23.2.18

i bathe in your every expression
devour
your salted words
and adorn my hips
in your mounted position

so
please
carry me to shore
where I can
inscribe the sands
and run my hands
down
where we belong

HS
flood my seas

my currents; surge

swell my peaks

my banks; crest

the movement
of you
always
seems
to

uprise my tide

HS
In this scene you crawl like a spider trying to catch the wind
snow perplexed by a blue sky
while branches shake from the weight of it
your sense of direction is abandoned
into the once puzzling provincialism
to exhibit resonanting partially
they only cover their mistakes
by swimming even more seductively toward you
you become the subtlest of superfluous
as your daily thought and feeling grow fleeting
and infinitely self-perpetuating and impossibly more resilient
ready to alight on steepled sand in lamplight
even though you live by the sea
you no longer dream of fragile roads
on islands of mythical syntaxes
you still climb two sets of stairs but have blurred them
if anything goes amiss you resort to the simple design
of standing in bright light unthreading far flung ideas
until the letters run from your skin
Sometimes they feel like separate grains of sand
of clouds pulled to earth sifting to the center
blending peacefully finally in their own relation
while along some horizons light shines from distant hills dreamt
along others this or that mythic shell complicit with their desire
thinks to wear a mask soaked in the rays of their eyes
of scattering uncanny fingerprints to unreal skirmishes
clearing the way for a more or less ruthless actual history
of misunderstanding these lands that climb upwards with the smoke
from the result of an instant sending signals how a new story
and its recipients bend each others bodies off the ground
outside the book bathed in blind light and love
new hands at all hours pages turning at all hours
upending your whisper rhythmic and turning forth
behind the breeze on your ear on your throat
an unworked mass of visionaries
bent back slowly like a sapling filled heavy with faith
kneeling only where faces find comfort
in the wall that unhinges impassioned where wisdom stirs
you can surrender devoted to the ritual
or you can integrate this fire and become a vital sorcerer; remain unknown

HS

16.2.18

he would have carried me in color; dead or alive
his abstract awareness has seized its significance
the high waves shattering the windows of my palace
yet we speak no thoughts
left by a silence
by the blue echo of intimacy lost
the light
inscribed to study the back of his eyes
which have commanded
I am the sole delegate of my form
the embodiment individualized
vanishing is both sensual and continual

*

I found the sea
casting my structure
rising elegantly
waveless as it speaks

HS

15.2.18

how many times
have you found me
casing your walls
of protection

if you counted by tens
it would amount
to the totality
of deaths
under these hands

HS

9.1.18

an appearance of spirit and a glass of fire
illusion flashing
lingering
devilry in my reflection
an atmospheric emergence
flood of breath
glancing over
in the midst of knowing
measuring the depth
of your lure

a short-lived memory

i once knew a man with the stars sung onto his soul
galloping fathomless
where core became soul
a magician
he recollected the times
form had failed

therefore
i spoke in silence
inquisitive

*

don't wait too long
you can embark on
for the love here lies
with another kind

HS

4.1.18

it wasn't so much a beginning
as it was an ending

the convergence
butterflies landing
shapeshifting conception
charmer
diviner
bewitch her
watch the wild sorcerer rise
watch the stone women dance
witness the birth of a God

all in a nights time

HS

31.12.17

there are many times
i would have liked to say i love you
yet the world keeps spinning
and i can not
Continue

what stops me
but my own stumbling
of being ashamed
as I am nothing
more than a mere reason
Placed
at your feet

HS

29.12.17

i've gathered my beloved
affairs; in unorthodox direction
magicians; my knees
djinn following closely
lovers
ripe with pomegranates
here, hold my stars
while I take another bite
of his delectable sword

HS

In the rose garden
where I drink my tea
the plants sing
the sky creates streams
light cast shadow
darkness never misses a beet

HS

28.10.17

clouds burst
heavy dew
wetness
on my lips

liquid sunshine
fall mist
condensation
on my chest

HS

i can taste 
the moon
cold crater 
of you



HS

23.10.17

At dusk I can see myself alive
In your pupils
Floating inside the blue bands
The little piece of sky you keep hidden
As I take in your skin...your neck
Smells like the moisture on a dirt floor
After you carry the embers of this city
Under my covers
I unravel into a a million honest pieces
Watching you come towards me
because your nights climb my spine
and this bed is too big
For the rope that we wind

HS

16.10.17

with my head in the ground
i listen to the
movement; the dark 
i need my conscious
to feel the way you lie  
beside me 
recessed by waves
(grey)
bound by glass 
(stone)
dignity  
i am the sea
capable of leaving
and instead choosing 
to be 

our breath of a gem
unmentionable
sweetened 
delicacy

closely 
i mind you
in the obscurity of protection 
i see the lover on your knees
i see the nectar hidden in your cheeks
i see the placement of your eyelids
that keep me safely
in positions reach  

arched 
hold me 
in the sky
heavens made of reason
undeniable
your aim  
   elegance is in the weak   


*  

your footing
captured 
my eyes
intwined
the tie between us
entangled
fastened to the other 
under obligation
of nothing
neither of us

resolve 
take
another
look
  
this will 
not become
until
you and me
catch each other
come further near
place yourself
within 
my nature 


*

HS 

8.10.17

i have learned to piece debris from whatever washes ashore to build driftwood and rocks into intricate gardens there are times i cry and sink roots although keeping my eyes close i am pragmatic and adept sacrificing that which rubs to snip away at these tangled love knots where new growth can flourish stretching from old scars i am surprised by the volunteer who suddenly appeared disrupting my orderly planting bed blooming his heart out

HS

4.10.17


when you look at me

stars erupt 
wind blown
a kingdom is built
larks frame 
mountains sway
shiver
tremor
stagger
heart batter

 be still. be calm.


