolete;pasts are unborn

(here less than nothing’s more than everything)

death,as men call him,ends what they call men

—but beauty is more now than dying’s when

–E. E. Cummings


Sunday, October 16, 2016

your homecoming will be my homecoming


your homecoming will be my homecoming-
my selves go with you,only i remain;
a shadow phantom effigy or seeming
(an almost someone always who’s noone)

a noone who,till their and your returning,
spends the forever of his loneliness
dreaming their eyes have opened to your mourning

feeling their stars have risen through your skies:
so,in how merciful love’s own name,linger
no more than selfless i can quite endure
the absence of that moment when a stranger
takes in his arms my very lifes who’s you

-when all fears hopes beliefs doubts disappear.
Everywhere and joy’s perfect wholeness we’re.

E. E. Cummings