who do not know me
who am self-made
bearer of fire
heavenly bliss
through me
not because of me
in me
out of me
the sacred fire of a hundred lost deserts
the water from a million silent jungles
who do not give up their secrets easily.

I know where I have been and no one else speaks for me
you would not believe the story even if I tried

My hips have struck the chord
atop the temples of Palenque
the memory of my fathers
the laughter of my daughters
the blood of my soul
the song of my kind
breathes into my frame
moving me beyond time
the sacred place
self made,
turning ’round
until I am here.

Buddha points to earth

Everything resolves back into Now.

The pants drying on the line
speaking in riddles
beyond this time
flowers open and speak riddles
sung backward in coded sequences
you have to be quick to catch
clouds turn dark and thunder rolls.
The cat turns over and says,
licking herself,
“I taste good, but you should see interstellar space…”
“Oh, believe me, I know…”
Squinting she says, “belief is not required…”

The house shakes and cracks
as I release that old poison
like ghosts leaving a cemetery
you know how it goes; scary as hell until you realize its all in how you
look at it.
Their forms flee laughing
it is all in how you see
and seeing is a choice, you see.
All of this
a wonderful choice
and many have forgot
as fingers wag outwardly
I wonder what journey will bring them
to that vast sea.
To know
is not for me.

The pants on the line say,
“You bring it all with you
like bishops and beliefs
random scraps
and boundless stupidity
you bring it
all of it;
you thought you would be changed.”
Something tells me we already are.

Buddha sits, one eyebrow raised,
a smile parting his lips
a smile I think will part this world someday
will part me surely
as wave after wave is allowed
so much forgotten
like old shipwrecks
you just have to get out and let it go
and in so doing
and laugh
at the utter absurdity of it all…
Pants smile and say,
“Now you are getting it;
abandon everything so you know what you got!”

The thunder in the world
the thunder in me
makes me incomprehensible
I have played others’ stories of me
always resulting in illusion
and loss.
Hands that clutch
keeping me in the fight
while I wonder why it even ever needed to be a fight.
“Illusion makes people like that mad…..the whole world is that way….but interstellar space is better than any fish”
so says the cat peering around the house.
“You gonna let me in or am I going to have to call in my homie troops? I’m kinda hungry.”

It is time to let in the cat
lay down
and wax multidimensional.
It wont be too much longer
that I too will be a goner.

“Abandon! Abdandon!” a sattva says with her wild eyes ablaze
Another points to earth in that knowing gaze
this old house shakes and shudders
now in joy