HS

22.9.17

i speak once of steeping feet in the seven seas
of illuminating them there to oceanic
to create sheets of white luminous
so that their bodies will become edible
submerged in effervescent brilliance
make it so and skin turns a new
softening as you seep slowly in
as cells remember i forgive
so that we now immerse ourselves
apathy has nowhere else to sit
it will never requiem he repeats
though he still doesnt know
i often hear the same declaration
reversing in anothers simplicity
to luminescence my light...mirrored
as always breathing in his glare
i find my love transitioning clouds
waist deep in his inane
i vanish across blue fields
meandering the world
straying on the limniads edge
returning some times in time
for a door aching wide in the sky
and the moon setting free
played perfectly
in the neighbours tree
suddenly remembering
just how it all could be

8.9.17

My father walked me down to las posadas one calm winter night.
The fog was thick
And unable to see the stars
I quietly followed in.
Out of the duskiness
Appeared the familar
White lace shoulders and
Flickering lights.
Hands cusped in between ribs
Black hair settled on their backs
Tightly woven in a knot.
I remember the connection to our mother
Was stronger there than anywhere I had ever felt.
La Nuestra Senoras eyes gazed deeply around us
Against the dark nights
Their soft smiles
Gracious and enchanting
Hearty hearts of steel
I knew these people as
Warm
Willing
Weathered
By the storms of being dissipated
Blown into the winds of terror
A false divergence that made them illuminate ablaze
In contrast to the conservation of whiteness.

My grandmothers neighbor would come by
with a bag of tamales every so often.
Mass was held in the backyard
And I'd sit under the orange tree so that I could hear them speak in languages formed out of feelings
Sometimes they'd weep
Hold each others hands
in the lap of the other
Head draped on the families shoulder
There was a willingness
to carry the others heart
down to the river
and let it go.
Knowing that the same love
will always be carried within.
Even when we have lost sight of one another.

Snake skin and oiled hands
Chicano. Dark lips.
Chipped paint.
Earth scent ingrained.
Rough around the eyes
I still see her in each and every
Holy One I continue by.

Ella siempre sera mi luz en la oscuridad.

HS

1.9.17

I once heard a story of a girl who found her heart was placed so far from where she had left it. It seemed as though it had been picked up and carried to the farthest reaches of this earth where no one not just anyone would ever come across it. Here she was called following the eyes of someone elses light. Someone she could not reach. And here she found her heart in the hands of an undeniable belief.

29.8.17

 to the girl that welds in amber

 you are a love to be reckoned with
 a heart saturated with outspoken desires

 moonstruck

 on a belief of remembrance

 conceived in the coals

 validated by your ubiquity

 distributing itself

 here...
 and there

 broken up like a dream that was meant to be lived

 every moment has been marked by you

 every moment
 harnessed

 to take a step forward

 feel her
 winded

 death stays close
 while she sympathizes with the devil
 the way the world melts around her
 they bend into another
 his muscles still soften
 as she carries herself
 gracefully tied up in knots

 ***

 secured with luster
 reduced to embers
 set in fire

 continuously
 radiant
 midpoint

 eternally
 transmitting her story
 in the palm of my hand
I found your heart on the sidewalk early this morning
Dripping in the sweetest dew
I could not contain my excitement
For what a treasure to encompass
My own pleasure with


HS

30.5.17

levitate over the torso
induce the confusion like
asphyxiate
reciprocate

love for loves sake

conversations filtered like sand
stare;
analyze the eyes
don't just look
muse

try to figure out
why im the first one
discovered
at the end of every night

platform of love
I pull myself away from the edge

29.5.17

Tonight I want nothing more than to
slide beneath your hands
in this timeless universe
to smell your love upon my skin
while the ghostly hills pass
still waking at midnight
walking behind

15.1.08

These things possible to have been said
I've uncurled in a swallowed sound
as I am of you and slightly the other

my name follows the shadow of yours
meanwhile she
catches shade in a valley of bees

we are meant to move forward without each other
but lacking little light i turn and hide

you have worn many names and faces, sir
to say you are undisciplined is a love of lies
your expectation wavers with the sky turning
what they all worked hard for stops

night mountains, a sharp silence

no longer a child
orphan, stoic, doctor, sir

firstborn
first abroad
first lost

as a child, he spoke as a child

abba
aboji

distance is relative, hinged
joints bend where other spaces would break
forced into a posture
object
stars move slowly across his face

this is now something recognized in my eyes

I am to say
who was but until the present never could be

I see and hear everything
I see and hear you

speak as simply as you can
without fire these words nearly sleep
the distance between

a shade platform
a hindered announcement
faces fanning in the heat

louder than the eyes having it
louder than the deer giving up its secrets on the tree

quietly we crawl under our covers
the house stands still after hours of unrest
delicate as folding screens these turns burn our faces

we will hear and we will see but we will not speak

broad light of day is a hard release
dark ambient mover
destiny holds swirling gates ajar
swallowed in the thousand flight
sun walkers collecting miracle sound engines a storm

lacking necessary endings
mystery transforms night into illusion
familiar object outland delivers

sight objects unearthing sound


na
nabi
nun
white
what lies


lost as a child
I spoke
sighted in the scrim and flash...
I sway

--

26.9.07

Is this life the tune of his human hands shake
as they play out the rhythms on his shoulders
in a refrain that comes to nothing more
than the drumming of grand architecture
to the straight on stare of strangers and friends
which melt our story with what now becomes
a man that is buried from within
by the sweet tremble of his hands excused
in order to show his capacity
to feel beyond the present.

For continuum weighs sympathy.

There is no deviation in the baring of these days
that calm this man to the descent of what I so desire.

13.8.07

i.
Heading south people change and it seems, by degrees
imperceptible over decades. In this place
the small 'i' looks into flight theory
for a bird out of season. Life as a rule
consists of evidence, the gentle breeze
or the gale force, it leans on faith
towards chance with the family,
the friends & the lovers you take
a shine to. A belief that obscene amounts
of change alarms, if the people
you love will only change with you.
But the saddest day is the one
where you find you've changed too
much and us not nearly enough.

ii.
Wing stretches while this log fire burns, all through
a sleepless stretch of evening.
The small 'i' re-working words
is hemp loose, as ideas fall
with passions onto paper.
At 4 a.m. body exhausted, walking
outside holding another.
Plumes tickle and rise in the head,
drift from the hand and the mouth.
Theres a mounting chipper of birds all
about, they rustle and stir in the bush
behind. Drawn closer, no doubt
by the sweet stench that floats
thick, in Kanimblas subzero air.

iii.
Air spirals as it is the vertigo and the wind
that gets me, holds me reticent
just one step away from the edge.
From the top of this plateau,
its a sheer drop into silence and
the cavernous mystery beneath.
The valley is fluted in layers of mist,
a scene stealer for the tourist and
the small 'i' alone on the stone
ledge of so vast an expanse.
Catching wits and breath,
I recall a friend having said that
a mountaineer once
saw god on K2s summit.

