Separation
That my left foot knows
where my right foot is pointing
is ever a wonder--stumbling
as I do over my own words
Many go to war
left foot right foot
left foot right foot
defending the illusion
Afraid of human gesture
they live in separate camps
and cities torn in two
I hear them sometimes late at night--
mad with grief and suffering
beating their wings against a sky
disfigured by the moon
cramming their mouths with darkness
then wondering why
they go hungry
or die alone on the road
Sometimes, even, hoping
the enemy will come to visit
The Path of Empathy
"When did the left foot stop walking with the right?
--Fu Schroeder
Green Gulf Ranch, California
Head swollen, eyes still blackened and green
from injuries sustained in a skirmish-
I turn to meditation
My body, this old dog
finds a spot to rest--
it is my mind that rattles
like a snake in a bamboo tube
Is it not the same with war and peace?
Within without
my country your country
I'm right you're wrong
Hsssssssss
Many go to war two by two-
left foot right foot
left foot right foot
forgetting they are One
Others---yogis
may cross the entire universe
without ever having left
Every day
I put one breath after the other
just as Someone Else
puts the other breath before
Breathing out breathing in--
the world becomes larger
the world becomes smaller--
continuously living
continually dying
On stage online on website blogs:
message in a bottle--
see me hear me feel me touch me
screams a disappearing world in high definition
while I in my easy chair feed these pages
with bite-size impressions
3,000 Burmese monks walk barefoot
in protest of their government
3,000 Burmese monks walk barefoot
with Jesus in the desert
walk barefoot
with Buddha in the forest
walk barefoot
with Moses on the mountain.
The earth is moving
and still I sit
The mountains are moving-
they are running beside the rivers
But I do not budge--
I hear but I do not listen
I am liquid says the snake your river flows within.
I am skin says the snake you can peel me like a glove
I am mindful says the snake you must change
to be changed
When did the left foot stop walking with the right?
When did you stop becoming me?
There are many languages
but there is only one tongue
When I opened up my mouth and heard myself scream
I could feel the dry explosion in the squeeze of my throat.
I could taste the brain's bitterness on the tip of my tongue
When I opened up my mouth and heard myself scream
a thousand consonants like stars flew in different directions.
Consonants gagged on spittle and yesterday's dust
consonants gagged on consonants
and in no particular order
When I opened up my mouth and heard myself scream
I knew then that they would want to blindfold this poem
and question it until it cracked!
Soon they are sticking bamboo shoots
under the nails of each sentence to extract its full meaning.
But I do not budge
I won't give up the vowels
I WON"T GIVE UP THE VOWELS!!
I , a large toad growing larger on my cushion
transforming in mid-air. nightmare into dream.
Eyes that stutter with all the old stories--
the history of my life
written across my bruised body in Braille.
Where is Kindness?
with her thousand fingertips
to trace the shadow of our suffering
and soothe its man?
What have they done with Quon Yin?
with her thousand arms and cameras flashing-
eyes rolling in the palms of her Hand
eyes to record and to remember. ..
what we leave out!
3,000 Burmese monks walk barefoot
in protest of their government
while I a large toad a leap of faith
go hopping on one foot across the Universe
across the only One path I know-
the path of empathy
My mother (breathing out, breathing in)
rolled bandages in basements
with women who wore numbers on their arms.
My father (left foot right foot)
could never step into anyone else's shoes
When he died...they had to cut off both his feet
When did the left foot stop walking with the right.
When did I stop...becoming you?
The Crossing
News Year's Eve-The year Gore lost the election
In a year of uncertainty
and rush to judgment
I question the validity of midnights
and other deadlines I must cross
Bridges are fine
for comings and goings
for meetings and partings
for making that connection.
but you can't plant a garden there
or watch your children grow
If you want to make a real connection
consider your neighbor opposite you
and extend yourself
You can hang a bridge on just one breath
if your spirit is strong and true.
You and I without words
are already in conversation
You and I are more than
water under the bridge
In a year of shifting currents
and torturous turns-
I am a river And everything
that comes and goes
that rises and falls
that turns and returns
moves inside of me
I travel with the sun
and by the light of the moon
who wanders like a gypsy
along the riverbanks of her mind
while I hold the Mirror
I am water blessed with healing
thicker than blood
and in communion with all things
I talk with the birds and the wind in the trees
and the heavens reflected above.
I sing myself into oceans
and dance on clouds in the valleys below
You and I without words
are deep in conversation
We meet in the flow-
between the rising and falling of each breath.
In the flow-
between the rising and falling of rain
In one drop of water...after it falls...
before it drops away...at the still-point-
where all things are reflected.
In that moment of transcendence where
everything still is moving and
everything moving is still
Even Time as it ripples across your face
and dissolves as in a mist or a dream
In a year of uncertainty and rush to judgment
I turn to you In you
I long to see my own reflection-
my one true face that waits for me
in a place beyond my longing. In you
I long to hear my one true voice
that lifts me deep within myself
before the echo before me
I cannot grasp my endless scream
nor carry it alone to where it calls me
Here with you in the dark, I recite the stars
and trace the face you turn toward heaven
Here with you in the light, I listen for that voice
that carries with it all the ancient voices
all the streams of consciousness
who have passed this way before-
my mother's mother my father's father-
all who have carried me here to you
In a year of uncertainty and rush to judgment
I am my own defining moment
moving forward with the certainty
that I am not the same person I was an hour ago
My heart is a river And, like a river
I cannot enter myself in the same way twice.
I carry your river in mine-one heartbeat at a time
This is the kiss at midnight
this is the moment that counts--
my mouth as wide as the sky
my heart a vessel
emptying into an Unseen Ocean
I am a an River
and I make this crossing... slowly