HE HAS PUT HIS WORD UPON MY LIPS
Wind blows out of my mouth.
A River flows out of my mouth.
A Lamb springs forth from my mouth.
A Lion leaps out of my mouth.
Fire falls from my mouth.
Seven Swords piece my mouth.
A Lover bends and kisses my mouth
and ten thousand stars fall into
a still, lucid pool of light.
The pool blazes!
All the creatures of God
spring up out of that pool
singing forth their animal voices
THINK OF THE CAT
Sensitivities for the daylight
are developed in the dark of the night.
Think of the cat!
Be nocturnal with God.
Develop big eyes,
and when the day comes
light will ring upon nerves
like silver bells.
Ah! the musical ecstasy
of God's pattering light!
A MEDITATION ON MEISTER ECHART
Were we conceived in laughter
by Divine joy
down in the belly of God?
Is it God's holy laughter
which shakes out beings
in a discharge of clear light
--which act we call birth
When we pour out ourselves as a blessing,
we are poured into ourselves as the blessed.
Last week's glory is already full of worms
and death-thoughts of knowledge.
How the worms hunger for the heavenly food.
No-eyed, their suction cupped mouths
cover little snapping beaks
which tear at the lacy white waffers.
They bore their bodies inside by devouring,
and wriggle, hidden in the food of angels.
UPON ART IN THIS WORLD
The blind singer sat dumb
and thirsting in the araba
until he ground dry bread into his eyes
and his mouth gaped upon the wind.
Then clear, honeyed water seeped out of stone.
Sucking water, he sang.
The dying drew near
and found the rock.
They drank and named it
the singing stone.
Spurning the dry bread
and the wind
they sucked upon the stone...
and soon died.
TO BE WITH EYES LIKE FLAMES OF FIRE
Make me to remember!
The smallest mouse of a meek soul
brown and plain, unassuming
not flashing in the eye its sinuous flesh;
but fat, pimply, unsure,
unable to meet gaze with gaze,
darting the eyes down--
this one is longed for by God!
This one is the greatest treasure of His graces.
This one is the very one He envisions everlastingly
bursting forth like a white sun;
clothed with silver moonlight;
with hair like falling fire;
with eyes like the bells of the Pleiades;
with nose like lilac blossoms;
with neck like Greek alabaster;
with breasts like bounding lambs;
with belly like thistledown;
with thighs like summer winds;
with feet like leopards.
UPON THE HIGHEST ASSURANCE
I am not like God.
I am not so secure in my own loving being
that I can withstand all rejection,
all evil blasts
until my beloved comes
to love me in return.
I am a wounded creature
who needs to be upheld
in the graces of love.
I need to be loved....
Yet I am loved!
Beyond all telling,
I am loved!
And as I face my deepest fears,
and as I face my greatest pain,
I know more fully
--into all freedoms--
I am loved!
Though my parents should forsake me,
God will bear me up.
Though a mother should forget her nursing child,
God shall not cast me from Her breast.
Though a man, out of hardness or pain,
should turn from a woman,
God shall never turn from me, His bride,
until I am healed and holy,
courageous and wild
in the disciplined beauties
of His free Kingdom.
WELCOME TO THE INNER CIRCLE
A starry sound
blows through the King's countenance:
every facial line, light etched,
every demeanor, demure.
This King rules
His ancient Kings
and young, ancient Queens
who have forgotten his face.
But he shall recall them...
through images, and shadowy illusions,
and unexpected flights of fancy,
and the numinous.
Therefore, the fun and frolic
of galloping bliss
is reserved for times
of stories and rhymes
with his princely child,
or that woman wild,
who can steal his heart
with a kiss.
The turquoise sea flows up foaming to my feet.
Day after day, while it is today, it calls to me
to cease the island that has been my home
and wade into the warm waters
--that clear bath! All sea creatures
who are awake swim knowingly,
unbound in the limitless blanket of the sea
that is in all directions stitched unbrokenly.