iv.
Weightless flight theres experience in that possibility,
in that solitary view of the infinite.
Precipitation clears from the valley
as birds and bird song wing
through the sunfiltered clouds.
And just beyond the falls
two iridescent rainbows form
the perfect tricolour arcs.
The sky is winter blue and enormous.
The small 'i' subdued, watches day
pass and the sun shine on the valley.
Consider how easy the choice
to take one step out and glide
weightless on air currents really is.

v.
Tail feathers and vegetation grow lush all the way
down through the pathway.
The legs wind the slim web of road
until it flattens out into brush country.
Horses graze close to the Tea Rooms
where theres hot food and a fire.
This valley less up close
less imposing than the view
from the top plateau suggests.
On the way back up echoes
of parrots and lyre.
The weather ominous as feathers
float with the snowfall when birds
lift from the trees and are gone.


vi.
Skyways in the old adobe home fire
warms flesh while the heart
beats slow and the small 'i' wonders
'where exactly in this anatomy
do wings fit?' In the cerebellum,
which itself feels nothing
synapses spark and push
memorys sharp edges
into tissue of the heart
or the head with no reply.
It makes no difference, what
the small 'i' decides - as just
because they can, birds will
stretch out their wings and fly.

--
what can
unsteady a person
bring her falling
into the deepest sky?
she swims
inside dreaming
lets go
of possibility
makes dizzy the first
bone-dry second
then blue surrounds…

*

her eyes let go
of every surface
resemble
every weather
she is everywhere

7.8.07

We will change the music for you. It will look like a field of buttercups, and sound like dinnertime.

29.7.07

a six-inch patch of life redemption

19.7.07

Si lo que has encontrado
Fue formado por materia pura
Nunca se pudrirá
Y tu puedes volver un día
Si fue solo un momento de luz
Como la explosión de una estrella
No encontraras nada cuando regreses
Pero habrás visto una explosión de luz.
Y esto solo ya habrá valido la pena
PC
quiver beneath
thirty four fingers
in-others entering
through-an excuse
for constant-
delusion

HS

there may be dedications
determined by the disciplinary music
of a looming storm
but what kind of day means
another melodious shift
ive been training my left arm to glimmer
and am already accustomed
to the heat of the forge
yet as for flames i head in all directions
of yellow turning
orange turning
away my gaze
and the watery foundations

but love,
if you were a globe,
i could place a finger
match equator to longitude
then gather the topography
into a fistful of embers

you might have brought the other motion with you
maybe you did draw three broad Xs across our earth

i might have touched fingertip to fingertip
climbed the hill 
and surprised the city

but now
this junction still exists
Language is the place of the mind
as Space is the place of the body.

Hair dripping, as it were, south, while the ice-blue
inside of your mouth hisses letters through the rain.

To speak is to desire. So the gods judge.

The heart, an organ of fire. my fruit.
The soul, nail-bed as my gift.

17.7.07

mothers, seeds, gods

what do you
 wish for?
the heart leaps the heart opens the heart
closes the heart grieves

it becomes it sinks
into your palm it believes
acacia blossoms this time three
foot snow this mild
spring winter

when I dream of men it is always you
no longer

does it mean I'll wake
up making poppies in a crush of white
its pure

us loving in our barely there
adult twin bodies blue and dark

delight in our delight
buds blazing
but when I dream of women it is always I

delighting to delight

27.6.07

Are the flowers youve brought to the surface to wake me?
Are they heavenly flowers?
Are they an excess of petals, an oblivious turn to abundance, the ground of the flower itself?

Is the aspect of sweetness compressed into a sea-water breath, as one would bring air to the surface?

Would I feel a flower so similar to aberrations of color descending to roses?

As I would so love to be restored from my likeness to what would parallel instead.

25.6.07

Deepness is a metaphor belonging to those who beckon all they seek into the vicinity of the imagination. A flower from the theatre. A passionate rural howl. Controversy with style. Ignorance of sleep as if being awake had somehow more virtue. In reality, there are those who see the deep and the shallow as part of the same view. Landscape is perspective. Insight has your dimensions.

19.4.07

In facing
the face faces us
we see light and
in light a sea
of particulars a face
we see bodies forth
open and opaque
it calls us
ourselves

we forego
in the realm of
sensuous there is not
a first experience of
ego its image apogee

every face his face
only I see he
defys his pleasure
he alarms he divides
he can neither partake
nor participate

My response
resound with redundancy
In facing the face
pain in your pain
forego ego Be
a - cross threshold
Echo Be Echo
What I will give you
since you asked
lilies wild
midst seas of grass
shining lights all your days
This is what
I give,
what I ask of you
is nothing
I am blessed
by the smallest...
of lifes attentions.

16.4.07

Ring
Hugged gravity of the gibbous
this perfect circle a chipped white plate
its center pale reached the compass leg
enscribing silvery thought red to violet
surrounding bow. How is the world
broken turning in stillness not our moon?

Rising
So large...the tide roiling the sea-wound
and broil like a dream afraid our moon
near. A pale basket being hauled
into the sky beginning a separation
the amazed heart swelling a redness
failing in the west our breath caught up.

Full
What I carry with me from the North
fallen into a glittering field
of sea the waters many small instincts
the timid openings of memory.
Whatever I was, whoever you
are, dolor of luna origins
all around us this stripping off this
pallor as we step out of our names...

1.4.07

adamant and beautiful
with worlds sleeping in our palm
playing in the dark changing into a game
of the day disclosing circle
i fall asleep and wake up
in a land where above
citrus fruit haze rises up the spiral
acceptance of inhaling and exhaling
by the vast water with its mystic bounce
and I'm filling up
with every moment
i grasp more and more space
and life in it
throwing the dice i belong
i have love for the same reason
that you are in every raindrop
washing away and rousing silence
in our eyes where several suns are holding
one another with no arms...there...and here
playing in the dark turning into a gala of the light
with you...(always)...with your single breath
as its center.

