Unconscious, Word Thief

My sister—sixteen years my

senior—reads most poems I 

make.  She says I’m full of it . . .

referring to poetry.

By phone this morning she did

ask about the origin.

So what she could not know, I

get all my poems from else

where, lifting them as words of

prey from the dictionary . . .

or from writers more refined

than I, witness Ken Wilber.

I start each day, early morn, 

making a poem that comes

from direct experience

filtered through my unconscious.

Whereas afterward, I read.

What I read recent stunned me.

It comes from Wilber’s One Taste,

selections of reflections

on his integral viewpoint,

page three-hundred-forty-two:

“Can you right now show me your

Original Face, of which 

there is One and Only One. . . ?”

Ah, the title, “One, Only”

came from reading Wilber in

October, two-thousand-two!

Lately, I’ve been re-reading

and noticed the word stealing,

from lo, twelve years ago. 

One, Only

So long as i abide by

the world of things and thinking,

i will never lay my eyes on 

the One, the Only I.

And yet, as i linger in

the mist, my wistful worry,

i await the refining of

the one, the only me.

So while i wait for my me 

to wake up, grow up, clean up,

i can make up my me by

constant practice of presence.

And so i apply patience . . .

forgiving each and ev’ry

perceived harm done unto me, yes,

the one, the only me.

And i apply compassion . . .

being kind to all who cross 

my path, as all do suffer me,

the one, the only me.

And i apply gratitude . . .

being generous with all

for what’s being given to me,

the one, the only me.

Then in the fullness of time 

i shall tell my life’s story 

in the face of that true glory . . . 

the One, the Only I.

I, i

Buddha mind, the mind of Christ—

each bespeaks transcendence of 

own self being, the self i 

see in the mirror yonder.

In both the door be ajar

to awakening, though what

is said may vary greatly . . . 

because language is a trap.

Reading historic reports

will sure confuse the dickens

out of me till i know well 

what the hell i am reading.

But leave me the hell alone

till i awaken, then I

will tell i what’s what, what’s not,

using words from any faith.

There is, to be sure, a self

for each person on planet

Earth, but every one can

awaken to the one Self

that alone be Spirit, known

by any and all who risk

losing the i for the sake

of I, and every i.

That which is ever present

cannot therefore be attained

because it can never be

lost, being Ever Present.

There is nothing outside of

I, no i other than I . . .

yet so claiming, you could be 

asked to leave Alabama.

Ups and Downs

Any morning I wake up

to notice I’m still breathing,

I do make up a poem.

Feeling alive is hardly

enough to keep my upright 

beast from being downright mean.

I also have to grow up 

the body and mind and then

clean up the shadow I cast.

But without waking up in

spirit, I tend to get stuck 

lifting up the ego’s weight.

Weighed down by haggling over 

the niceties of dogma 

and refined doctrinal traps,

I merely translate points of 

view without any inkling 

of transcendental presence. 

A cup of coffee, or tea . . . ?

Notice What Matters

Whenever someone tells me

they are pleased to see me

I think, and may even say,

I am so pleased to be seen.

The alternative, of course,

would be to say to other,

I am so pleased to see You—

sure, a friendly nicety.

Yet I am lifting up here

the refined alternative

to being seen, namely, not 

being seen . . . for being dead. 

So I am yet alive . . . You?

Climatology

Global warming comes mainly from carbon 

dioxide rising in our atmosphere.

Life on Earth as we enjoy it today

is sustainable at levels below 

350 parts per million and

we are now above 401.

The galvanizing news of that is this,

no one will escape tomorrow’s outcome.

Science would sober us up if profit 

drinkers were not such oil-a-holics.

The only hope is for the rest of us

to stage a capital intervention.

Perhaps we are too late . . . so perhaps not.

"The science is sobering—

the global temperature in 

2012 was among the hottest 

since records began in 1880.  

Make no mistake: without 

concerted action, the very 

future of our planet is in peril."

~ Christine Lagarde, Managing Director 

International Monetary Fund

I, I Begin Anew

For forty days, forty nights

I live in the wilderness

of monkpoetry, small words

visiting me daily ad 

seriatim with a mind

all their own—or so doth seem.

It comes my grateful duty

then to re-order the drafts 

and find a place for them in

some more ambitious project.

To be faithful to that task

I have to go where word is 

afore world ever doth rise—

there as the get-go of God, 

that word . . . in the beginning.