These are the free creatures:
The red lobster dances out of his hole;
the blue and gold tropical fish
joyfully interweave in miraculous water patterns;
a small brown shark nuzzles the sand and is comforted;
the white dolphins are always laughing!
I must ease down into these waters!
Dark eyed natives on the beach scream out to me.
They are afraid I shall not return to them again.
The white foam caresses my ankles.
The light blue waters lap my loins.
The wet, warm embrace about my belly stuns me with peace.
As the flashing waters flood over my chest to cover my hair
I sense limitless music moving in wild currents.
It is the sea, the sea, the unbreakable sea!
ABOUT THAT WOMAN THE WHOLE DEAD WORLD FEARS
Maria lies in squalor,
big with child, panting;
sweat glistening upon her face and lips,
her muscles quivering, eyes huge.
Should a child be born into a cardboard house?
This one should!
Her cervix opens like the moon,
like the sun - and the killing child descends.
Water bursts out of the crevasse of her loins
into the arroyo of the world.
Flames lick in the water
and burn her whole house down!
Her flaming roof falls away
and the stars rush down upon her
to suckle at her large white breasts.
Her whole body tenses now like a hunting cat.
She arches up to look upon her loins
and shakes with pain and joy.
Her swelling opens like a bud.
She falls back upon the wet stones
and rests forever.
Her child breaks through singing.
The whole creation is in his voice.
The world dies!
GOLD WEAVERS IN THE MIRROR OF THE SUN
PART I. THE JOURNEY - DRINKING BLOOD
There is a revolution of Spirit needed!
Forgiveness! Grace! Justice! Order! Compassion!
Make your heart as clean as sea breeze.
Make your mind as clear as polished glass.
How? To the Holy things--lifewise!
This is a whole life's journey,
from the twisted gray labyrinth
to the mirror of the Sun.
But the juice, the red juice,
the warm red juice of God
pours into your mouth
and runs down your throat.
And you are fresh as a child
to leap through this journey!
The blood of God's Word
flowed through Christ's veins
and bled out in our world
to hover 'neath our brains.
Drink rivulets of cleansing blood
and find the royal son.
Drink deeply the sweet red blood
and be the radiant One,
the woman-child bride whose soul must sing
as her heart senses the King.
PART II. THE WORK - GOLD WEAVERS
"The whole creation labors together -
waiting, waiting, travailing in childbirth
groaning for the manifestation of the sons of God."
Paul of Tarsus
We are not envisioned as we are!
There are living ideas
inviolate in God's mind!
This God who sees dense, gray stones
to be as luculent as stars.
This God who sees that apple tree to be all afire
with the immanence of an inexplicable beauty.
Yet the tree is dying in time
for lack of some pure woven gold connection
to link it unbreakably to that clarity
which is deathless and older than the world.
See that man. He is a car salesman.
Yet God has made him to be a noble and just prince.
He has committed to him the golden threads.
The man weaves God's threads tenderly
into his children's hearts.
And he weaves to reunite an old dying woman
to the timeless girl she is.
Watch as he labors to weave gold into the stone mind
of a homeless man.
Let us who know her, dress in snowy ermine
that little sister who checks out groceries
for she is of royal blood!
She is already making some small connections,
newly being made a gold weaver and a mender.
She smiles openly into your eyes
for she has come to drink
the sweet, red juice of God.
It is the wine of Christ's blood.
She can drink it out of the light of her dog's eye
for she sees that dog is all love!
See, he laps up life from her eyes and becomes!
as she mirrors his mirror
in the mirror of the Sun.
THE HUMBLE WINDOW CLEANER
Polish and shine.
Spit and polish and shine;
upon the scaffolds of faith he stands
(polish and shine)
and sings his joy!
Polish and shine,
polish and shine
until an inwrought radiance
shimmers through the glass.
And its reflection is seen
as a diamond-like dawn
rising in every leaf,
in every eye.
sinking down to the deep door.
At the slow rapping
Say thank you
and I love you
and listen to the eternal echo
say, "Thank you",
and, "I love you."