25.3.07

The space between
the inhale and the
exhale is not so much

a pause as it is a link

a
thread
between

what has been
and
what will be

and that is where
you reside in me

19.3.07

i coalesce
with ease
from breath
to breathing

its sheen
fixes krsna
to speech: a
man can

elevate himself
by his
own mind,
breath to

breathe and
knowing.
benign then
motive

bloods run
thudding
thick & thin
in the waters

deliverance
loves
and
creation

what we shall say
is that,
under sense,
they

cut through the
storms
slipping
clean, away

to the divine
numbering
one to nine
allowing you

to believe
with uniqueness
the way
I remain

16.3.07

This is the Master of heaven, who is like unto Venus and the
moon, and this is the house of Love, which is without bound and
end.

Rumi

15.3.07

sculpture
moon
abyss

sun
bird
star

strangers in a hidden world

14.3.07

I noticed two blue dragonflies hovering, end
to end, above a pond, as if twisting
the iridescence deep into each others
body, abdomens withering, spiraling
into the wing-beaten air. And your voice
comes back to me through the trees, this word
for what we couldn't help but do
to each other -- a thin sigh, unwinding.

13.3.07

12.3.07

Love means you breathe in two countries
what if you were able
to know what I have felt
when powered by the way
we are made
I have felt all of my body
its excess and its strength
thrive up to the creation of my middle
spine steepling to bring me closer
to the speed of gravity
to share that
with you
would be a divine relation
Oxygen feeds a flame
I invite you to breathe this way

7.3.07

Your heart is flying, he said
his weight against her chest
It does that, she said
drawing him in

5.3.07


moving over forest gold
i wish you were an owl
gliding slowly into the night
to see you pass the big silver moon
and watch as your wings
swim the current
of our interlaced soul

3.3.07

do you prefer the deep rise of natural evening
to ride the currents of the earth
as if inertia  - the steam of its own propelling?
do you too possess that boundless energy?
energy of what? of affinity! of pestilence!
...it is unavoidable...
i am both

so...tell me
tell me so...
what do you hear when the sun comes descending
when the rain stops...and starts...and stops again?
I know you hear afar this
silence
I know your feet dont understand our
stillness

2.3.07

You dont know me but
we trapeze anyway
tomorrow more
unpredictability & freedom
tomorrow or the next day
or the day after that
all i know is
Today
is an acrobat

28.2.07

Yo sueño que regreso
un día cualquiera
to the pleasure of letting
the earth slip through my fingers
Yo vivo en permanente exilio
when I dream
I can only speak in tongues of desire
when I dream
of stretched bodies as my island
awaiting me
Yo puedo perderme en las prominencias
de tu cuerpo
in the sugar cane flavor of your tongue
in the dark cinnamon color of your gaze
Yo puedo perderme rozando tus riberas
like a wave
piérdase dentro de usted
Yo sólo sueño que regreso
I can only speak in the tongues of desire
en vuelo
from your body
what is tucked between entangled hair
and the moment somewhat marvelous
is the truth that there is nothing
between us except for us
the light can surely see us
as there is a hum
beating...a glow
but all one hears
is the sea
upon nearby rockiness
and voices
which chorus
through the floating nights
the sky...white
dashing with gleam
the moon melting...
through the horizon
where my vibrant mica star
glints your pearls
blissfully sweet
"...babae!"

“qué pasa?”
“einu sinni enn sólin skín, afturkoma...”
universo de universos,
la lumière luit dans the darkness
en medio del silencio profundo:
“khob, no ké resid bé bâzâr kohné shavad delâzâr” -
en la eternitad…
la luz, no pueden sofocarla,
se para la marea, y no saber adónde vamos…
«róba, pródajeteli ?» «né,dósta»;
et Parcae dixerunt saeculo: mahlip...
iau, atti, attunu, mamma, mala bašû -
esperad todavía
Under the Bo-tree
the Budd-ha-to-be
sought something
beyond opposites,
beyond thought
Talking about it,
even here, in the
holy tabernacle of verse,
is missing it.
Instead of turning away.
In the giving up,
between the giving up
and the engagé
his page will be
our distance
going blank
with all that
you seek.

27.2.07

Wings too divine
in air so cold its edges mark
winters end and springs first pulse.
In the poised crystal I fly silhouettes
that fold closed, then open,
now in prayer, now in possibility.

26.2.07



this...heart...just...knows
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20.2.07

15.2.07

?...tis dis oan abut mi...?

run << from >> t e <<

c h a n * g o

run >> towards << n w >>

13.2.07


Consciousness is More Vast than Language
Greater than Your Personality
Love is a Key
To Your Power
And
Your Joy

7.2.07

We are pain and what cures pain, both.
We are the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.
I want to hold you close like a lute,
so that we can cry out with loving.
Would you rather throw stones at a mirror?
I am your mirror and here are the stones.

Rumi

5.2.07

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this = love
I watched you
grow full of suspicions
making guesses weigh more
get too large
A forest of tall-grown illusions
each whispering their own stories.

Lost in the trees
Daphne, too, is not what he seems.
The birds that nest on his branches
never suspect that he
bark-covered
refused the love of a paradise
the love of a god.

You said
I sing you know
Oh, I know you sing
like a bird, I bet
but not for me
not to me
Then you walked away
toward the trees,
sprouting leaves.

30.1.07

29.1.07



ample make this bed
make this bed with awe

28.1.07

27.1.07

A LONG FALL INTO
INTELLIGENCE

in love with

WHITE SEA CLIFF EDGES
PATH THROUGH CYPRESS...WHERE WE'RE HEADED

eyes open

26.1.07

The crushed lava and
coral bed of your
meaning falls between
parted fingers, opening
dusk concealed between
stars. Nine heavens of
Tagaloa circle
above the children of
earth and spirit:
 the heart, a woman
the earth, a man
Are you
sad?
Yes, but not
like that
she said
and
swam
away.

24.1.07

Enchantment
is a song
the body must remember how to sing.

