we meet (haiku) 9/30/13

now at last we meet

to open to deeper means

to share what is so

Legacy * 9/29/13

Legacy is a face-to-face exchange.

There is spark-to-spark, flame-to-flame.

Everything else is storage and custodial,

possessions, ownership to prestige.

It is an energetic pay-it-forward enterprise.

Not quite the same as nostalgic memories,

more of the lighting of candles,

advancing in the shared spirit cathedral.

Yes, people, as passersby,

will take it to be the form.

But really, upon closer introspection,

it is the spirit of embodiment embraced.

The chi of the being ever passed forward

impregnated and transmuting the forms

that are sensitively assimilate and absorbed

as going forward being to being.

Anything else is reduced to trinkets,

gizmo, knickknack, doohickey,

thingamajig, obsessions of gaining wealth.

Ho hum, for the inheritance of stuff

in the afterglow from the legacy of spirit.

the weave (haiku) 9/28/13

the weave of meaning

provides as lucid backdrop

for sorrow’s journey

we went where we needed to go * 9/27/13

We went on a tour bus to the place where

we, as humans, are sanctuary.      

We took this cable car down into the mine

where we watched how sentient life

labors under the web weight of doing believing.      

We went to this institute 

to see how scientific minds 

squeezed the innards of commonness

out of all things.      

We then went to the theater of each other’s touch

to see how we form

as our own vessels’ receptors to physical contact.

We went to the daily newspaper 

and read up on how we mass together in passivity

as our own bloodless coup.      

We stood in front of a very large reflection

and saw how our confidence comes

out of the telling of history as memory would reframe.

We went to a potting kiln and reviewed

how to fire the brittleness of our contentions.      

We went to a very public place and noticed

all the benchmarks from the harvest

of our personal private collection of possessions.      

We went to a quiet place where we each gave 

reluctant breath to demonstrate our means

of minimizing our unending fascination with death.      

We went out into our rest homes

and watched how to stack up our used bodies

as if they were chronologs of our inner process.      

We left all our nouns at home

and went whore-dancing with the language of verbs.      

We gathered from the privacy of our minds

some lustful self-depictions

that we made into solemn yet savory denials.      

We all got on this ride in which we were swept up

into stall points of eventual submission.      

We then went to this banquet 

where we each acknowledged 

to our Judas-embarrassment

how easily apparent newness can settle in.      

We went to this festival 

where we each took turns 

privately weaving riddle-filled questions

that no one would otherwise dare to ask.      

Together we all stepped into the water

where there are rip currents of our own self-doubts.      

we forced ourselves to sequester in these rooms

until we were pent up with the rain-dance of desire      

and finally we each went to this inward place

where we blessedly took life-force

from the river of ourselves

poured into the cup of each other’s hearts.      

Then and only then, did we drink.      

We sipped, we dined, we drank

and we drowned.      

We became a dead ocean.      

We then leached ourselves from that sea.

Now, we are everything, that is truly sacred      

by not one of us, being spared . . .

we will (haiku) 9/26/13

the more we will grow

in many ways unknowable

until much later