thoughts from underground

new leaf

2008-09-03T06:59:00.003-06:00

find the sky opening and drink - the words like rain on your tongue (find home in faith's hope); one note at a time, striking down - bolts of heaven [when you find me, write me open: new leaf. new leaf.]

what's there

2008-09-01T10:12:00.002-06:00

eaten out glory, crowning memories of the flesh, hollowed hallowed core, goried resplendent dreams of skin like pith in my mouth

the temper of angels

2008-08-29T07:16:00.003-06:00

in the silence of spirit find fire, fire rising - break open the temple doors
and rescue -
rescue the damned who spit you down while gorging on uprooted trunks
your home
birthing plenty with blood to show
the voice of angels in the mire
growling

sun find

2008-08-24T02:00:00.003-06:00

that lost glance lifts my spirit: rain washed from top to bottom.

get mail

2008-08-22T11:31:00.003-06:00

frantic tap of the damned: happen, dammit... something happen... to radically change the parameters... an unexpected call to anonymity, an invitation to disintegration, a flirtation with upturned reallocation... taunting promise of my erasure - disappearance and the howling expectancy of the call; disappearance and the howling expectancy of the call

rebirth

2008-08-21T20:13:00.005-06:00

exorcised demons
in the foreground -
ravished angels
caught in the
opening

(call my name)

unseen

2006-11-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

obscured light
memory's marker
smeared and stained

when you find me, look harder

entering again

2006-11-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

opened at the entry by lines of fire, the box of want deepens even as the love is put away.
(if joy passes, promise even then to honor it. it is alone too)

hasten the light

2006-04-05T15:02:00.000-06:00

the trace of memory beneath your fingers - places of endless capture, nights of distant footsteps, days of silent laughter: hasten the light; honor the pieces of yesterday and hasten the light

breath hue

2006-03-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

he's making it feel whole again - one thousand angel wings open in color, opened over in the memory of the shared breath which holds you.

heart stain

2006-03-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

"...don't dwell on what has passed away...the dove is never free..." (leonard cohen).

leftover light in the place of ringmarks, a single cup of tea sings volumes over evening's empty howl when lost spirits are found in words that are lit by the wings of entering angels. a sign of grace in the place of hands holding hands. a sign of color's stain in the rain of the hours. a sign of the perfect offering given over to erasure in the space of hearts. [but it won't go away].

life-fires

2006-03-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

the life in his eyes: an invitation to grace. with each strand of golden light across his face, the world is replenished. [the expectancy of faith on fire].

the faces of strangers

2006-03-14T23:32:00.000-07:00

and in the parting hour, memory is finally given back, given away, given up. and you have nothing left to show for it but this empty wish. wish empty, wish empty - hold up your broken bowl and wish. [the surge of anonymity in the faces of strangers].

simple things

2006-03-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

the bounty of simple things: whispers of 'yes' in the everyday. whispers of 'yes' in the everyday. the smile of sacred faiths locked deep inside each moment. [do not despair: you will be found].

returned to sender

2006-03-08T10:26:00.000-07:00

rising this morning with the weight of sixty six days on my shoulder i was defeated. the angel-warrior had pushed me down with the kind of indifference you dream of when nightmares come. in the light of sacred grace i swear i don’t understand it. or i do understand it, and that is what has made me weak this day. 'i can't.' 'i can't.' 'i can't.' and all at once i am made sick with terror – the terror of care pushed down in the space of one, the terror of human grace grown thin with age, the terror of empty gifts left unopened, made small, returned to sender. returned to sender. returned to sender. [i still dream of the light. do you?]

moon hymn

2006-03-06T07:56:00.000-07:00

as fate would have it, i saw him walk past my window last night. in my sleep, i dreamed of kindness until the sun set and left this world in all its rubble. in memory, i bled -- trails of sacred footprints in each tear, trails of friendship left wounded in ice. i have found the secret sun, a man of god in the folds of the rocks. and yet in the memory of uncut castles, i weep. in the justice which drowns compassion, i weep. in the pain that fills earth's opening with coal, i weep. [and in the moon's humming remainder, the man of god gently smiles and holds the opal in his hand, turning each occlusion to the light until the brilliance of human fire shines through the dust].

heaven's fire

2006-03-05T10:52:00.000-07:00

and even as the waters run dry, heaven's root grows like colorsets in the play of smiling suns, even as the darkness falls. be well even in the place of shadow: hold onto heaven's fire and be well.

breaking faith

2006-03-02T10:06:00.000-07:00

trust in the face of a wind that blows nails: the shattered pane of faith. will you hold your heart in the promise of care as they break you undone? (as they turn to tell one last lie, mourn; close your eyes and mourn).

the encounter

2006-03-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

color your world with presence, with presence. and when the lines overblend shades of light-with-dark, walk in that space. walk in that space and revel in the faces in the chaos. and on that day, you will have found the creator.

bending back

2006-02-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

going round the bend, back again almost to the start, round to the bottom, and then back up. hold on to the turn; hold on to the turn and be made whole in the flux of this day. you will come back up: you will come back up.

play of yes

2006-02-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

pulse open in the play of memory. hold open to the child's entry, for you are the door and she lives inside. (remember your home: it is in you).

