bardo chill

only when the last lights go dim
do you see it is a dream
not before
before you are the dream
stream of raging images
learning to speak to mirrors
that have no use for your secrets

the shrub of dreams
does not draw water from our hours
its futurity is the wind’s voicing
herding trees through awakening

waiting for you has made me old
your call at the brink of the world
makes the heart shudder

in the temple yard
they open the fountain of blessings

mandrem, 21 november 2011

the other side

what is coming back to you
from the other side

nothing

the mirror you grew up in
doesn’t reflect anymore

gone blind our mirror
lost to the dark
lost to late-night stars
our mirror

in its place a window
open to lush trees for now
tomorrow we do not know

we salute and wish you well
tomorrow we don’t know
you and all your seeds
your raucous birds
dipping at daybreak
into fury green

mandrem, 18 november 2011

end of land

in a distant land
where souls are scant
left this morning in the cold
with a wind that no longer speaks
or speaks but no one hears
with trees no one hears
or hears but no longer sees
or green forever flows
far where the eye is drifting
to water's endless embrace

new brunswick,june 2011

in the open

if we see ourselves anything other
than a flickering image in a mirror
wavering between the trivial and the tragic
then death could not be a pond where we disappear

there is perhaps a deeper humiliation
in being human
lacking the kind of literacy
that would enable us to tell the trees
how unloved we sometimes feel our hands

something consoles us in the breeze
as it animates our lives’ sketchbook
swiftly averting resistances
exfoliating our darker core
to redeem us from failings
that have much to do with distance

we are entrusted to the open
where all things
whatever they may be
wherever they may stand
are at all time beginning

siem reap, september 1, 2011

cévennes

you slip outside your voice
speechlessly err at summer’s end
the dusky garden breathes in
wind’s many gates
wind’s many gold

cicadas hush up
slowly i approach their sleep

blessed by a night of loss
we become a moonlit vessel of song
consigned with stars’ orison
adrift on distant seas

saint-hippolyte du fort, july 2009

the road again

regrets
unmet faces
unheard voices
hands not seized
smiles not returned

leave a place for that too

when the wanting fades in the being
and everything falls away
you still have
things are
it is

you still have sunrise above mekong
blazing the watercourse
as it breaks into branches

you still have the breeze
brushing silvery tree-tops
lining the river front

you are still in the reach of fire
and the waking voices

phnom penh, 1 november 2011

it's a mystery

a mystery
that glow passed onto you
in unvarnished darkness

heart rejoices
in forgetfulness that comes
watching mirrors go down
one by one over the precipice
flights all fused and effaced
in sudden stillness

raucous cawing welling up
from lush mangrove
and subdued cries of the dead
converge course in wind’s flood
blossom into pristine air

lips again stung
with morning’s sparks

nilemba

night not offering much sleep
me lying restless in the cot
you sandlewood buddha
sitting stifly on the pane

outside fireflies
mingle their glow
with stars clustering
above heavy boughs

shadows deepen
in this tiny cell
where death
silently remolds me

nilemba, sri lanka, 29 january 2008

waking

its early morning as i
enter to sit in a circle
birds spread before me
with subdued songs

that’s my gateway into
the rain's mighty voice
as it pounds heavily
on tinned roofs and leafage
as it pounds
on the arc of sleep whence i emerge
soon there returning
without this bundle
or so i hope
after long ferrying this pain

often the need to unload
adds somehow to the burden

this listening redeems
for what you hear in the rain
is a most ancient song
its the voice of the world
humming its own beginning

source of endless
vibrant refrains
where alongside birds
we too glean for provision

siem reap, 26 august 2011