Poetry for Scientists
------------------------------- Natural Numbers 1/21/08 There is a natural count: none. one, more than one. Period. Naming's unnatural, man made. Numeration is unnatural: how many stars in the sky? how many grains of sand on the beach? How can we compound your interest? ******* The Origin of Wind 10/12/07 Wind is the wake of space. Shadows of clouds rustle the tree tops. Their dark underbellies echo in the branches. The wind brings wisdom, realization, an encounter with knowledge. It spills out of a hole in the tapestry of these woods and sky: time is the origin of wind. It's the wake of space emerging. It effervesces at the edge of our uncertainty. The sound of the ferment? Shadows. ******* Everything in Its Place 1/1/06 A silver glazed forest: every needle, limb, and twig is underlined. A graphite sketch leaving more to the imagination than it pencils in. Woven into the farthest view, the winter etches unnamed images onto a frozen landscape. The white silence is broken by barking dogs. Wheels are spinning in the distance. Everything has a secret meaning far from our understanding. White, weighted and sagging evergreens defy the season and carry beauty forward, burdens the maples know little of. While gathering dry oak, we burn with ceaseless fiery love. ******* Our string biology is joy. ******* 10/10/04 Big Bang? The universes opened quietly, both flower and pollen. ******* 9/13/13 A snake tries to slither back into its skin. A bird tries to squeeze back into its shell. A hermit crab trying to go home again. Cocoons irreversible. We evolve to become involved. A one way valve. ******** Oneness 1982 They love as one, as one in twain. All essence shared, though two remain. Two, distinct, division none. Number in love? Only one. ******* I can't get a checkout clerk to acknowledge me, yet my dvd says hello and goodbye. ******* November 1981 The more fragmented we become from nature, the more dramatic the lessons of wholeness. The further we are out of balance, the more extreme the counterweight will be. ******* 12/4/11 Although reason reasons that its reasoning is sound, where could more lies be found? ******* 10/5/12 All creatures have zero and one in common. Zero, the complete origin. And one, the individual expression of zero. And vice versa: one, the complete origin, and zero the individual expression of one. ******* 11/3/12 There are those who cast no shadows. When light shines upon them more light grows. ******* |
Poems from the Heart
------------------------------- Wavicles 7/4/13 Is the universe inhaling or exhaling? A draw or a push? Are we wrapped up in one big breath, an infinute lung of boundless expansion? Or a spiral, a spring that breathes and breathes throughout, driving the cosmos. A loosening and tightening of torque; compression and expansion, a celestial Slinky. When up, our mortal coil, with no more spring and no more torque, we breathe and straighten out, breathe and straighten out... to coil yet once again. ******* 2/13/05 The world view grows larger and larger every day, but I remain infinitely small. Since the beginning, I've taken up heavy ideas that weigh little in the end. I lean on bodies of knowledge to support me. What is it we came here to gather, to give? Does a certain amount of good learnen land us a place in heaven? Are we really supposed to answer for ourselves there? I was hoping to ask the questions. ******* Bandits 7/18/13 If Buddha was from Boise and Jesus was from Jersey, there might still be Indigenous People out on the plains. If Mohammed was from Montana, we might have become the middle east, but in a good way. These bandits came to steal from the masses. Not hiding behind a mask or the dark of night, they stole away fear, ignorance, hatred, vengeance. Teaching bandits, they came with the possibility of peace. There are many more just like them, from the east, west, in between. If Moses lived in Miami or Vegas, or Hollywood, he would have stolen too: the bandit of fear and confusion. Ruthless thieves! They would steal your heart right out of your chest. ******* 1/3/05 There's a well from which everything emerges, and when it is spent, everything is still left. ******* Inside Inside 2003 I wrap around you wrap around me. From a far off place within me-- no one, nothing closer-- we reach and touch without moving. You vibrate me into place shaking off the mortal coil. I'm not playing with words to make poetry. It's just the