23.1.07

persistent perennial pleasure in place amongst the peripheral paranormal perfection of predicted preferred predicaments perceived in penetrated personal panoramic peacefulness of parallel passages procrastinating phonetic participation

22.1.07

In my body of skin of moss of clover
I touch fingers to fingers
lips to lips
the exposed tip of the heart

Seed work Sun work Earth work
If pansies are for thoughts
I pick them early in the morning so they last

21.1.07

your lips are missing the story

18.1.07

Recite a large print love aria
into my lower back

Seek out my amiable arch
appearing in the dropped-beauty of the rooftop

Like a dragon it radiates flame

I applaud you as a founder passing
between
and tell me then what to make
of the candle flickering, drilled into the glacier
which will then expire
while he respires...still although
and assures that what is is
and what is not is (anyhow, what the hell)

. . . al hezzaz catches al hamama
. . . al khiate satisfies al taleb
. . . an naasse surprises al mokabeul
. . . az zoddame meets al zeunbar
I cradle your world
therein I could never touch

14.1.07

11.1.07

morning loves removed lovers
and we are
brutally
removed
tepori, gli uni agli altri,
vedette, sempre visitanti,
quiete non resta mai,
mano che non avvolge,
lacera, accartoccia,
torce la pelle, un livido,
e ne fa stemma, stigma,
un accadere muto, trafelato,
un rapido interrompere.
vuoi che si assordi, che rimanga?
It will be a glorious day
when you melt into the earth
Mujer de mi vida, ven a las agues. Ayúdame a purificarme con el exorcismo pagano. Mira mi casa y sus lumbres, no te quedes en la superficialidad, no escribas sobre tu carne los nombres de peces.

Según las circunstancias he traficado con las hojas que se acercan y con voces.

Mi casa es la cabeza, decir esto me reconforta.
X – Why such nothing.
Y – Let it be between us.
X – Why this less than that.
Y – There is only this us at now.
X – Why such serial why.
Y – I remain your hybrid half of this.
Y – I am also not yet an other.
Y – Nor even this as such yet and now.
X – This then at that.
Y – Only then as such.

10.1.07

eight inches
solar plexus

9.1.07

They...they tell me
Heaven is in these lips
But
Once I...I...well I kissed the bottom of the sole
Of the foot of a boy
Who ran into the ocean and
Drowned deep
Down below...
incline

interval. wonder.
statement as indicator. never. always.
always. never. abstract designs.
small paths. the equation of the tangent mind.
wander. circle. between/
idea/configuration.
ourselves trusted.


´´´´

design in blue

logic/probability
random/calculated

transcendental numbers
irrational numbers

complex numbers
real & imaginary

two parallel universes meet


````

precarious

the balance of leaf

the balance of star

unknown pages

maps hidden in clouds

geometrical patterns perceived in trees

silence & uncertainty manifesting

infinity times two


´´´´


voyaging
precarious

our
voices
waves

speculate
light

suns
moons

contour
air

our
bodies
in
orchards

wind
&
iris


````

poet
&
artist

floating
worlds

philosophic
worlds

fleeting

inclined
indirect

8.1.07

Each of our bodies
represents an approach
to movement within
the world’s circumference
my muscles soften underneath the
chinese-water-torture-drip
of seconds passing into seconds
passing into years
every time i come near

5.1.07

Heads bowed,
her knees crumb-ling,
him sinking.
She holds a photo,
him squinting.
the Sun
the son.
Sun at the wheel,
the blank motion is still
further by far than far away.
But on the move, on its way.

4.1.07

Sometimes I think that
Mother Nature could have breast fed
deep Sea dive
listening for the
mysterious Rhythms
we make
slipping in my fingers
somersault ricochet
closed eyes
Open Me
atoms listen with their purple cells
and...dont ask
the unsure-what it means-

3.1.07

Vibrate

Yo
Xu
Izaz
Ya-Ish
Ish-We-Ye-E
Ko
A
Naa
Ae
O
Ish-Tai-Ish
Ku
Zu-O-Ko-A-Sha-Naa

2.1.07

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

1.1.07

the miracle of changed consciousness
comes from placing the attention
above the difficulties of the day

with deep Gratitude
comes true humility
a key to the Fountain of Youth

Gratitude lights the way to enthusiasm.
enthusiasm clears the path to Love
Love is the key to freedom
BE
fountains of youth,
standing waves
whhirrrling, swirling to sur-face
shifting slightly...
just enough to
make wakes of Gratitude

dizziness optional
GOOD
NESS


love...why dont you just sweep me off my feet
anyways...please saleei
keep it comin'

27.12.06

Divine Coding
contained within Gratitude:

egg = beginning = creation
spiral = journey = discovery
circle = completion = return to Now


this formula,
held sacred for all creative purposes,
Will Divinely structure Now
to support
all generations

Living in Love

24.12.06

When you accept changes in your sovereign reality
as the shifting persona of the Universal Soul,
you live in greater harmony with life itself.

Life becomes an exchange of energy between you
and the Universal Soul that is allowed to play out;
without judgment, and is experienced without fear.
This is the underlying meaning of unconditional love:
to experience life in all its manifestations as a single,
unified intelligence that responds perfectly to the projected image of each soul.


It is for this reason that when you project Gratitude to the Universal Soul,
regardless of circumstance or condition,
life becomes increasingly supportive in opening you to activate your divine imprints.
This feeling of Gratitude coupled with the mental concept of appreciation
is expressed like an invisible message in all directions and at all times.


In this particular context, gratitude to the Universal Soul
is the overarching motive behind all forms of expression to which humanity aspires.


Every breath, every word, every touch, every thought, every thing
is centered on expressing this sense of Gratitude;
a Gratitude that you are sovereign and supported by a Universal Soul
that expresses itself through all forms and manifestations of intelligence
with the sole objective of creating the ideal reality
to activate your divine imprints
and transform your entire being into Divine Essence.


It is this specific form of Gratitude that accelerates
the activation of your divine imprints
and their peculiar ability to integrate the disparate components
of your body, mind, heart, and soul, and to transform them
to the state of perception and expression of Divine Essence....


Establishing a relationship with the universe
through the outflow of Gratitude
also attracts life experience that is trans formative -
experience that is richly devoted to uncovering life's
deepest meaning and most formative purpose.

23.12.06

Open your fist.
As my hand withdraws,
I bring it to my chest
My nest.

My arm moves across you.

Hands face
your body. They form an X.

Outside
Within
Raise the wheel while spinning
Hands near your temples
Raise your body
On the moon, not a cloud,
a catastrophic glow - O
the stars are little doors, little doors,
open one, a million more.
Every life is braided with luminous moments.