Then know that you too have been
a wondrous echo in time
of that eternal voice.
Say yes to your own back door,
--that place of hidden sunrise--
and flashes of eternal day will be in your eyes.
Say yes to night
and rest in starlight,
content in faint starlight,
loving pale starlight,
because, though it is dim,
it is ancient light.
And a light older than stars
THERE IS A MUSICAL WAY TO THE TRUTH
There is a musical way to the truth
for truth is musical.
As musical as God is.
Whose being harmonizes?
Who connects all things in wonder?
What spotless mirror
shimmers unbrokenly everywhere?
Light is silent music.
When light sings silently
through our loving eyes
all creatures join the song,
for every cell of every body
is made for the music of the light.
See the dancing dog
being loved into eternity!
See the swallow sing as it sails the melodious breeze.
See the leaping dolphin always laughing in its love.
Hear the whale's intelligent song--it is a lullaby!
The prayer that does not beg
but believes God courageously,
starts the prancing horse
dancing down trails of starlight.
Can you love a pig into heaven?
The Kingdom is here!
The Kingdom is here!
The music of God is singing clearly!
Where love burns in a tree:
that tree's leaves heal.
Where love flows within a river:
that water makes bind eyes see.
Where a farmer loves his little lamb:
that lamb saves him.
Were a lion is beheld in the fear of awe:
the King of Creation is revealed.
Oh Lord, Thy Kingdom Come On Earth
As It Is In Your Heaven!
Where God is all in all in all!
Oh hie dee-do dee fiddle dee dee,
the creatures of God are in love with me.
Oh hie dee-do dee fiddle dee gin,
creation is loved--Let The Music Begin!
THIN BROWN WOMAN WALK WITH ME
Thin brown woman
walk with me.
and sing your ancient earth song.
And listen to the wild geese in me,
tell you sky cries
and what is in the wind.
(Your warm brown eyes, they nurture me.)
I wish to slowly walk with you
that we might together tell
what things must happen
for high sky fire to seep into earth
and mingle with the deep fire
I see smoldering underneath
the thin skin of your eyes.
WAKE UP GRANDFATHER THAT WE MIGHT THINK
Wake up Grandfather
that we might think in starlight,
and in that soft, silver-light
talk of He whose flock is the stars.
We shall ask nothing of Him
but the beauty of His eyes
and that soft, feminine glory
of dark, moist skies.
WE MUST CREATE TIME FOR EPIPHINES
Down in the depths of all things
is the Word,
that seamless eternal miracle
which is the yearning,
the creative longing
of God to be enfleshed,
to be loved, known
and liberated freely
by his free creatures
into His own creation.
Dive down deep.
We must create time
The sin of man
is the negation of the deep
and its luminous language.
Diving is God's way,
to find God's Christ
and to liberate Him
for the world.
For we are faith creators:
meant to liberate him into sky,
into the core of a tree,
into the eyes of a cow,
into the face of a lion,
and the heart of a child....
But we are a frenzied race,
water bugs skittering about
upon the surface of things,
enamored by shiny reflections
on the tension of the surface.
And so, we do not dive.
Down then together
to where the Spirit is surging up
freely through the depths
into the high pure longings
of the luminous Word.
Down deep, below forbidding icy currents,
divers know that waters turn warm and luminous.
There are soft, kind eyes watching there
when the ebony depths burst their bottoms out
swiftly into translucent skies;
when water currents become wind
and bright fish transfigure into birds.
We are a strange race,
so squared against our own good.
We are a bent race,
undone safety pins no longer holding up
the diapers of our minds.
We spill our mental load on the ground
and make the air feculent
with the waste of our lives.
To not think luminous thoughts
is to leave luminous deeds undone;
to silence light-born words
Down to where the pearls are then!
Let us be pearl divers!
Breathe your breath and dive deep.
The priceless pearl is clear and silvery
in the throat of a yawning shell.
Believe in diving and dive
down to where turquoise waters break out into wind.
Can you hear bright fish singing?
We must dive down to save the one who saves
and liberate the one who sets us free.
