Table of Contents
Of peace and its profusionDogs Who Keep the Morning
by Sam Silva
in the dreamy day,
in and out
of cave,
cocoon, and window
..body, light, and spirit move about
through air-cooled incandescence
...light and shadow in the bedroom knave!
A ghost's eternal presence
...and the nodding sleepy flesh
consumed by fleshly doubt
and bobbing off the headlights
in such mild and creamy light
as barely keeps a memory
of the struggles and the torment
come of night.
dish
by Yosh
and what happens when it all comes tumbling down
when all the things learned to feed into are false.
and these not be the concepts of morality
yet the American TV spirituality,
these things that filled the down time, now become the up time,
and the famous-actor-rockstar-curtsey is not enough.
and what happens when the money doesnt seem so tough?
I turned off the TV the other day,
leaving its stars in the satellite,
not accepting its bounce off the clouds,
to my dish, and into the box
I felt kinda funny at first.
looking around the room
filled with distractions
meant to do just that.
I turned off my computer even.
and blanked staringly into the silence
looking around for something,
anything, to fill the void.
I hid my music, my cigarettes, my book, my bong...
and found there was a sound there all along...
still, I didnt know what to do.
I took off all my clothes, and showering
put on new ones in their place.
Opened a new pack of underwear
as well new socks taboot
I cleanly dressed and combed my hair
and thought about life at its root.
I thought about a white blank sheet of paper
and the power it held in the world's eye
its nakedness as it dances within my desk,
until chosen to be written within a specific purpose.
Right then and there,
I decided to quit everything...
no more smoke, no more toke,
no more drink, much more think.
a beautiful day had turned outside,
as the morning mist had subsided
into nature's subconscious splendor
relating the possibility of simplicity
and the desire to awaken the stars.
when evening fell, I wandered miles
seeing the fleeting smiles,
of yesterdays sunshine.
I rose with the sun the morning after,
and within my laughter prayed,
that I was simply still, alive.
Images of the Staff
by Richard Denner
Surrounded by fire
circled by bears
metallic hell beings
screeching in my ears
I'm an old dog with long hair
in a pair of old shorts
taking a pee
in a SoBe bottle
On the inside of the cap, it says
"Who's lizard are you?"
I'm waking up—
who's lizard, indeed!
It's dark out there—
patterns consume me, so
I rest my attention
on my breath
In the gompa
with the altar
of the twenty-one Taras
I built to Tsultrim's specs
Silence pervades
except for the creaking
of supports and the cackling
of candle wax
I relax
but the woman next to me
is into heavy vajra breathing—
I make the best of this situation
Images of the staff arise in my mindstream
Paloma and I eat pancakes
in the Dove Café along 666
the Highway of the Beast
PHAT
Claire weeps in the garden—
searches for the sacred feminine
rolfing her fingers
into the soil of my shoulders
PHAT
Brian performs a TV commercial
a senile farmer selling discounted qi—
"If I can do it, you can do it."
qi is his cosmic buddy
PHAT
Mitzi, a bit scitzi
after what she's set in motion
goes askew— still
she serves with metta
PHAT
Brett searches for form
in content, content in form—
a tarp is refuge from the rain
a yawp is refuge from the pain
PHAT
Marta parades on the path
in her mantram pedal pushers—
an OM swinging behind
her swinging behind
PHAT
Reuben, blond Adonis
grounded, I'm glad
we're all connected—
he breaks down my tent
PHAT
Frances builds a batch
of brownies from the ground up—
chocolate oozing into candy
candy smoozing into kisses
PHAT
Aja writes in my notebook
Loving you
Loving me
Loving Tara
Loving we
PHAT
Tracie writes haiku
with the dementia of a drug fiend—
her shitmonk series, in the tradition
of Gary's bearshit on the trail poems
PHAT
I pass the torch to Josh
who's already on the job—
loading rock into his pickup
he's Mila's nynkypoo
As the singing bowl rings
I experience an expression
of emptiness and bliss—
An image of Jack
on the porch of his yurt
blowing the morning conch
stark naked
AH
From Loneliness to Solitude
by Ann Winter
We enter the world alone
We leave the world alone.
We stand before God alone.
Aloneness is a universal human experience
There is great value in standing alone.
Being aware of aloneness and not loneliness (which is negative)
Is a state not many us us achieve.
We fear being alone with ourselves.
We try to fill that void (avoid the void)
With distractions, people, noise, etc..
We fear the quiet path leading to our inner selves
And the dark side of our hearts.
But, it is in such solitude that we discover
Our inner riches and strengths
And discover too, the real person God has created.
In solitude we can find our true connection to God.
The desert is an image of solitude
Many go there to seek peace and joy.
Our hearts are receptacles furing these peaceful times
And nature can provide the space to be present with ourselves.
Other settings for the introduction of solitude
Are sunrises, sunsets, the ocean, rainbows, etc.
As the flower blooms in the silent desert
So may our hearts bloom in peaceful solitude.
Settle Down
by Reid Baer
Don't
go
Dancing
or
Romancing
your
Dreams
away ...
when
simple
or humble
means seem
to make
them
stay.
Letter to the Editor: Cherie Staples (skyearth1@aol.com).