I was with a friend out on Loch Corrib, the largest lake in the West of Ireland. It was a beautiful summer's day. Time had come to rest in the silence and stillness that presided there. The lake slept without a ripple. A grey-blue haze enfolded everything. There was no division any more between earth and sky. Reaching far into the distance, everything was suffused in a majestic blue light. The mountains of Conamara seemed like pile upon pile of delicate blue; you felt you could almost reach out your hand and pull them towards you. No object protruded anywhere. Trees, stones, fields and islands had forgotten themselves in the daze of blue. Then, suddenly, a harsh flutter as near us the lake surface split and a huge cormorant flew from inside the water and struck up into the air. Its ragged black wings and large awkward shape were like an eruption from the underworld. Against the finely woven blue everywhere its strange form fluttered and gleamed in absolute black. She had the place to herself. She was the one clear object to be seen. And as if to conceal the source as she soared, she left her shadow thistling the lake surface. This was an event of pure disclosure: a sudden epiphany from between the worlds. The strange beauty of the cormorant was a counterpoint to the dreamlike delicacy of the lake and the landscape. Sometimes beauty is that unpredictable; a threshold we had never noticed opens, mystery comes alive around us and we realize how the earth is full of concealed beauty. St Augustine expressed this memorably: 'I asked the earth, I asked the sea and the deeps, among the living animals, the things that creep. I asked the winds that blow, I asked the heavens, the sun, the moon, the stars, and to all things that stand at the doors of my flesh ... My question was the gaze I turned to them. Their answer was their beauty.'

Beauty Is Quietly Woven through Our Days

When we hear the word 'beauty', we inevitably think that beauty belongs in a special elite realm where only the extraordinary dwells. Yet without realizing it, each day each one of us is visited by beauty. When you actually listen to people, it is surprising how often beauty is mentioned. A world without beauty would be unbearable. Indeed the subtle touches of beauty are what enable most people to survive. Yet beauty is so quietly woven through our ordinary days that we hardly notice it. Everywhere there is tenderness, care and kindness, there is beauty. Despite our natural difficulties with our parents, each of us has in our memory moments of deep love we shared with them. Perhaps it was a moment in which you became aware of some infinite tenderness in the way your mother gazed upon you, and you knew that her heart would always carry you as tenderly as it carried herself. Or it might have been a phrase of affection that has continued to sound around your life like a bright circle of blessing.

In Greek the word for 'the beautiful' is to kalon. It is related to the word kalein which includes the notion of 'call'. When we experience beauty, we feel called. The Beautiful stirs passion and urgency in us and calls us forth from aloneness into the warmth and wonder of an eternal embrace. It unites us again with the neglected and forgotten grandeur of life. The call of beauty is not a cold call into the dark or the unknown; in some instinctive way we know that beauty is no stranger. We respond with joy to the call of beauty because in an instant it can awaken under the layers of the heart a forgotten brightness. Plato said: 'Beauty was ours in all its brightness ... Whole were we who celebrated that festival' (Phaedrus).

Beauty does not linger, it only visits. Yet beauty's visitation affects us and invites us into its rhythm, it calls us to feel, think and act beautifully in the world: to create and live a life that awakens the Beautiful. A life without delight is only half a life. Lest this be construed as a plea for decadence or a self-indulgence that is blind to the horrors of the world, we should remember that beauty does not restrict its visitations only to those whom fortune or circumstances favour. Indeed, it is often the whispers and glimpses of beauty which enable people to endure on desperate frontiers.

Even, and perhaps especially, in the bleakest times, we can still discover and awaken beauty; these are precisely the times when we need it most. Nowhere else can we find the joy that beauty brings. Joy is not simply the fruit of circumstance; we can choose to be joyous independent of what is happening around us. The joyful heart sees and reads the world with a sense of freedom and graciousness. Despite all the difficult turns on the road, it never loses sight of the world as a gift. St Augustine said: 'The soul is weighed in the balance by what delights her. Delight or enjoyment sets the soul in her ordered place. Where the delight is, there is the treasure.' Perhaps this is why there is such delight in beauty. In the midst of fragmentation and distress beauty draws the soul into an experience where an elegant order prevails. This brings a lovely tranquillity and satisfies the desire of the soul. When the Beautiful continues on its way, the soul has been strengthened by a delight that will further assist her in transfiguring struggle.

-----
speed of nerve impulse = 136 meters per second
speed of sound = 340.29 meters per second
speed of light = 186,000 miles per second
speed of thought = will
speed of intention = discipline
speed of acceptance = grace
speed of release = compassion
speed of Love = You
speed of Gratitude = Now

21.12.06

Awakening is a flowering of your innermost being.
It is a revelation of your essence,
hidden by long eons of self-delusion,
ignorance,
unbounded desires.

Enlightenment is an ending as well as a beginning:
the ending of the old, veiled, dark ego,
its longings, illusions, frustrations;
the beginning of a vast expanse,
an infinite field of the Unknown,
an adventure in consciousness.

It is a revolution:
it represents danger to the old way of life,
to old ways of thinking and living.

It is freedom from the known and the unknown;
from the real and the unreal;
from any appearance of division between you and Truth.

It is the abandoning of beliefs, dis-beliefs,
presumptions and stances,
self, ego,
call it what you will,
or call it nothing,
what it is.

It is the Path of the golden Dawn,
the Path out of the Night of Time
into the Bursting daylight of Eternal Now...

- Petros

18.12.06

i : you : too

17.12.06

water crystals reveal
structural alterations
bent by vibration
being currently
arranged to display Now

love beats true
within waking waters of time
called You and I

masterfully guided through Gratitude
this Source force Will create
bodies bent on behaving with
benevolent intentions
designed to witness

Life as waking Art

13.12.06

December is a key transitional month in which it's essential that we get ourselves unstuck from our old patterns and leap onto our new level, The River of Love. Throughout the month there will be Quantum Surf to help us break through. The entire momentum of the prevailing currents is leading us forward into an extremely exciting time, the time we have been waiting for, and we really don't want to miss it!

We've spent lifetimes mining for gold in a place that has already been stripped of all its minerals. There is no more gold left hidden in these rocks. And yet many of us are still mining there and feeling the constant disappointment that we are not finding what we have been so diligently searching for. This has caused us to become disheartened or numbly passive. It has made us lose our trust and covered us with a fine layer of dust.

We haven't found what we've been looking for because we've been looking for it in the wrong places and the wrong timing, not because we were looking for the wrong things. Our truest heart's desires are absolutely valid and they are finally on the brink of manifesting on the physical.

