deeper checks.
And no one has
to be afraid
when on this Path
the deal is made.
2.
Look on low
look on high,
see with Love’s
inhuman eye
not only charge
of opposites
(the broken heart
the healing fix),
but what engenders
every turn –
the leader on her
knees will learn.
And he who’s sick
with heavy thought
will cherish it
and fold his cot.
3.
Do not decode
these cries of mine –
They are the road,
and not the sign.
Nor deconstruct
my drugless high –
I’m sober but
I like to fly.
Then quickened with
my open talk,
you need not pick
the ancient lock.
4.
Mystery now,
and now Revealed
I bend to Thee
my will to yield,
and whisper here
my gratitude
for every tear
of restless mood;
Who let me breach
the walls of time
so I could touch
the ones to come
with wisdom that
my parents spoke
(established on an anecdote),
and shorthand of
the unborn mind
with Graceful effort
all combined.
5.
Undeciphered
let my song
rewire circuits
wired wrong,
and with my jingle
in your brain,
allow the Bridge
to arch again.
YOU ARE RIGHT, SAHARA
You are right, Sahara. There are no mists, or veils, or distances. But the mist is surrounded by a mist; and the veil is hidden behind a veil; and the distance continually draws away from the distance. That is why there are no mists, or veils, or distances. That is why it is called The Great Distance of Mist and Veils. It is here that The Traveller becomes The Wanderer, and The Wanderer becomes The One Who Is Lost, and The One Who Is Lost becomes The Seeker, and The Seeker becomes The Passionate Lover, and The Passionate Lover becomes The Beggar, and The Beggar becomes The Wretch, and The Wretch becomes The One Who Must Be Sacrificed, and The One Who Must Be Sacrificed becomes The Resurrected One, and The Resurrected One becomes The One Who Has Transcended The Great Distance of Mist and Veils. Then for a thousand years, or the rest of the afternoon, such a One spins in the Blazing Fire of Changes, embodying all the transformations, one after the other, and then beginning again, and then ending again, 86,000 times a second. Then such a One, if he is a man, is ready to love the woman Sahara; and such a One, if she is a woman, is ready to love the man who can put into song The Great Distance of Mist and Veils. Is it you who is waiting, Sahara, or is it me?
EARLY QUESTIONS
Why do cloisters of radiant nuns study your production, while I drink the tea called Smooth Move, alone in my cabin during the howling winter?
Why do you mount the High Seat and deliver an incomprehensible discourse on The Source of All Things, which includes questionable observations on the contract between men and women, while I sit on the floor twisted into the Lotus Position (which is not meant for North Americans), laying out the grid-lines of shining modern cities where, far from your authority, democracy and romance can flourish?
Why do you fall asleep when, in order to familiarize you with our culture, I screen important sex videos, and then when they’re finished, why do you suddenly wake up and say: “Study human love interesting, but not so interesting?”
Why can’t the Great Vehicle, which rolls so merrily through the quaint streets of Kyoto, make it up the switchbacks of Mt. Baldy? And if it can’t, is it any good to us?
Why do the irises bend to you, while dangerous pine cones fall from a considerable height on our unprotected bald heads?
Why do you command us to talk, and then talk instead?
It is because a bell has summoned me to your room, it is because I am speechless in the honour of your company, it is because I am reeling in the fragrance of some unutterable hospitality, it is because I have forgotten all my questions, that I throw myself to the floor, and vanish into yours.
– Mt. Baldy, 1998
THE MOON
The moon is outside.
I saw the great uncomplicated thing
when I went to take a leak just now.
I should have looked at it longer.
I am a poor lover of the moon.
I see it all at once and that’s it
for me and the moon.
SWEET TIME
How sweet time feels
when it’s too late
and you don’t have to follow
her swinging hips
all the way into
your dying imagination
FOOD TASTES GOOD
Food tastes good
but I’d rather not eat
Touching a beautiful young woman
is a great honour
in this vale of tears
forgive me if I pass on this
or take a rain check
Meditation calms the fevered heart
or so the advertising goes
but it drives me
up the wall
of gossip and breathlessness
Furthermore
I don’t want to be a friend to everyone
I haven’t got that much time
I’m fasting
I’m fasting secretly
to make my face thin
so G-d can love me
as He did before
I had the slightest interest
in these matters
FUN
It is so much fun
to believe in G-d
You must try it sometime
Try it now
and find out whether
or not
G-d wants you
to believe in Him
BASKET
You should go
from place to place
recovering the poems
that have been written for you,
to which ou can affix your signature.
Don’t discuss these matters
with anyone.
Retrieve. Retrieve.
When the basket is full
someone will appear
to whom you can present it.
She will spread her wide skirt
and sit down
on a black stone
and your basket will bounce
like a speck in sunlight
on the immense landscape
of her lap.
BY THE RIVERS DARK
By the rivers dark
I wandered on
I lived my life
in Babylon
and I did forget
my holy song
and I had no strength
in Babylon
by the rivers dark
where I could not see
who was waiting there
who was hunting me
and he cut my lip
and he cut my heart
so I could not drink
from the river dark
and he covered me
and I saw within
my lawless heart
and my wedding ring
I did not know
and I could not see
who was waiting there
who was hunting me
by the rivers dark
I panicked on
I belonged at last
to Babylon
then he struck my heart
with a deadly force
and he said, “This heart
it is not yours.”
and he gave the wind
my wedding ring
and he circled me
with everything
by the rivers dark
in a wounded dawn
I live my life
in Babylon
tho’ I take my song
from a withered limb
both song and tree
they sing for him
be
