Elementary Plight

Trying to be smart.
Tying the reasons to be
into a bundle of
well sounded spits
while uninterested in
sounding amazing.

Reading? Que ahce esto? Que hace esto? Que hace esto? Que le dice esta boca a esta oreja? Que muestra que no estoy perdido en un sueño? Estamos todos aqui reunidos, pero tengo miedo que estar solo.

Haiku

Infinity sits
at the bathroom's blue corner~
Spitting toothpaste

Protect

Carried by the essence of objects

that watch for the intersections

where sharp and blunt cross;

in a space of clarity uncut or blundered

being moved to Trust and Innocence

Longing for the lover's sacred space

to join with the Utmost, silently

and seeing, accepting the movement;

the protest is dissolved in tears

or breath of fires of creation

Where the trust is settled is Heart

living in every space and sense

not unique without itself

answering the soft ascension

with wash and sparkle

Bring the weary self to Everything

and leave it with its Love

it will be taken care of, cleansed

opening the eyes of Heart to follow

the leading, unbroken tread

Find the rhythm, get that stroke

that was born along our pain and breath

and dance with it; touch the silence

in which you are made every moment

and rejoin with laughter

Watch the stones grow

Wind sweeps

Wind has swept another cotton ball up the alley
crisply rolling, sometimes; now
where does the wind go?
Where it takes leaves
after the sunstorms flush out humid drops
is the wind's whim.
No dust is misplaced. No dust wonders.
Going with the gentle push
or winding swaggers of gusty currents
stopping at the crevices.
No dust is good or bad. No crevice a trap.
Trusting the wind as the breath of flutes
careen songs into the heart; blissful
exchange of purpose and destination.

Clasping the crashing mites along the journey.

Life goes on. 

I am asked to move on. 

Independence she says. 

Life goes on. 

I go on. 

I am not right, not wrong. 

Haven't a place to seek.

Move on with the moment. 

This moment is painful and sweet. 

This is nothing.

Thank you for the words of clarity. 

This is everything.

(and even my most ambiguous answer

is not a way to shrug off what you say)

I am as sincere as I can be now.

I am a hypocrite. You are one too. Thank you. I am sorry.

I am arrogant. So are you. I am sorry. It is just as well.

I am your son but also myself. 

You are mother of more than one

and of so much more

and just yourself.

This I know

I see

I smell,

even if only for moments.

This is just as well.

Thank you. 

Clarity is you at the most severe of snow storms. 

Thank you for you as well act without knowing,

you move life without having a say.

Or you do have one and I am all fool.

And I underestimate the sensibility of others

but not for self-engrandurement. 

In fact it has all been about self-realism,

or an attempt to just see without interpreting. 

You are beautiful.

You too, brother and sister. 

You are nothing as well. 

Nothing that means so much

a nothing that fills the voids of all

You are All

All is you

and I am here as well

I am now your brother

your friend last time and again,

you mother,

I have been a leaf in your vestibule

and I love you

except I don't really remember Love.

The answer to all these questions is here

and I keep missing it,

like walking past the open window 

time and again.

This is just as well.

You are just as well.

Great.

Magnificent oblivion.

(I remember when I first heard the word oblivion;

I though I was living Love and I was a fool still)

Thank you.

Thank you. 

There aren't true words.

All this is no lie either.

But lost, all lost in the motive.

I am lost in the motive of my actions.

I will find the motiveless action

and perpetuate it as long as the breath keep visiting me.

I have no promises.

Words are not themselves. 

I live,

that is,

Life lives me.

You are the window,

the door knob, the door.

You have been here

longer than I remember

to tell the truth.

If you think this is about you

(just as I continue to delude myself

into thinking so...)

you are mistaken.

And so be I.

This is just rain

all the rain.

If you don't understand,

Imagine your son, brother, father, friend!

Thank you.

This whole independence isn't where you tell me.

This comfort isn't where you show me.

And I know that doesn't mean

that it isn't so for you.

So be it.

All I have is a moment.

A moment with you.

I am glad we have it,

sad I make it hard,

happy you make it light,

absorbed in the length

that lasts no time. 

All I [think I] have

is this moment,

and I'm glad I choose to care

sad I don't show more

appalled at the levity of gravity

wishing to tell you

what there is no words for.

All is a moment

and sometimes we think

we're making something

and we don't see

how much we think

and little we feel

[let ourselves feel]

How old must you think

I am

you are

we have been?

I do wonder if this will last forever

(and it does!)

All than I know is nothing,

it seems, in spite of my senses,

and all I mean is well.

It is time for me to cease to be what I think I am

I am done with this illusion,

I am done of all illusions

Illusions compel me to make this

and make it illusions as well. 

Shigata ga nai.

The dreams we are

I dream of perfect things,

like how to truly care for animals

all creatures allowed to be;

sanctuaries protected

by simply observing nature

love itself.

I was in the tropical sanctuary, close to the muddy bank of the river, watching a small alligator, when a little girl came out the trail. She approached the creature thinking it was a cat, calling out to it, Come here kitty, and I stepped out of the bushes quickly and picked her up as the gator reached out to her snapping, You have to pay attention!, I told her. We walked up the veranda stairs, the wooden mesh of the fence running up and surrounding the whole terrace. On it, a black and red bug. The child walked in front of me, so I took my jacket or a blanket and covered the space between her and the bug, rushing. As we passed, the bug jumped off and stung me in the forehead. I felt the rushing pain in my sleeping body. Relief and pain. 

I dream of true things.

Truth about myself

in the face of my own delusion.

All people are allowed

amities and feuds morph

into channels of resolution.

After the radio went off I found myself in a large house; a roommate of many. Familiar faces in a large but quiet house, decorated as anyone pleases. I was actually settling into this house, but I couldn't arrange myself. The room I had was small and right in front of the entrance from the back yard. I had great ideas about the arrangement of the space but nothing to arrange in it. There were people wetting soil, preparing for planting. I wasn't sure what was to be planted and I had the rousing suspicion that it was going to be ganja. I didn't say anything. I felt like showering, so I stepped out of the room into the common room, where some people were watching television, or just sitting on the floor. There was a shower there, so I took my clothes off except my underwear. A girl in the group of people watched me; I didn't care. In the shower there was barely space and the water was almost getting outside the curtains. Red curtains, made of that plastic that sticks on itself, were the only thing between me and the room full of people. I tried seaming them shut but ended up closing myself in, getting tangled in the red, suffocating plastic. I closed the water, opened up the curtains and stepped out to dry myself off. I walked back into my room, watching an old friend getting angry at someone, sitting in the pool arguing. When I was in the room, I confused a small window full of nails with a way out. I even tried to fit in it but the nail heads that were sticking out were piercing in my skin. I ambled to a living room where someone asked me if I had an ganja and I told them I did, since I remembered a small bag with three buds in it. The guy who asked got a scale out and I told him I wasn't a dealer and I was just doing him a favor. I went back to the room, now full of things, and looked for the bag but couldn't find it. I felt very obligated to provide this for him, but I wasn't very happy to find myself in the situation. Then I realized I could just wake up. I doubted for a moment, wishing to deliver the weed, but I just stepped out of the dream and....