THE ROSE BREATH OF THE WESTERN WORLD
File opened 9/4/95
A...
ANOTHER POEM ON THE LAMB OF GOD
ANOTHER WORM POEM
ART AS A
MEANS AND AN END
A SONG FROM THE PEOPLE OF CHIAPAS
B...
BACKWARD MOVEMENTS
D...
DAY AND NIGHT IN CHRIST
DIVINE
MEASUREMENTS
DON'T BLAME ME: ST. PAUL SAID IT
E...
ECSTATIC SUBSTITUTIONS
F...
FALL BACK, YES! DROP IN
G...
GOD IS CREATIVE GENIUS
GOD SEEKS THE LOVE
GOOD COMPANY ON THE WAY
H...
HAVING NO NEED, USING NO ONE
HOLY CONSCIOUSNESS
I...
I'M HIDDEN IN THIS OPENESS
IN THIS POETRY I KNOW GOD
I REST IN A DREAM AND THE DREAM MOVES ME
ISN'T IT ENOUGH TO LOVE?
I THINK JESUS WOULD APPROVE
I WRITE THESE POEMS
L...
LOVING WISDOM
M...
MANY ARE CALLED, FEW CHOSEN
MEDITATION UPON THE COLORADO STREET BRIDGE
O....
ON A DAY OF BIRTHING
ON SEXUALITY IN CHRIST
ON
THE FREE MOVEMENT OF CREATIVE WISDOM
OUR DELICATE WARS
OUR IDENTITY
R...
REMAINING TRUE
ROSE BREATH OF THE WEST
S...
SELF IS A WEB WOVEN BY ANXIETIES
SUNDAY OBSERVATIONS
T....
THE IDEALIST
THE FLUID MIND OF CHRIST
THE LILLY LOOK
THE MASK OF SELF
THE OLD ONES OF LOVE
(A Communion)
THE SOUL'S BLESSED ESSENCE
THIS WORK OF REMEMBERING
U...
UPON THE GREAT ADVENTURE
W...
WAITING IN THE WORK
WE ARE ECSTATIC ESSENCE
WE HAVE WAYS WE MOVE UPON
AND WITHIN EACH OTHER
WE MUST WALK IN REED SHOES
WE MUST WRITE POEMS TO BE HERE
WISE BLAMELESSNESS
WRONG IMAGES?
Y...
YOUNG WISDOM
YOUR SUNSHINE IN MY CLAY
Last Poem in the File:
THE OLD ONES OF LOVE
(A Communion)
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THE POEMS
I WRITE THESE POEMS THAT I MIGHT LOVE YOU
"I write these poems
because you are so precious,"
says the pearl to the sea
with round white words
upon its round white body.
The sea smiles blue smiles
and swims a song and a sigh
of little silver fishes by.
"I write these poems
that I might know you,"
says a cloud to the naked sky,
as it melts away its sadness
in a long, slow die...
"I write these poems
to be known,"
says
the ancient wind
to the lime green leaves
on a spring-sprung tree.
The tree's leaves rustle
with a mindless glee.
"I write this poem
to love you,"
says a poet to the crowd,
but who shall dare to sing it
out loud?
THE SOUL'S BLESSED
ESSENCE
What is the soul?
The soul is clear glass
full of flowing, fleeting images;
the soul is a vase
created to contain
the unfolding
rose bud of God.
That is its essence
in repose,
in a divine rest
from which the unquiet mind
is driven mad
with longing
for the blessed beauty
it feels
and sees.
ANOTHER WORM POEM
There is a worm that can never enter
the pure stream of God
for the worm is restless
and the stream is rest.
GOD SEEKS THE LOVE
God loves the love
that loves the Love
that longs
for Love in me:
and rest in Love
is all the fruit
of wild eternity.
Love is the relentless power
that brings a soul to rest
so beauty, joy
and Love's delight
may
tumble through its breast.
ANOTHER POEM ON THE LAMB OF GOD
There is a tender,
shy-eyed wisdom
that seeks to pour
her silver waters
of ecstatic rest
into the open, glass vase
of an empty soul.
There is a velvet flower
that only unfolds
in the effervescence
of these waters.
There is a drop of dew
on the lip of that flower
mirroring angels
in
all the earth and sky.
There is a shy-eyed face
hidden in everything.
ON THE FREE MOVEMENT OF CREATIVE WISDOM
There is an ecstasy
in open-hearted rest:
the blue breezes of day
sweep through unhindered
by stones;
the silver waters of wisdom
flood
through
quietly, wetting everything--
or come as a flash and spurt
shivering the belly
and the bones.
ROSE BREATH OF THE WEST
Why not live every day
in ecstatic emptiness,
in Eshoo's flowing fullness?
This sweet gentleness
of rose breath
is
God's rest:
It is the mitzvah of the Hebrews,
the flowering grace
in Francis's holy bosom--
it is the fragrant, unwavering flame
around
which Rumi twirled.
GOD IS CREATIVE GENIUS
God is pure, creative genius:
what else can I say about this One
but that?
When God wells up,
floods down,
envelopes in silk,
trickles through the naked core,
the images flow:
seeking to express
the transparency of the shiver,
the soft blow of rose breath
in blood and warm bones.
FALL BACK, YES! DROP IN
We can always keep
accepting,
always keep emptying,
always let the rose breath blow.
If a rat builds an muddled nest
in the mind, in the tight belly,
let
the wind carry it away.
If a cold stone drops,
let it tumble in a warm river.
If a worm eats into your apple,