We have passed the Point of No Return. There is no going backwards and there is no more traveling on old roads. If we do, it will shorten our time on this planet and damage our beings. Remember, "OUR ONLY OPTION IS TO SUCCEED." Indeed, our only option is to now move our beings onto the totally new level which is right in front of us, and to jump into the River of Love with our full beings.

As increasing numbers of us leap into the River of Love, the resonance of Real True Love will spread all over the world, strengthening the resonance of Love for all and dissolving the final knots of duality.

5.12.06

I move through drifting fog smoke rising from black vernal pools a dark spiral above tight piers of tiny boats circling fields beyond watercolor dunes cool lupine renegade poppies fiery mustard cascading i hear loves voice restless hanging reverberating in the air disturbing tones from a kabuki spring trance siberian sentencing from my mouth witness to where the silver moon flies into dreams kingdom mosaic musings awaking to my face tranquil to bliss

4.12.06

Fire is to flourish
in language
limbs fade together
fortress of distance
release the heartache
where skin is molten
in a moment his stillness
rattles my core

And in this cascading bed
I shudder at the intruder
excused to the comparisons
of nighttime howling
with nothing left to bother
but with breadcrumbs in hand

HS

29.11.06

i can jump a three thousand year old desert
i can bound over the mountains of the moon
i can bend over jupiters blues
i can allow the seas to send seven songs of wisdom
from their deep throated estuaries
i can allow the stars to shine
but i can never call the rain mine

yet.
i am still a six thousand year old cave painting. yours
i am still a bat in an attic. yours
i am still a bee in the ceiling. yours
i am still a butterfly in a lanternhouse. yours

you are still that sunbeam that races over the sand. mine
you are still that corner i am about to walk around. mine
you are still channels and winds alive. mine
you are still that lofty
love making
arm bending
granite crunching
heart of. mine

28.11.06

A strange passion is moving in my head.
My heart has become a bird which searches
in the sky.
Every part of me goes in different directions.
Is it really so that the one I love is everywhere?

- Rumi
look_out_i

26.11.06

to move from there
all embracing trancendental nature
names forms disappear within
free from illusory covering
free from false consciousness
infinite knowledge
liberation
purity
flavor
bonds
devour time
gentle mother recreate
eternal night
power of energy
formless passion
boundless freedom
manifest state of sound
be nature
illumined consciousness
the bright fire of truth
all merge
reveal the infinite
death of death
mysteries
a spiral line movement
movement of creation
compassion
ribbons of light
understand
worlds of light
the lady of life

22.11.06

And who are you to tell me that this heaven we all dream of is not really just this earth we breathe in...?

21.11.06

Mercy, love, Mercy

20.11.06

19.11.06

The light, the light!
The searching, the seeking!
In chaos, in chaos!
The mother swells expanding from within outwards
Darkness radiates light
Behold the radiant child of the two...
The unparalleled...
Revulgent glory...
Bright space...
Son of dark space
Ils ont trouvé un trou dans mon coeur...
La marque de beauté je dirais
Les échos de moi...
Epargner des bébés accidentels
Faire taire maintenant...
Mis expliquer
Vous et la lune...
Il n'aura jamais d'importance

18.11.06

The purpose of the body is to experience life fully. The body becomes a vehicle for the intelligence by which it is able to experience life fully. In order to make sound more audible people build domes and other places where resonance is produced and the voice and the words become more clear. So the construction of the body is intended to make all that is perceptible clear. By nature the body is the vehicle of the intelligence or the soul, by which it experiences life fully. But as man has lived for generations a life of increasing artificiality, he has moved farther and farther from nature; therefore this vehicle which was made a perfect instrument to experience life fully has become less and less capable of attaining that object. It is this incapability of experiencing life fully, and the innate desire to experience it, which makes the soul strive for spiritual attainment. What man does not know he thinks does not exist; in this is to be found the origin of materialism. But the tendency towards spiritual realization remains there as an innate desire which is consciously or unconsciously felt by every soul, whether spiritual or material. It is for this reason that even a material person has a silent craving in his heart to probe the depth of the very spiritual ideal which he disowns.

The work of the senses is to experience, to taste, smell, touch, hear, and see; but besides these senses there is the inner sense which is one sense. It is by experiencing through the different organs of the senses that this one sense becomes many senses. It is the same sense which hears, smells, tastes, feels, touches; but because it experiences life through different organs, man divides one sense into five senses. The depth of that sense which is the inner sense is more subtle than one can imagine. When that sense finds a free expression it not only experiences life more keenly through the organs of the senses, but it becomes independent of the organs of sense. It penetrates through life deeply, and as Kabir says, 'It sees without eyes and hears without ears'. The reason is this: that all that exists is contained in an accommodation and by being in the nature of all things is revealed.

In fact there is nothing in this world which does not speak. Everything and every being is continually calling out its nature, its character and its secret; and the more the inner sense is open, the more it becomes capable of hearing the voice of all things. In every person this sense exists, but for the most part, hidden, buried; and its being buried gives discomfort, for it is something which is living, the only living being there is. The idea of the 'lost word' has its secret in this; when once this inner sense has broken the walls which keep it enclosed, it breathes the freedom and happiness which belong to the soul; the soul attains. Every discomfort, from whatever source, comes through the lack of understanding. The more the inner sense is covered, the more the soul finds itself in obscurity. It is for this reason that the sign of the enlightened soul is readiness to understand; therefore these souls are easy to reconcile. When a person can understand himself better, he can make another person understand better also. But when a person is perplexed himself, instead of making another person understand, he confuses him. In this way differences are produced.

The organs of the senses are the accommodations of grosser and finer nature. The finer the organ the more perception it has; the grossness takes away from the organ its power of perception.

This shows that the body may be likened to a glass house made of mirrors. In Persian language the poets have called it Aina Khana, meaning the 'Temple of mirrors'. The eye stands as a mirror before all that is visible;it reflects all that it sees. The ears are the accommodation for the re-echo of every sound that falls upon them. The senses of touch and of taste are grosser than the senses of sight and hearing. At the same time their nature is the same; all the different sweet, sour and salt savors, and the feeling of warmth and cold, are perceived by them, and they stand as mirrors in which objects are reflected. Therefore, as one sees oneself reflected in the mirror, so this body stands as a mirror in which every experience of the outer life is reflected, and is made clear. If the mirror is dusty it does not reflect the image clearly, so the experience of life is not clear when the body is not looked after according to the spiritual point of view.

