Brush Strokes

You stand near me.
I am drawn again
to magic.

Our eyes touch.
Oh! The house
is burning down.

My hand in yours...
the planet
begins to wobble.

Your hand in mine...
a star
explodes.

Embracing,
I feel the wind
of your soul.

Kissing.
No more words
now.

Deeper

Behind your eyes, beneath your face,
beyond those things time must erase,
I hear you sing, I see you bright,
yet still I sense some deeper place

where all the play of song and sight
shall fall away with little trace
but for an essence -- humming, slight,
steady, clear -- a ray of light.

The word most nearly right: Grace.

7/17/08

Summer Night

Web spinners festoon the lindens.
Fireflies silently enchant the lawn.
The fan's breath strokes
my galvanic bare skin
in the quiet pool of the dark.
It is late. This night is alive.

Heat lightning shivers the shadows
and I glimpse remembered faces.
I think of California,
burning again.

In my dream
voices from the West
murmur an invitation.
I will accept before long.
Soon the great storms will come
with their rough cleansing.
I will go soon, like the music
pulsing from a fast car's radio
on a summer night.

Luna I

The trick
to en-joying

the full moon's light
is not to worry

about the dirt
on the window

through which
She reveals Herself.

--5/19/08
(image of Hunter's Moon from nightskyinfo.com)

Harper's Ferry Gap

Between the mountains
along the rivers
I remember that radios
and phones don't work in here.
This raises the question
'Can my prayer be heard?'.

The sun-warmed pavement
immediately says "of course
I hear."
The trees shake their leaves
in a tribal dance with the wind
that is an affirmation.
The water laughs as it tickles
the river stones:
"Silly soul.
Haven't you learned
this lesson
yet?"

Landlocked in Fur

Enjoy Tukaram's poem!

Landlocked in Fur

I was meditating with my cat the other day
and all of a sudden she shouted,
"What happened?"

I knew exactly what she meant, but encouraged
her to say more - feeling that if she got it all out on the table
she would sleep better that night.

So I responded, "Tell me more, dear,"
and she soulfully meowed,

"Well, I was mingled with the sky. I was comets
whizzing here and there. I was suns in heat, hell - I was
galaxies. But now look - I am
landlocked in fur."

To this I said, "I know exactly what
you mean."

What to say about conversation
between

mystics?

-- Tukaram

Alchemy (Beltane)

"No" has its consequences.
"Yes" does, too.
And so, dragging along
my host of defenses
like a stone,
I leave the comfort zone
of everyday
to enter a magical realm
of angry angels, beaming demons,
earthy squalor, ravishing beauty.

A flute in the trees accompanies
bellows of passion satisfied.
The gamelan of gongs and drums
answers an occasional YOO-HOO!

I am terrified, enchanted.
Frozen and aflame.

And then, you kiss me.
My mind startles,
but my body opens.
.
This isn't Kansas,
but you are the wizard,
and my senses shake off
their stupor.

Reconciliation of opposites
creates a new thing:
Love and fear
become fire.
I let it
consume me.

5/2/08

Short Mountain

I walk the land and think: Oh.
Thank you. Thank you.
And the trees and birds,
wind and rocks,
whisper back: Welcome.
You are welcome.
Welcome home.

5/2/08

Poem: The Healing Time

A beautiful poem written by Pesha Joyce Gertler -- enjoy! Bob

The Healing Time

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy
holy.
--Pesha Joyce Gertler

The Drive to School

Fields of yellow mustard
-- golden fields --
I forget, from year to year,
their beauty.
Always amazed
each spring.