[thank you to new friends for the gift of re-discovery: self-awakening in the memory of mercury].

birth wishes

2006-02-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

open yourself to the flame of encounter -- the feel of each and every thing alive with desire, the flow of raw expectation, and the fire of disclosure. (as each day unfolds its spark in the promise of being).

when it rains

2006-02-08T10:26:00.000-07:00

and here, in the fragile place of faith, we move, two-by-two. be near and it will hold open the world for you. be near and the world will hold you open. (follow the flow of 'yes' until tears are made dew drops).

small wonders

2006-02-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

unexpected delights in the palm of your hand: carry small wonders with you always. cherish each gift. cherish each gift and you will open your reach to the place of faith.

blinding wishes

2006-02-04T11:38:00.000-07:00

colorbreak from behind the blinded veil. just out of reach. i wish i could touch you again. (memories of light seeping in now still through the cracks of memory).

openings

2006-02-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

feel your way to the edge of darkness, and when you have felt its fringe, look up. wait for the skies to open. and when the light comes, you will be made whole again.

trust in an imperfect world

2006-02-02T08:03:00.000-07:00

there was a day when you were the archer, sure and strong, sure and strong. but in the awakening, you will have become the doe, mother of trust with blood on her tongue. know thyself, and you will have outrun the bleeding hole. perhaps one day the archer will forgive you. perhaps one day the archer will know you. perhaps one day the archer will become you. and then we can all stop running.

colorflow

2006-01-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

when you came through the gates this time, clarity had melted and all the world pulsed open before you. streams of colorflow, dripping. as if the universe were bleeding life and you were bleeding out in its beating flow -- bleeding out through a hole which you never before noticed, but of which you were the creator.

homecoming

2006-01-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

in darkness, even the brilliant reds are muted to shadow; even the shouts of yellow fall silent; even the majestic violets of heart and home are made a pale shade of grey. when i finally reach shore, i will bring many colors. my gift will be a gift of colors. meanwhile, wave to me as i go by.

on endings

2006-01-29T11:09:00.000-07:00

when his young son was sick, the father sat in ashes and cried, ripped his clothing and wept. he left his being behind and suffered through the uncertainties of shadow. day in, day out. the uncertainties of shadow, and the alluring -- if slim -- possibility of yes. when his son died, he finally rose from the ashes and returned to his being. he returned now even to the joys of living. for with his son, the possibility of yes was finally buried. and from the shadow of unknowing he could finally return to life. sometimes, the closing of a 'maybe it's yes' to a harsh, but clear, 'it's definitely no' can revive the spirit and open its space of breath. yesterday, i sustained the painful end to a 'maybe it's yes.' in the 'no,' i now return to life.

reflections in solitude

2006-01-28T19:09:00.000-07:00

kindness pours open a pool of light -- that sacred place where words and colors surge up even in the utter silence of grey. so sit, sit by your own reflection and put out your hand. If you are kind, someone will hold it. (be patient: some of the most beautiful souls are still finding their way to you).

carnage rising (holocaust memorial day)

2006-01-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

when human hearts become dispensable, we all descend to hell. this starts in your ice. it takes its root in your desire to be strong, strong, strong, little man, to be strong, strong, strong -- in your need to be invincible, superman, in your need to be invincible; know what I mean? (to the victims of this and every other human error: ascend; lose memory of their eyes, and ascend).

inside

2006-01-26T09:03:00.000-07:00

sometimes you are made to sit alone. so sit. sit in your tree with the fire and it will warm you. and if the universe is lucky, it will warm one or two others too.

when you're eleven...

2006-01-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

... sometimes you have wings

velvet encounter

2006-01-21T11:20:00.000-07:00

music and the feel of warmth
swirling colors of light
almost now like fingers

...and then i said...

2006-01-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

so, it turns out that sometimes the start of things is not always where they start. know what i mean?

care and the between

2006-01-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

"They show me to the door,
They say don't come back no more
'Cause I don't be like they'd like me to,
And I walk out on my own
A thousand miles from home
But I don't feel alone
'Cause I believe in you"
(Bob Dylan, "I believe in you", 1979)

dark flowers don't always speak away the sun. sometimes they invite it in. thank you for the sun.

friendship, refrigeration, and the sacred

2006-01-18T07:49:00.000-07:00

"…Even now a real decision is made [in me], whether [i] face the speech of god articulated to [me] in things and events – or [escape]. And a creative glance towards [my] fellow-creature can at times suffice for response" (Buber, Between Man and Man; Dialogue, p. 45).

thank you for leaving a watch in my refrigerator (!). it feels like friendship.

first things

2006-01-17T16:54:00.000-07:00

"...your life is not limited to that ungraspable inner streaming; it streams to the outside as well and opens itself incessantly to what flows out or surges forth towards it. The lasting vortex which constitutes you runs up against similar vortexes with which it forms a vast figure, animated by a measured agitation. Now to live signifies for you not only the flux and the fleeting play of light which are united in you, but the passage of warmth or of light from one being to another, from you to your fellow being or from your fellow being to you (even at the moment when you read in me the contagion of my fever which reaches you)..." (Georges Bataille, Inner Experience, p. 94)