we venerated gods
we venerated the One
tear up your
livelihood
from the roots, the
money tree you watered
with scraped nickels
and dimes
the storms and the
aftermath
the incessant building
and leveling
galaxies on fire
life, this breath
are enough to take you
through
are sufficient, dayenu
I don’t know how it all began
A flash of lightning in pond-pocked lands
In an ocean floating like a child in a womb
Biomolecules woven on a nucleotide loom
Maybe there is nothing magical mystical or holy
Undone when it is done, in a future no one is controlling
And the Universe will leave no trail of love, hate, no mist
No bones, no trace, no record written like this
But, maybe there is some cause, that itself is also its own
That sees what is seen as it knows what is known
All of this occurring in an instant the same
As consciousness is conscious, speech speaks its own name
And here is my belief, or hope or faith
Because that’s the way I roll
Raised without much notion of a God
I found It in a furious hole
Saw a light or a dark or rainbow, or a grey
Chased it all down through the years
I cannot prove it beyond my own heart
But it’s empirical to me – it’s a miracle I’m here
all these arachnaic fables
sticky, stringy, text woven round
globules of encased enchantment
creation myths, tragedies, dramas, tragicomedies, epics
a world of spoken and subliminal messages
meanings meander streams of knowing
we sit in silence, where you can hear an awful lot
of what arises in the moment, unheeded by most
spider insider boasts news of the now
holy cow, a Universe in a dusty corner
of the ceiling of a dream, whispers all that may be
listen...
the past flows through the present to beyond
fields where we may meet or fail to
in futures uncertain that pale to
the woozily unstructured story of here and wow
all you have dreamed and been driven to do
libraries without copyright
free as the sky
sharing of documents
between sympathetic minds
knowledge and wisdom
become one and the same
the names of all things
and the thing without name
Whoever transforms himself, transforms the world.
I
the baby knows
when it is the mother who is
holding it
half conscious of this
world
one inner eye
straining back
peering into the world
it came from
II
nothing was the same
no one was to blame
I must have been
the seal was broken
the vow, the bond
oxytocin, to be replaced
by glucose and orgasm
III
life is dis connection
non-intersection
the simplest things --
vexed
seeking outward
like some crazed fly
or an addict in a
sober sky
something I cannot
find
even after I find her,
hear her voice
IV
the inner
is the August
of summer
beyond the bummer of
all
that could go wrong,
that did –
a new kind of song
I shouldn't care, b/c
whoever else needed to
be,
I am here
the cloister of breathing
the only thing