He waits for us to venture down
to where He is manacled at the bottom of our sea.
We have bound him there
with the irons of our beliefs
for we have dreamt the wrong world!
Down then, come let us go together
to where the Spirit-tide is surging!
We will break His chains
and His ancient gleaming tides of light will
burst out into the world
and fragrant fountains will burble out each eye.
Then full tides will coarse
to uncrinkle every withered body,
and tides will surge through every crimped mind
unwrinkling crumpled souls
suddenly flushing secret spirit pains away.
And bright birds will burst out praising everywhere,
loosened in God's watery winds,
on drumming wings they will descend with sudden singing,
beating down into our throats!
Down then, let us go together
to where the Spirit is surging
from the depths
with the high pure longings
of God's luminous Word!
and you will touch a miraculous
mask of flesh.
and you will uncover flashes and shadows
of my soul.
Love God through me
and I shall become
a momentary mirror of the sun.
A PRELUDE AND A MORNING PRAYER
A rooster strutted on a rickety fence.
Gray hush was on the fields,
broken occasionally by the dark voice of a bird.
The rooster opened his yellow beak, panting for the dawn,
and rolled his red eyes up to the dim morning sky.
Suddenly his crow zigzagged like lightning across the yard
and struck the ears of a young carpenter
whose eyes quietly rolled inside their lids
as his mind shifted from dreams to reveries.
Light was fluttering through his mind like pale birds.
He opened his eyes from that light
to the slow growing light of day.
"Ah, God again,"
he spoke, and the still air shuttered.
He arose, wrapped linen around his waist
and poured water from a pitcher
into a clay basin.
Rivulets ran from his hair as he walked out
into the first burst of sunlight
which painted the courtyard gold.
He stared briefly into the low streams of light,
water beads glistening in his beard.
Mary came from the house with his robe.
Her almond eyes were soft, still murky with sleep.
She touched his wet hair and smiled.
He took his robe and smiled at her,
then walked out into the gray mists
laying upon the fields of Nazareth.
"Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord our God is one!"
The Words leapt out of the dawn like golden lions!
He flung his arms to the sky as his knees sank into the furrows..
"And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
and all your soul, and all your might..."
The great, golden lions were upon him, devouring him with light.
And throughout the town, which stirred awake behind him,
shadows of the words skittered about like gazelles.
"And you shall love your neighbors as you love yourself..."
the shadows quietly cried.
There, upon his knees, with his face upraised,
bathed in light, he outstretched his arms like wings
and let the lion's voices tear upon him, roaring louder, louder,
while the soft voices of the shadows
kept on calling, calling...
A FEW MORE COMMENTS UPON ISAIAH THE PROPHET'S VISIONS
When the towers fall and idols crumble
and all the haters of truth
shrink in the small dry shells of their illusions;
when the devouring beast is revealed to be the beast
as its surface beauty plunges away;
when the light of the sun shines seven times as bright
and the light of the moon blazes into the eyes--
then shall a still small voice shout
and thunder forth in absoluteness,
and the word spoken shall be real!
and turn the world upside down.
When the quiet King comes forth
in His full majesty beyond the shadows,
and the shadow land melts
in the fires of His Being,
and the dark spirit-masters of deceit
are blasted like billiard balls scattering
--swarming like mindless gnats
flung down an abyss of flames--
then shall children
sing to the sound of an angel's voice,
and it shall be of such pure beauty
that all souls will be recreated in the hearing.
Then shall eyes open like windows open
to the fresh wind and light of the golden rising.
And faces shall began their endless shining.
And bodies shall glow with the light of God's love.
And Holy light shall feast in colors,
and the colors shall weave into living garments
to bedeck royal children with King's splendors.
Then shall spiritual rivers flood down from the sky
and the peoples shall drown in joy
and die to death in the fullness of life
as the shadows of delusion are extinguished.
Then shall the merry Kingdom commence
in the presence of the Universal King, our Maker!
