This is an art show i’m having this month at Empire coffee, which is a REALLY great place that’s inside of a train car and owned ran and managed by super fantastic people. quite fancy the whole thing! you should come look at art and drink coffee or tea! it’s on cherry & 5th, next to the amtrak station, the “reception” is sat. the art is up all month.

There can be no other purpose for relating

There is nothing subtle about the words
that blossom from your tongue.
In fact, each note that vibrates my frame is cause
for celebration.
How then, to tempt this supposedly sacred transmission.
How to relate such a suggestion within the framework
of a sentence? She.
is a translator, he claims.
Run the impulsive reality through the stream of her being.
She is your primper, your internal god-willing meter.
She never waivers in her attempts to transfigure your
every outward gesture into a gift.
Her wisdom dances within the circuitry of loves creation.
All of creation.
You are a witness,
who must L I S T E N,
while simultaneously creating,
through her suggestions.
Her dance is eternal
written into the operating code of any living thing.
To forget or neglect her and act, is to deny your ability
to dance your eternal dance. Instead you dance for today, or yesterday
or tomorrow, you will not find her there.
She only exists within you
right here right now.
When you see this reality, you will know the truth of these words.
And eventually you will not care to dance without her guidance.
You will live more and more within the profound depths
of her eternal graciousness.
Capturing the underlying Yes within your own transmission,
you know
there can be no other purpose for relating.

The dreamers eyes touch me

The dreamers eyes touch me
soothing my own tired
blood sodden, sorrow filled orbs
twinges of hope
intermingled with fear
comfort as well though,
an inner knowing that these
puncturing needles are never
without purpose.
seeking the perfect answer.
providing, with eyes unclouded.
To drift
for days on end
laying naked upon the deck of a craft
built, by the sheer will of our inner mothers knowing,
in the middle of a vast
gently swaying sea
the sweet smell of salt
the cry of the gulls circling overhead.
how do you do it?
i wonder
and everytime
without fail,
rescuing me
wrenching I like a weed
from my noose-like nest,
my perch atop the spire of death,
delicately curling talons around my trunk,
delivering me to the doorstep of my hearts
momentarily forgoten desire.
quenching the thirst of a million previous Is.
Revealing, in an instant
the meaning of my inexhaustible toil,
grooming my white crystaline skin,
the tip of your angelic tongue,
a welcome break
in the storm clouds
that have become my mind.

your life is your souls food

your life
is your souls food,
she says.
the explicitly deliberate
in which you breed with circumstance
the way we dance.
she says there are no capitol sums in my body
to increase and decrease in velocity, shape, size and so forth.
this is my nature
the way in which I create.
your relationship to this will paint your picture
the tenderness of the structure is determined by your ability to be,
to see past the material needs and re-invest
in what lies
beneath the floor boards of evermore
I lay your foundation
I plant a seed within thee
past the pushing and pulling
and you will find me
beyond the depths of that which inevitably comes next
and you will here me
the fire that burns in minds eye
and you will see me
wide the door
to hearts sacred chamber
and we shall conquer the world
with light.

the nature of my longing

my indecision
born of shadow
a cake i longed to eat
a marraige ceremony of the mind
then divorcing me from my senses
I sought refuge in the cave
there, amidst the callers
entered she
i being the confused one i once was
sought her approval through the usual means
charm, casual entertainment, smart witts
she laughed
but not in delight
it was more like disgust
in fact she exited through the same door of longing
that she had entered
a door that would never disappear
no matter how many of them ignored it.
eventually the dice were re-thrown
I found myself wandering through a dark wasteland
a city,
on desolation, and left in the same manner
the shades meanwhile mutating together like
huddled football players, creating a most formidable beast.
the samurai in me laughed
bring it on
i thought
finally a challenge i can face
and slice i did
straight through the dimming hordes defeaning roars
ALL shrunk and ALL fell
but as they fell
slithering like etheric slugs back to the caves of their creation
a wave of confusion swept over me,
no joy, in this victory,
no relief, no sense of pride.
instead, I lay, prostrate before the mountainous altar of a half stone remnant.
hands between my face and the earth
who gathered the salty lakes that dripped from my upturned palms
then again she entered
this time seemingly amused at my present state of hopelesness
a part of me wanted to make excuses, to explain away the
emptiness that had somehow defeated me through my own victory.
i wanted to hide my tears
but i did not
her presence however, forced me to become aware,
I ceased weeping and listened,
it was, as if, I could see myself through a lenz outside of my body
a way of perception (I mused) only SHE could grant.
oh sweet death!
the words rose up, entering my conciousness, not a statement born of me,
were they her words?
was I going mad?
and then she spoke
“it’s not like before” she said
“you can never win me,
am I a prize? am I a plaything for your senses?”
the question I realized was a tool for my awakening.
a koan, from the lips of my beloved.
what is it you seek? she asked
I, I don’t know, I…
I seek to love you,
to… know HOW, to love you.
she replied
“If you seek to love me
then what you seek is joy.
I can show you joy, but I cannot give you joy,
for my joy is a beast
she is my own beast, but I, do not OWN her
she is your beast as well,
she belongs to all.
she is a beast of 3 heads and nine legs
she will come whenever you call her
she’ll give you whatever you seek
but there’s a price to pay for her comfort…”
“what price?” I asked, “I NEED her”
then she said
“you must not play the games of humans
with her,
she dances on a stage ALL long to dance on,
but few do,
she does not do well with entertainment
for the sake of entertainment,
she is not a geenie in a bottle
she is FREE to give to any and all
or none”
her heart is born of your heart
from a flame.
the same flame that I possess
the one that burns through
the calousness of
your ritualized courting procedures.
there are no mechanistic actions that will win her,
she seeks your truth, as it is,
your reality, the bleeding fire of your very essence.
This is why you SEE me
now, in this state
in THIS state
we may all
dance together
on THIS stage
but hear my words
do not forget how you have arrived here
do not forget what states of being
brought you to this place
for, it is ONLY
through your continued remembrance
that we meet
play with her
this beast called joy
but only in remembrance
with the fire of your blood
with the tears of your essence.
through the eyes
of your open heart.”
and so she spoke
and so I knew, as I know now
the nature of my longing.

insides smile at what you’ve become.

shades brimming
a stake, for a grave
twirling the cane like a minstrel
the capsized question ponders
but reveals none
painstakingly you
fascinated by magnitude and depth
in-betweens opening
failure to appear
drums holler remedies
and dancers submit
a pleasure palace for transmutation
dim dimensions pulsating
for fathers
divine mother igniting
flames for christening
tears stream to open heart
my dark mother
silence reverberates
insides smile
at what you’ve become.