Hallway to Nowhere

Category: poetry

  • Thoughts on the First Seal

    How would it be, to change our vision?

    We often ask (ourselves or god or the the universe)

    Why did this happen?

    We see an event as a particular discrete thing

    And usually when we query thus,

    Feel that it be extraordinary in some way.

    Often we seek some divine aid or give thanks for that perceived intervention.

    Consider if you will this possibility:

    There are no miracles nor curses. The playing field is level.

    A joyous birth equals a tragic death. The discovery of a vaccine equals the manufacture of a deadly weapon.

    And all equal the purchase of a cup of coffee.

    THESE ARE ALL ORDINARY. Shocking to write.

    Each came about in the same manner, with innumerable causes.

    They have no special quality in and of themselves,

    Though they do carry weight and impact, which we ourselves assign.

    We are the ones who decide what counts as remarkable,

    Either for reasons of evil or good, while we claim signs from some deity.

    If we choose to see this and acknowledge

    That everything is mundane and therefore also terrible and therefore also glorious,

    Then we can (perhaps) take a better path.

  • Brevity (Poem)

    We walk in bone fields of unknown dead

    And crush the shards of countless shattered dreams

    With each careless step.

    Occasionally someone stops,

    To whisper on the wind to those forgotten,

    “I remember. I remember.”

    A bird flying overhead might reply:

    “You have been those bones.

    Pick up whatever dreams you’ve lost and go on your way.

    You will forget again soon.”

    For a brief moment, the sun becomes radiant,

    And the earth shifts.

  • Wings (Poem)

    I want for you wings

    Seen only by you and those you choose.

    Let them be wondrously delicate

    With immense hidden power,

    Able to unfurl and carry you soaring

    On journeys filled with magic and delight.

    May they allow you

    To become a traveler of many realms,

    Unbound by convention and earthly concerns.

    As you glide through your days and nights,

    Listen for the trail of laughter and song

    That surely will follow.

    And no matter what might come,

    Ever remember that you can fly.

    (Written for R, also a poet.)

  • Heart Adventure (Poem)

    I swing my mala and throw it.

    It tears a hole in the fabric of this existence.

    The beads disappear one by one.

    I follow them,

    While reflecting on impermanence.

    I recite gate gate paragate

    As I evanesce.

  • Restless Mind (Poem)

    How to quiet my mind?

    It often seems like a flock of restless birds:

    The thoughts dart here and there, as they will.

    I breathe and bid them fly away,

    Yet they perch to preen and call,

    Gently mocking my efforts.

    Perhaps the greater wisdom

    Says simply to allow the birds

    To be as they are

    And expand my limited meditation.

  • Ethos Of An Incluse (Poem)

    This is why I prefer to avoid the hue and cry of crowds.

    The surface conviviality of group encounters

    Does not come easily to me.

    I would far rather engage with one person

    And have a brief but meaningful conversation.

    I am uninterested in simply oiling the mechanism of polite flow.

    Tell me something true and real that matters to you,

    Else simply smile (or not) and walk past.

    I like that better than chit-chat about the weather.

    Unless you are a farmer.

    Then the weather is of utmost importance.

    I’ve learned to listen, a most useful skill,

    And nod and make social-approval noises.

    Then I make my way home,

    Convinced more than ever

    That I am not really human

    And merely dwell among you,

    Always a stranger in a very strange land.

  • Deep Being (Poem)

    Layer upon layer upon layer

    Faceted as petals

    Endless as waves

    Infinite in time and space

    Breathe in, breathe out

    Rest in impermanence

    (Inspired By A Piece OF Nancy Garretson’s)

  • Late Summer (Poem)

    This is a time of abeyance,

    A lacuna before the coming of fall.

    The air shimmers with heat

    And the low buzz of insects.

    Rainfall offers little respite,

    Only plangent noise.

    How not to repine

    And search for a proem

    In cooler nights and darkening days?

  • Peripeteia (Poem)

    A slight anticipation, a catching of the breath,

    Heralds the moment of great change.

    The world tilts, and the possibilities

    Open myriad paths.

    What lies ahead on any of them?

    The only way to know is to proceed.

  • The State Of Not Being Present (Poem)

    The train sounds its mournful cry.

    They are gone now,

    No longer present to hear the whistle,

    To see the graffitied cars roll past,

    To feel the ground rumbling beneath their feet.

    I can say no more

    Let us have a cup of tea

    And offer the latest from China.

    But I can hold them fast

    In memory and by recounting the many stories

    Of how they lived while they were here.

    Love and all we shared does not disappear.