• There were bundles of matter,

    to which form asked:

    “How are you doing in there?”.

    Harmonic bile oozed from cavernous pores. 

    There was dissonant freedom,

    a textural band shot through space, penetrating the membrane— waking, wake up, fast.

    Consonance.

    There was balance, not a state, but an act of real time.

    Behind the lids of closed eyes, standing.

    The rain convinces you that you are melting, liquefying.

    Panicked in an ocean of peace.

    Rising backwards, disintegrating.

    There was sensation in the empty elevator, where one's mass was so present, their bones tickled softly.

    A child at a fair, roller coasters left and right. Experimenting with sensation, pushing physical limits. 

    “Can we ride it again? One more time, please!”, The young Eros begs his Mother and Father.

    “We’re sorry, we’ve run out of tickets. It is time to go home, time to be bathed and tucked into bed.”

    There was night. Warmth. Darkness.

    Embraced in his bed by non-living material. 

    There is no end to this.

    Ringing echo, unanswered question.

    A gust of sound so eerie the cave itself perspires.

    Quivering earth.

    Lulling, droning, bodies of chant

    Produced by no all.

  • This consciousness shall guide me through Pandora’s landscapes.

    A thirst for life and a cup full of love, for pouring, will lie behind this face.

    Deeply, I long to hear and see the soul— any other mode of encounter is a blurred name, a miscarriage, a tragedy.

    I will mend this throat and mind together, finding the true body’s voice, in spite of winter’s barren silence.

    Tending to the wilting plants and breathing deeply within this furnace, I come to know

    There are spirits, gods, viewers, visitors.

    Remember your motives.

    Remember Death!

  • carbon wings releasing upwards

    allow, for death refreshes

    as tears soften

    you fly, 

    alone

    amidst the silence

    a heart hears its own name

    called upon 

    to step onto

    this living boulder 

    again and again

  • the spiritual emergency

    the karma

    I am being summoned to resolve

    is that of dissociation

  • I am looking into the archetypal patterns of this universe

    Into faces and spirits all around me

    Seeing from within, I recall their familiar nature

    Like ripples of song across her ocean body

    Ever-generating the mirage of change

    Heat rising in concentration

    From the belly of the heart

    I am pregnant with an inner eye

    Who knows a bodily truth

    Forget ideas

    Ideas are senseless

    Against this body of truth

    The only thing which ‘makes sense’

    Is the nakedness of the body

    In its authentic centering

    Extending the ultimate ‘This’

    Through the unity of peace, and peace alone

    For peace is capacity

    True Yin

    Giving, the ultimate receiving

    My ultimate fate lies within my heart

    Oh, heart of darkness

    The wet warm womb

    Fertility is so much more than you know

    Listen to the fertile seeds within yourself

    The visions of heart and spiritI am looking into the archetypal patterns of this universe

    Into faces and spirits all around me

    Seeing from within, I recall their familiar nature

    Like ripples of song across her ocean body

    Ever-generating the mirage of change

    Heat rising in concentration

    From the belly of the heart

    I am pregnant with an inner eye

    Who knows a bodily truth

    Forget ideas

    Ideas are senseless

    Against this body of truth

    The only thing which ‘makes sense’

    Is the nakedness of the body

    In its authentic centering

    Extending the ultimate ‘This’

    Through the unity of peace, and peace alone

    For peace is capacity

    True Yin

    Giving, the ultimate receiving

    My ultimate fate lies within my heart

    Oh, heart of darkness

    The wet warm womb

    Fertility is so much more than you know

    Listen to the fertile seeds within yourself

    The visions of heart and spirit

  • It takes strength to love this much

    It is love whom asks us to stretch our capacities

    This is the language of change

    The language of change is love

    A heart meditating in motion

    The magic within the wedding of two opposites

    In the unison of work and non-work

    In the nothingness of the doing

    In the offering of nothingness 

    cloaked

    as love

  • I shake with these leaves upon the branches

    the emotional body, this body

    listening, hearing

    alongside this mortal heart,

    beating.

    beating,

    the translucence of life

    clearly: here

    time: essential

    mesmerized by the pirouetting hands of my own clock

    a gaze unempty,

    fragile waters held within these eyes

    beholding

    here body

    here body

    bodyspeak

    sound