Wednesday, April 18, 2007

road grist

"perhaps everything terrible
is in its deepest being,
something that needs our love."
rilke

odd, though i do not read
the news of things,
the energetics seem to find
their way into the heart/mind stream.

how does one take it in..?
transform and transcend
the violence into
the one taste?
is it the fertilizer
that seeps deep into
the lily of the field
that will burst it
into the brilliance of blossom?

i have no answer..
only my own question..
my own broken and fearful heart ..

early morning in bandon..
the walkabout to the estuary
puts me eye to eye with
a harbour seal..
those eyes of the silky
penetrating the depths
of unknown..fathoms down
inquiry into the core of things..

my right foot needs some rest.
the heel has full blown itself
into a callous blister
of circustent size..
full of the rain
i have been walking through..
full of the wet of willfulness.

i find a coast bus that will
transport me and my blister
to the end of the line..
that's brookings.
it leaves early in the am..
as i hobble to the stop,
the sky is awake..
bleu and rosey..
my heart/mind reflecting
bleu and rosey..

i climb on the bus
to a noisy, vexing voice.
the voice of a homeless
gent who is spouting
the 2nd and 3rd phase of doom.
he shouts that the dark one
is tempting us all away
from the light side..
that we must know how to
step aside from the clutches
of beelzebub!!!!!

as we drive off,
the bus driver
demands that the loud one
settle down and be still..
praises!
he was quite animated as he
blew his nose in his hands,
wiped them on the seat..the pole..
coughing, growling, snorting..

just like me?
i don't think so..
'tis!
'tis, indeed!

as we step down,
the homeless "shatan" shouter..
was in need of some help..
he had a wheel chair in the back,
a pile of soiled pillows and blankets..
a very, big stick!

now hear this!
my own fear..
my sense of "i"
would not let me
in any way, shape or form
put out a hand to serve
this homeless bro..

i had forsaken peace..

cho seung-hui,
the loner,
the killer..
no hand went out to him..

his own hand reached
into the hell of things
covered with our blood...

drink it up..drink it up..
offer it back as the nectar
of lovingkindness...

ED. NOTE:
see march 22 post
confess all your hidden faults!

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