He who was crucified has fulfilled God's Word:
the humbled are set free in a disciplined wind,
and the pride of all evil is gone from the mind.
UPON GOD'S PRESENCE
Comfortable in flesh or out
the flame sits silently.
A wind blows over rocks and sea;
the child plays carelessly
as the spirit banters about.
HUMAN THOUGHT IS NEVER TRUTH ITSELF
Thought must partake of that shimmering fountain
beyond all thought.
The naked bride simply
dips into the sacred stream.
Limpid waters flow over the thighs and breasts
of her mind--
and she is clean.
A SONG AT THE EPOCH OF AGES
Sing the holy peasant
and the place of his work.
Sing the board and bed
and those who prayed a radiant book.
Sing those alive, though dead,
and what they've found and what they seek.
Sing of ages gone,
(and the common sin in which they floundered),
make your song lean
with truth and beautiful things remembered.
Recover where we must be going
from a dim, yet luminous past...
the values we must be
for our world to last.
DAY SLIDES IN
Day slides in as a smooth blue beauty
amidst the silent sound of a final star.
Cattle resonate the air with nasal noises.
An audible weaving is observed:
the burping of a bird;
the sharp rap, rap of a dog;
the creaking of duck wings in the cool yellow distance;
a coughing, black, "Caw, caw",
and then... God's alarm clock crows!
By creation's magic
the heart unfolds into a natural worship
as God designed.
I observe it in deepening sensitivities.
Yet, what is this? But how can this be?
Is this my own heart that is being poured out
as a smooth blue beauty
amidst the silent roar of a star?
IT ONLY TAKES LIFE AND DEATH
It's so simple
and so profound -
It only takes the fully unleashed working
of life and death:
God in my thinking;
God's order in my logic;
God's purposes in my reasoning;
God's wings in my imaginings;
God's truth in my speaking;
God's self in my longings;
God's care in my feelings;
God's works in my memories;
God's dreams in my hopes;
God as water in me cleansing;
God as rest in me refreshing;
God as fire in me burning;
God in my choosing;
God in my yielding;
God in my responding;
God in my doings;
God's glory in my creating;
God as my breath;
God's blood in my veins--
God as my life!
A WIND SONG
The wind blows out of the gates of the heart
and into the gates of the day
and the lonely heart is blown apart
and the sad heart withers away.
For this wind laughs and this wind sings
with all the good things that it brings,
as bursting over the country side
it pours through gates that open wide
to take it back from where it starts,
this wind that blows through the place of the heart.
So back it flies through secret places
where heart gates open to wind-blown graces.
Then the wind blows out of the gates of the heart
and into the gates of the day,
and the lonely heart is blown apart
and the sad heart withers away.
THESE ARE MEDITATIONS AND ARE PRAYERS
These are meditations and are prayers,
hot to hew slick stone
in the places of the heart;
to crease earth like the crooked plough
and furrow deeper into the dark.
These are meditations and are prayers
with an inaudible roar, like a slight sea shell roar,
yet sounding somewhere like blood frenzied bull rings.
This is a bellowing below to the brilliance
of He who broods above
the terrible blinding sapphire of a flashing firmament:
He whose fire-filled face has flooded
out full-blooded creatures through the laughter
of his lips; He whose being burns as burnished copper:
for in his loins, and above his loins fumes a fire,
and below his loins, flames fragrant fire!
These are meditations to the mysteries there,
where a crowd of inconceivable creatures fly full-flung
like bolts of lightning in white oil.
Six winged they are, and bizarre in meditations.
The full force of a light-breathed wind bursts from their faces
and exalts their piercing pinions heavenward.
Ox-faced, they patiently plow the human heart.
Eagle-faced, winds erupt up limitlessly
under their wings to fling them unfurled
through the radiant back-diamond-doors of wind-blown souls.
Lion-faced, they pounce upon the sleep of us
to devour our savory flesh and bones
until light leaps up like a wounded tiger torn from the carcass.
Man-faced, they graciously gather us in the quiet Kirk
of kitchen gardens
to tell us tales of momentous mundaneness
which serves to steady the meticulous movements of stars.
