Litkicks Message Board Archive

Dropping Things

Posted to Action Poetry

Leaves are turning down, falling dead down and floating
for few moments in the air like wingful angels all pure
and full of spirit letting light hit them and gaze
the beautiful spectrum which they provide in
heavenly abundance no pain from the fall, they
on glass rivers and boat their way down
Unfocused they look placid the stream there
obsidian glass floor and they, the leaves
are dancing toward their future as compost
on it but still stay adrift pleasantly
aware humbly living and flowing like Tao
Sun is peering through emerald, but it is an eye
and an unharmful one so I look to see
all colors in its Mohammed halo, savior and free
unbound star
Still lazy and frothing silent crossleggedly patient waiting for zazen
sitting next to a log which once held me
in perfect diameters hardly still abound
It is hard to think us separate, harder to think
of us as the same wilting wheel, outside
and being defeatedly crushed for deafness and blindness
and believing in dumbfound unsaintly odes
Setting in evening abundance the sunly star
wrapped like golden Cleopatra is growing thicker
and with more red heat soon to be retiring and closing
its doors
What is that name, clinging to burnt bones of suchness
that brings almighty holiness to contemplation and
gives winding perception of the full, autumn you
are setting yourself up you start to deleaf these trees
I am consciously afraid of you, you dream
of nothing and I know its nothing but still
its frightful to think all is nothing and it’s a blue blossoming
fertile plane but can existence enter into