plain truth wrapped fancy. ******* Prayer 10/29/03 We try to throw kisses, but don't know where to place them. Elusive lover that only speaks in whispers out of sight, why refuse what we return? Your gifts are hints and insinuations, flirting your existence. So we throw questions, wishes, ourselves, and love you for that alone. Invisible mark so we couldn't miss you... refuse our affections for all time. ******* 8/15/04 Follow the light they said. We did. Who illuminates it? We asked. One can't be too careful you know. A thousand lights! ******* True 2004 Everything has been said. That being said, it can't be spoken. We eat our words and become hungrier. Eat on the inside. ******* 12/3/04 It isn't a matter of being worthy, it's a matter of being thankful. Thankful to be tolerated this long, to recognize that gift, that grace, Like driving in your car with the wipers on. One moment clear, the next fuzzy. Just like that we get self-realized and unrealized. ******* 10/26/04 I imagined everyone laughing in America. My boss, your boss, all the kids, laughing in America. Priests and orphans, farmers and lawyers, all, every one of us, laughing in America. ******* 8/28/04 Practice being kind as the sun: shine on and grow everything. ******* |
Observations
------------------------------- Existence in the Making The shape of a spiral suggests continual cause, the place where the circle breaks away from itself, an experiment, an adventure, somewhere else to go. Will it eventually meet itself again forming a fancy circle? Are spirals consorting with strings? ...just a theory... What I really want to know is: what is that around which it spirals? This aperture is the sweet honey of light, sound and being. The invisible ongoing creative gesture that declares all to be, yet holding to its center.... That journey pierces the moment of this life. This breath paces the movement of this moment. ******* Of the Mountain July 15, 1984 Where is the source of the mountain stream? In the steady drip of glaciers, in the constant rain and snow? Or the sky from which they came, or the sea to where they grow.? The stream flows as a circle, the source moves right along. The desire is attraction. Water is never wrong. ******* Weary weary candles; empty limp shrouds under the forest cathedral. A fiery moon slowly finds its way here. Eerie eerie... in the match light. ******* The Beast October 22, 1982 In the darkness of a chilly night. the beast need not hide. Skulking menace, plague of malignant fruit... Just when we think we're safe, we're safe. But it whispers and distracts. Wrestle it into the daylight, and watch it run. ******* 1984 Whisper, speak softly, refuse to throw words out. Save all of them if you can. Put together in the right way, they may mean something some day. ******* Blinding Blizzard of Love November 18, 1983 My family's a volcano ready to explode. No, it's a landslide letting go. No, more like a flood, a sandstorm, an earthquake, a real disaster no matter how you look at it. It's a forest fire out of control, it's lightning and thunder. It's bad weather. What keeps us going back? Chemistry. ******* Last Train Home August 16, 1987 The tracks taper in both directions into the night's mist. The solid sound of stones crunch beneath my feet. In the dark station silence the oily metallic sweat of rails and ties lingers as memory's perfume. Coupled and broken hearts can be felt here, seen still. Here time is a relay switch that opens and closes tracks to love. Trains stop then disappear through the tiniest point in the distance. As tears flood the station, I taste the salt of the past, waiting for the last train home. ******* August 1, 1982 Fool's gold lays the true vein to waste. Time runs out in foolish haste. Untapped truth is unseen light, that lends its blindness to the night. ******* Birthday Poem June 5, 1985 In a fake world there's nothing inside the forms. Like a box wrapped tidy, but no present. In a real world there are insides, and inside that, a presence. I wrap your gift.. ******* A navel pressed into the ground will root. ******* We are Verbs Subjects and predicates rip people in two. Can you dissect a person from what they do? ******* Secret Values June 23, 1984 I look but don't see. They speak, but I don't understand. Lost in the crowd I wonder what I should be doing. So serious, I miss the purpose, yet laugh when they laugh. Our rituals hold no meaning for me. I just show up. ******* |