They speak, and their words are simple wheat and butter,
silver needles slipping thread through garments,
the cut of carpentry tools,
the slice of a scythe through grass.
They appear in the earth fume and fragrances of a barn.
Hands from under their fabulous feathers
clasp the quiet cow's udder, then stroke the blue ears
and touch the matted muzzle of a mealy dog
as they turn their sunshine gaze
slowly up upon the cacophonous cries of the love-crazed children
hilarious and high in the hay.
All this constant, Yes! while the world spins on
aching sick and aweless
in a sloven slue...
These are meditations and are prayers,
to hew stone and turn the succulent soil
with words hidden in the hot, fleshly
flame of a human heart.
sloven: untidy, dirty
slue: to turn around a fixed point
I--BUT LIKE HAY
To start--the hay:
high blown--wind sought--
and born to climb cloud high.
I--but like hay--day gold
of sun burning growth
to the green stalk--
till the dry
click of a sudden stick
of hollow hay
is wind torn
to the blue smear
of a sudden,
LUST IS A CHEAP EXCUSE FOR NOT LOVING
the bellowing eyes
blow beauty out,
as the honey-filled breasts
rest in a milky gown.
Yet oil from the eyes
makes goose wing winds
whip over buttery yellow coals
until, blown white hot,
a virgin bird springs singing
out of fire into ears.
Then, hearing collapses
cold, checkered floors
and ice walls drop
down into deepening fires.
IN LOVE FRESH ZEALS
(On Spiritual War)
We stood on cold, glass mountains
and cracked ebony angels
with innocent fire
and shouts of Hosanna!
shivered us with joys.
When fire falls silently
through frosted glass,
it booms out word-wise
till the child is fresh.
When big eyes sing of huge worlds
and hot miracle making
above the chilled, silent walls of glass,
golden balls break leathery skulls
to let harmless children pass.
SEVEN SACRED SPIRITS NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT
The seven sailing spirits
like silent candles stand
burning in the sweet mood
of God's good.
And in the uproarious light
of these sacred seven
God births beings
into bright Heaven.
TO THE RAPID RIVER 'ROUND US
Out from a quiet sea
flows the rapid river:
the motion of time’s change—
though now the secret, sacred center,
out of which God’s angels saunter,
to most of us seems strange—
still the rapid river runs
to merge with the quiet sea:
the source of all the Love to be.
MAN SHALL NOT LIVE BY BREAD ALONE
Can you smell the hot bread
of God's name?
Then let some warm, golden honey
flow from your heart
over His name.
Now eat the Name of God.
UPON MOUNTAINS OF GLASS GROWS A RADIANT FOREST
A soft, consuming fire
dreamt away the wood
until all that remained
were ashes, and the thought of wood.
And the thought of wood itself
was heat and light
and had always dreamt of fire
until the soft consuming flame
came to burn away the wood and find itself.
There grows upon high, distant mountains of glass,
a radiant forest.
I AM A BUSY SPIDER
I am a busy spider
constantly weaving the web
of my own bondage:
a silken thread coming from my bowels
made of knowledge, accomplishment,
the identities men would give me,
the ones I greedily snatch:
I creep around in the dark,
ugly, six legged,
a fat and frightening spider
climbing bent grass and crooked branches,
And yet, even while I busily attach
new strands of sticky web
to sticks and stones,
I gaze up to the skies
and watch beautiful birds soaring.
I can hear their singing,
and I think,
"If only a bird would swoop down and eat me.
Then I would be happy."
But, I fear the birds!
AS SHE SANG GERSHWIN
and God took her apart,
flesh from bone before my eyes.
I saw her sinews,
the inner chambers of her chest
moving out visually in the stream
of her song.
I journeyed into the house of her body,
on the emanation of her soul
which was like a beam
of brown and golden light
slowly rushing into my eyes.
God was wholly loving her body
--and she didn't know it!
This was all I was shown,
there, inside the song house
of her soul.