Saturday, July 29, 2017

I live my life in growing orbits


I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of the world.
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.

I am circling around God, around the ancient tower
and have been circling for a thousand years
and I still do not know if I am a falcon, a storm
or a great song.


–Rainer Maria Rilke
The Book of Hours, excerpt
Robert Bly translation


Friday, July 28, 2017




The God who is intelligible to man is made by man himself,
but what is beyond his intelligence is the reality.

—Hazrat Inayat Khan

wait - what?
Shoayb Khattab,
Liwa deserts Abu Dhabi


Sunday, July 23, 2017

journey of the breath


Of the two spoiled, barn-sour geldings
we owned that year, it was Red—
skittish and prone to explode
even at fourteen years—who'd let me
hold my face to his own: the massive labyrinthine
caverns of the nostrils, the broad plain
up the head to the eyes.
He'd let me stroke
his coarse chin whiskers and take
his soft meaty underlip
in my hands, press my man's carnivorous
kiss to his grass-nipping under half of one,

just so that I could smell
the long way his breath had come from the rain
and the sun, the lungs and the heart,
from a world that meant no harm. 

–Robert Wrigley
Kissing a Horse


Friday, July 21, 2017

summer plain, excerpt


We have seen so much.

Reality has almost used us up ...

–Tomas Tranströmer
Windows and Stones


Thursday, July 20, 2017

Description Without Place


In a description hollowed out of hollow-bright,
The artificer of subjects still half night.

It matters, because everything we say
Of the past is description without place, a cast

Of the imagination, made in sounds;
And because what we say of the future must portend,

Be alive with its own seemings, seeming to be
Like rubies reddened by rubies reddening.

–Wallace Stevens
closing lines to section V


say i am you



Your body is away from me, but there is a window open
from my Heart to yours.
From this window, like the moon,
I keep sending news secretly.



Wednesday, July 19, 2017

one rule


The sky
Is a suspended blue ocean.
The stars are the fish
That swim.

The planets are the white whales
I sometimes hitch a ride on,
And the sun and all light
Have forever fused themselves
Into my heart and upon
My skin.

There is only one rule
On this Wild Playground,
For every sign Hafiz has ever seen
Reads the same.

They all say,
"Have fun, my dear; my dear, have fun,
In the Beloved's Divine

O, in the Beloved's
Wonderful Game."

Daniel Ladinsky version


Tuesday, July 18, 2017



When you are out walking in the sunlight,
see the love covering all.



Spring, and everything outside is growing,
even the tall cypress tree.
We must not leave this place.
Around the lip of the cup we share, these words,
"My Life Is Not Mine."

If someone were to play music, it would
have to be very sweet.
We're drinking wine, but not through lips.
We're sleeping it off, but not in bed.

Rub the cup across your forehead.
This day outside is living and dying.
Give up wanting what other people have.
That way you're safe.
"Where, where can I be safe?" you ask.

This is not a day for asking questions,
not a day on any calendar.
This day is conscious of itself.
This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness,
more manifest than saying can say.

Thoughts take form with words,
but this daylight is beyond and before
thinking and imagining. 
Those two, they are so thirsty, but this gives
to water. 
Their mouths are dry, and they are tired.

The rest of this poem is too blurry
for them to read.

Coleman Barks version


Wednesday, July 12, 2017

not to worry


Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream.

—Jack Kerouac


Thursday, July 6, 2017

Friday I tasted life


Friday I tasted life.
It was a vast morsel. 
A Circus passed the house —-
still I feel the red in my mind though the drums are out. 
The Lawn is full of south and the odors tangle,
and I hear to-day for the first time
the river in the tree.

–Emily Dickinson


Tuesday, July 4, 2017



If you expect any benefits from your search, material, mental or spiritual, you have missed the point. 
Truth gives no advantage. It gives no higher status, no power over others; all you get is truth and freedom from the false.

–Nisargadatta Maharaj


smallest word


Of all that God has shown me
I can speak just the smallest word,

Not more than a honey bee
Takes on his foot
From an overspilling jar.

–Mechtild of Magdeburg
Jane Hirshfield translation
Women in Praise of the Sacred


Monday, July 3, 2017

bees )


You voluble, Velvety Vehement fellows
That play on your Flying and Musical cellos,
All goldenly Girdled you Serenade clover,
Each artist in Bass but a Bibulous rover!

You passionate, Powdery Pastoral bandits,
Who gave you your Roaming and Rollicking mandates?
Come out of my Foxglove; come Out of my roses
You bees with the Plushy and Plausible noses!

–Norman Rowland Gale