a mystic’s bed

Night lights

then I found myself
stepping on the mushy
nodes of matter
first cobblestones
then grass
finally the helical
steps of a cloud

it was no longer
vague intuition
but pure palpable
fact :

this is a dream

the arc of night
laid its arm
round my shoulder

both my eyes
puckered
to buss the black sky

there was love
dark and murmuring

my heart drunk
on the delirious flavor
of the stars

the straws of space
nested my body
and fell asleep
while the cars below
flashed in gushing fleets

Nihilistic Poetry Blog

granite sleep

Wholeness Sleep

 

unable to wake

I remained

behind the ruin of a memory

 

a Chinese serpent

swerving in the currents

of my dormant eyelids

 

nothingness was a province

where an obsidian pyramid

stood against a starless night

 

there in bed

roving like a raving raven

within the

delicate depths of darkness

 

surrounded by

a deep moat –

the dark waters

of space

swallowing any ray of light

that may cross over

to my dispossessed eyes

 

lone

existing alone

light as perishable infancy;

heavy as a bridge above years

 

a statue

untying itself

from its surface

of imitation

 

so I squandered the imported

bullion of dreams

and with quivering fascination

became empty and
bankrupt

of image

 

unable to wake

I surrendered

like

a history

written on the soft

tissue of the spirit –

never to be

read.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

 

today

Sun poetry

a found a mystic’s cloud
today

strange stream surfacing
motion maneuvering mirthfully

a found the tree under the shadow
objects reposing, the light untouched

today was so short
a flicker

as a beautiful face
turning the corner
never to be seen again

empty sand
in my hand
again

but at least
these shoes of ache
brushed by
the mystic’s lake

today.
 

Nihilistic Poetry

finger points

dream of rain

 

  because the wind grows my nails
I sit this evening
on the ledge of an ancient
mystery
the rain is the dream of the present
the noise of rock
of my bones –
penumbra is the rejoining of fragments
in this quiet atmosphere
speech is green grass returning
to the distant seed
because the wind has fed from
these thoughts of dimension
I am bottom
of the
           pendulum life

 

Modern Poetry

Joy of Participation

From the dark cloud
   that was my death before my birth
From the impervious past
   that is my womb
From nothingness void
   that sprung my being
      into this magnificent universe of light
 
As I awake
   from the caverns of dreams
My eyes visit
   a strange changing realm
Vision has kindled
   the torch of nature´s stage
 
Amongst crowds, streets and trees
   silent contemplation reveals
the daily world (of chats, smiles and meals)
   as mysterious as death and the galaxies;
on this planet
   repetition has blunt the miraculous
 
Frightening as it is
   this irrepressible human world
never to forget
   it belongs to a greater whole
Small is our size
   but great our joy of participation
       in this universe incomprehensible

The origin of inspiration

 
 
The eternal present.

Unfortunately, it is only a transitory condition I am sometimes blessed to experience. Far from being a permanent state in which I find myself, it is only in those divine moments when I’m totally centered and aware of all that surrounds me that I sigh, and stunned, silently pronounce my astonishment.I had such a moment today. Perhaps all too short since I started to describe it in words. I was traveling from my home to my work office. I’m lucky enough to pass every day through a mountain hill that allows me to view part of Costa Rica’s central valley in great depth. The view is breathtaking. Mesmerizing. It is enormous, the mountains, the slopes they produce and the great plains that support such monstrous pieces of rock. I wasn’t sitting near the closest window to such view. Between my eyes and that sight that I so highly revere was a row of bus seats and in one of them sat a young girl. Far from obstructing my view, it enhanced it. I could compare the magnitude of the geography I was musing with the size of a small human being. The result was that of making the sight even greater in size and significance, and my identity as a human smaller and humbler in feeling. It was there, the greatness, the majestic quality of this planet and it faded slowly as the bus rode down the hill and entering a nearby town. Now only a memory of it remains but the power by which it shook me still permeates my breath…