Here, a poem: [abridged]

cracking voice of “us”-
Dissonance springs from
Making a mistake
Act I: Finale
wake up
love, the ability to:
Time: N/A
words form wilderness
wordless world- meaning
born by void in brain-
storm- avoid no
seeds sew heart-cloth -
remember home- no where
is water lily self-
home is crow, crane-
the creature home


_/ Here, a poem: \_

_/ Playing music:


joy/pain/strangeitude of “me”

into melody/harmony/cracking voice of “us”-

Dissonance springs from “why”

And “Hallelujah” \_

_/ Making a mistake in front of someone:

in front of all

the world, a stage




Act I: Finale

"This Is No Rehearsal" \_

_/ Doubting- Questioning- Unsure of- my actions:

I can wake up

I can come to

better understand

my intentions- \_

_/ This poem, writing-

love, the ability to:

Time: N/A \_

_/ 4 pm \_

_/ “Undertow” \_

_/ Writing a poem, reading this and that: \_

_/ find words form wilderness

in wordless world- meaning

borne of restless void in brain-

storm- avoid no weather

patterns repeat patterns

repeat patterns reap-

seeds sewn to heart-cloth like water lilies float-

remember home- get rid of no where \_

_/ pause- \_  _/ home is water lily self-

home is crow, crane, ghost, plant- \_

_/ above all other ‘above all else’s’, \_

_/ above all else, befriend \_

_/ the creature home \_

_/ you call your self- \_

whatever all this

if anything




River Street

Had I that day alone–

that day to have not

known you, then,

I would’ve rolled

along that old


road-more-like a



I would have

two-wheel rolled

a– long– with– fre– quent–

bumps, but on the wood

I would have rolled along

without a fall– (ing for-

ward)––– toward the rush

of River Street where I grew

up when I stepped outside

the thick flat ladder crosswalk lines.

I grew when I learned that lines

and motion are what define…

I followed invisible tracks

through Michigan snow,

dragging feet to make lines

to make a new road to make

a new world to do ––– something–––

with my self.

Up and down I grew when

I cycled up River Street and

stopped down by the

wooden river path,

the path right by the river.

I was that day alone

It was that day I learned

I know and

I know

and I know you

and I

not quite.


scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
let all of who you are
love this water
because you are you
because water is water

big water
big heart
too much to hold
no need to

this love
in each drop of water
falling from your hands
returns to its vast oceanness

scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
now hold this love
now give it all away
because you are not you
because water is not water

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Rumi (via fuckyeahrumi)

(via nervesplice)

life rumi 



“I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside.” 

― Rumi



This is probably the best thing I’ve seen on the internet ever.

(Source: chotpot, via leviathanhunterlee)


Why I Treasure Monday Evenings

Buddham saranam gacchami

hank is not a person
hank is anyone
and everyone is already

sitting with you all
all is only what it is
and all of what is this

Dhammam saranam gacchami

reciting a reading
mind can read too much
into the meaning
and forget that i
know it by heart

sitting with you
helps me recall
the heart

Sangham saranam gacchami

with this sangha
i can safely settle
into something i know
i know nothing about

i can trust that
just to be with this
will be enough

and it is

to the rain!

underneath this
coat of silver -
this medieval contraption -
self - conscious self -
i am soft as the air
around a lightbulb
in a forest
by ancient owls
who have
no necks
and wise birch
trees that drink
to water! to dirt!
to life! i remember again
how to laugh at the
constant hum
of my metallic mind -
how to listen to
the hymn of
rain that drops
out of nowhere
and dots my
somewhere roof
with -
with -

It’s cloudy - I can’t see
the stars tonight. But I need
a constellation. I’m selfish.
Where did my stars go?
Wow, dumbstruck me,
notices that what I thought
all of this was isn’t it, at all…
it’s fading into…? You’re confusing yourself! You talk too much. Look!
Listen! Judgments, extra. This poem, extra. Just,… just what? That’s it!
Shouldn’t it be simple?
Should it?
It’s cloudy and hard to see.

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