Tuesday, January 27, 2015

An Unfamiliar Ocean

In my dream he said to give you the gift of silence, and then we talked a bit about his decision to move west which left me with Tara Singh. Snow as the light fails, leaving only a little time to write yet another poem for the chickadees. What a thorny nest we make when we insist on perception! The 1970s left their mark internally, mainly in the way I conceive of Heaven as a disco and God as a sexually passive Greg Brady. Jesus doesn't care, being dead these many centuries. At least we can share the historic burial shroud. Attention, awareness, consciousness . . . what a vocabulary we have to learn and unlearn just to learn the whole loveliness of what is always empty! In fact, now and then I do go back to put my arms around the lost ones, but you are not lost - you are demanding old prerogatives from an altar we disassembled lifetimes ago. Sell all your jewelry and give the proceeds to the poor. Visit an unfamiliar ocean. Let the moonlight find you naked and perfect as I know you now to be. The silence is beautiful and whole my love. Stop decorating it with your ideas of me and see at last the light. Me, too.

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