The scriptures say that the body is the Temple of God; but the right interpretation of this saying would be that the body is made to be the Temple of God; a temple cannot be called a Temple of God if God is not brought and placed there. So it is natural when a soul feels depressed that there is something wrong with the vehicle. When the writer wishes to work, and the pen is not in order, it annoys him; there is nothing the matter with the writer; it is the pen which is not right. No discomfort comes from the soul; the soul is happy by nature; the soul is happiness itself. It becomes unhappy when something is the matter with its vehicle, which is its instrument, its tool, with which to experience life. Care of the body, therefore, is the first and the most important principle of religion. Piety without this thought is of little significance.

The soul manifests in this world in order that it may experience the different phases of manifestation, and yet may not lose its way and be lost, but may attain to its original freedom, in addition to the experience and knowledge it has gained in this world. The different exercises that the Sufis and Yogis do in order to enable the mind and body to experience life more fully, exercises such as fasting, pose, posture, movement, they all help to train the body, that it may become a fitting vehicle for the experience of life. Wonder-working, such as psychometry, feeling the atmosphere of places, of objects, of people, comes when the body is also prepared for it.

A person may be intelligent, clever, learned, good or pious, and yet his sense of perception may not be fully awake. It must be remembered as the first principle of life that manifestation was destined for keener observation of life within and without.

The greatest unhappiness that a person feels is from lack of mastery; the unhappiness comes when knowing his mastery he yet cannot practice that which he knows. Sadness comes from limitation, limitation in different forms: lack of perception, lack of power over oneself, or over conditions, or from the lack of that substance which is happiness itself, which is love.

There is sometimes lack of understanding, though there may be love, or lack of love through lack of understanding;there may be both things and lack of power. If love has reached perfection it will attain all three powers;when love becomes power, it becomes understanding. The nature of love is as the nature of water in the depths of the earth. If one does not dig deep enough one finds sand, not water; but when one digs deep enough one finds water. Many lovers of God lose patience, trust and hope; they have touched sand and not reached water, but when they have dug deep enough they find pure water.

As there are different organs of senses, so there are five centers of inner perception. These centers are seats of the intuitive faculties. Two among them are of great importance: the heart and the head. If the Sufi training differs from that of the Yogis, it is in the training of both these centers together, by which the Sufi achieves balance. The head without the heart shows dry intellect. The heart without the head represents an unbalanced condition. Balance is the use of both these faculties. The Sufi training is based upon this principle.

The centers may be likened to the space that one finds in the apple. It is an accommodation, where not only scent, touch, hearing and sight are perceived, but even the thought and feeling of another; the condition in the atmosphere, the pleasure and displeasure of one's fellow-man are perceived, and if the sense of perception is keener, then even past, present and future are revealed. When man does not perceive in this way it does not mean that it is foreign to his nature; it only means that the soul has not developed that power of perception in his body. The absence of such free perception naturally causes depression and confusion, for the soul longs for a keen perception; and it feels confused, and at times agitated, owing to a lack of a fuller perception, as the person who is blind feels nervous agitation, because the inner longing is to see, and when the organ of sight fails he becomes agitated.

This is generally the cause in many souls who feel restless. And the life man lives is a life of artificiality, it works against him. It is not necessary to read the ancient traditions to find out the truth about this. Today in the people who live a less artificial life, a more simple life, a life in and near nature, the intuitive faculties are more keen, and these people show a greater happiness.

The centers become blocked by certain foods and by living a more materialistic life. They are located in certain places; and as there are some plants in the caves of the mountains where the sun and the air do not reach, and it is difficult for the plants to live, so are the centers of perception located in the physical body; the body is nourished by food, but these centers remain without any nourishment.

The physical body is made of matter, its substance is matter; but the centers of perception are of still finer matter, and though they are located in the physical body, no nourishment can reach them, except that which is drawn through the breath, the fine substance which is not even visible. In the language of the mystics it is called Nur, which means light. The body does not only want food, but also breath, in other words vibration, and that vibration is given to it by the repetition of sacred words. The sounds, the vowels, and the composition of the sacred words is chemical, and it is this process which was called by the ancient philosophers Alchemy. These centers are the domes where every sound has its echo, and the echo once produced in this Asman reaches all other Asmans which exist within and without. Therefore the repetition of a sacred word has not only to do with oneself and one's life, but it spreads and rises higher than man can imagine, and wider than he can perceive. Verily every action sets in movement every atom of the universe.

When once the inner sense has become keen it shows its development first by working through the organs of the senses. The vision becomes clearer, the hearing becomes keener, the sense or touch felt more keenly, sense of taste and smell clearer. Therefore among those who tread the mystic path one finds many who are sensitive, and become more sensitive as they develop spiritually. As the standard of health known by the average person is much beneath the mystical ideal, so to the uninitiated the sensitiveness of a person of mystical temperament may often seem peculiar. At the same time when this sensitiveness is developed by spiritual training, and is under control, it manifests as the first quality in the life of a seer. The body which covers the soul keeps it blind by depriving it of its freedom of expression in keener perception. It is like a captivity for the soul. When the centers of the body are awakened and at work, then the soul experiences life more clearly, and naturally clouds which give depression clear away. The soul begins to look forward to life with hope, with trust, and with courage; and thus attains that power and understanding which is needed in the struggle for Life.

When a little more advanced, the intelligence begins to see through the eyes what every eye cannot see: the finer forces of nature manifesting in color and form. There are many who talk much about this, and some who know and say little, for they do not see wisdom in speaking about something which their neighbor does not see. And among those who speak much about seeing things which others do not see, there is hardly one who really sees.

There is no doubt that, as the sight becomes keen, first the colors of different elements working in nature manifest to the view; secondly, the atmosphere that is created around man, which is composed of semi-material atoms also becomes manifest. This is what is called the aura. The different colors of this aura express the meaning, for there is nothing in this world which is without meaning. The one who pursues the meaning of life in all its aspects hears again in them the Word which was once lost for him. No doubt the life of a sensitive person becomes difficult, especially when one has to live among the crowd. It is for this reason the Brahmins lived an exclusive life, which has been criticized by some who do not know the meaning of it. Different practices of breathing are a great help in training both mind and body to make them more perceptive, in order that they may become fitting vehicles to fulfil the purpose of life.

--UK