Sunday, October 26, 2008

Some favorites by Hafiz

There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that. In one well You have just a few precious cups of water, That "love" is literally something of yourself, It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost. Your love should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger, Only to someone Who has the valor and daring To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife Then weave them into a blanket To protect you. There are different wells within us. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far,  far too deep For that.
TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY Love wants to reach out and manhandle us, Break all our teacup talk of God. If you had the courage and Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights, He would just drag you around the room By your hair, Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world That bring you no joy. Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly And wants to rip to shreds All your erroneous notions of truth That make you fight within yourself, dear one, And with others, Causing the world to weep On too many fine days. God wants to manhandle us, Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself And practice His dropkick. The Beloved sometimes wants To do us a great favor: Hold us upside down And shake all the nonsense out.
But when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood" Most everyone I know Quickly packs their bags and hightails it Out of town. From: 'The Gift' Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Two Giant Fat People God And I have become Like two giant fat people Living in a tiny boat. We keep Bumping into each other 
and Laughing.
The Vintage Man The difference Between a good artist And a great one Is: The novice Will often lay down his tool Or brush Then pick up an invisible club On the mind's table And helplessly smash the easels and jade. Whereas the vintage man No longer hurts himself or anyone And keeps on sculpting Light.
To Build a Swing To build a Swing You carry all the ingredients To turn your life into a nightmare - Don't mix them! You have all the genius To build a swing in your backyard for God. That sounds like a hell of a lot more fun. Let's start laughing, drawing blueprints. Gathering our talented friends. I will help you With my divine lyre and drum, Will sing in a thousand words You can take into your hands, Like golden saws, Silver hammers, Polished teakwood, Strong silk rope. You carry all the ingredients To turn your existence into joy. Mix them, mix them!
A Potted Plant I pull a sun from my coin purse each day. And at night I let my pet the moon Run freely into the sky meadow. If I whistled, She would turn her head and look at me. If I then waved my arms, She would come back wagging a marvelous tail Of stars. There are always a few men like me In this world Who are house-sitting for God. We share His royal duties: I water each day a favorite potted plant Of His-- This earth. Ask the Friend for love. Ask Him again. For I have learned that every heart will get What it prays for Most. From: 'The Subject Tonight Is Love'

Before Frost 10/8/05

Flying things Gone now All before the frost Blanket of clouds Pressing low The glow of Columbus Distant pink and orange Horizon's delight Paints low clouds

Generosity: A Response

"My gift is my song/ And this one's for you" But I wonder if the song would light up your voice What gifts of mine make your heart sing Or want to speak for my honor And shall my honor be the permission to live in your house? Nothing is amiss To drive a man with your passionate logic, Too fiery to touch or slake Too intense to want to try Six months come and gone- I might as well be dreaming About this doing house My dreams were tied up in Intimacy: Shared space and Touch Challenge and Checking In That is my dancefloor That is my launch pad: Connected Souls Has my soul thrive I experience the universe with and through others Which magnifies my inspiration of the magnificent And as I seek to magnify my greatness in others and for others I sit full, yet unfull A full glass of wine alone on a table waiting to be slaked Were someone to be thirsty for me Several times per week I should pour myself down your throat

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Simple gifts is a Shaker song dedicated to the dance
Bless the dance
And bless you
Because you know how simplicity is wantonly overlooked
I see the televisions illuminate all my neighbors' rooms
And eyes
So let's dance amidst
This pale culture
You and I will be the spiced ones
We can be afraid
This might be 1984
It may be 1994
But I know how to make fire without matches
You know ambassadors
And I know how to make the earth give joy and life
And you know generosity
And I know canned tomatoes and hand pressed cider
And you know curry
Dancing amidst the flames is far more thrilling
Than Arthur Murray
To bow and to bend

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Snow on Bryden Road ~ My Birthday, 2005

Cold feathers fill the air,
Like a huge down comforter burst open
They hover, hesitate and rush
And seem careful not to collide in their dizzy flight
Their dance accelerates and slows 
As the downy crystals give away 
The invisible body of today's chill Zephyr
Spinning and stopping in their funny descent
Many slow to a float outside my third story dormer
Before their last ascent with the draft 
Up the yellow bricks 
Across the quiet street 
They're captured by ivy on the proudly-chiseled church:
An oddly flamboyant Romanesque
Never has a window ledge looked so Good
As on these snowy Old Town Victorians
Where this down has come fleetingly to rest;
A yin for the stubborn church's yang
A white blessing on the noble houses in the neighborhood
This old house is scarcely immune to the the soft, soft wind
A body of cold in the dormer where I write
The house's old furnace can't do any more to beat back the sapping cold
Or convince it to be more excited
The cold hurries my chilled-stiff fingers
And makes me want to move
Which sparks a broader thought-
No wonder the seasonal regions are so prone to industry!

We on a Road through Privilege ~31 October 2002

We on a road through privilege,
Simplicity and deprivation
Grow up with many shepherds
Desiring that greener pasture
Desiring to escape the shepherd
Desiring a new flock,
Mile by mile
You or I
Alone in yellow woods
You or I
Through familiar fields
Pause one day
And look how far you've come
Come home
Come far.
The wilds made me wilder
The thorns an brambles too
Impart strange, strong wiseness
Amidst the painful scars
I thank them all
My hope and despair
You friends and fortune
Along the way
My shepherd
Standing tall
So fond and so sad.
Twenty two summers
Seen flame to fall
And rivers ice
And iced through fur
And returning robins
Your dewed-through toes
My fond and sad shepherd
You've been there too
Watching and loving
Seen too the passing
Of shepherds
And flocks
And seasons
And all fond and sad

Thank You / 28 Sept 2002

Faster winds bring 
Changing smells
And their tickle
Tells my body
Not to stop remembering
That quick fire
From a warm memory
In my body
It's such good food
And I want to chew it slowly
And thank it for having been
And being
Thank you
For blurring the lines on my clock
And softening the edges
Of my hard day

I See the Sad Sky / 15 December 2002

i see the sad sky
and think of you-
and warm love
my happy friend
in times past
my lifesaver
laying still my aggravated mind
and aggravating my stilled mind
breaking the death of silence
silent is the growing one
we become
by being friends
and touching
meeting under sad skies
dancing during hard times
in clothes that do not fit
in a world that does not have us
as much as we have it
and i know no one
no one who knows
how we understand each other
is there a just us?
in my heart there will be 
till the day i die

Another Searching Poem 14 November 2002

Another searching poem
Another tale
Another hope for healing
As long as my mind works
As long as there is confusion
As long as I desire to find myself
I will write
And play
And negotiate
For my mass of happiness
For excellence
For logos
Searching ever
In the things I do

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Coupe de Cheveux Lesbienne

Montreal Lesbian Haircuts. Thank you sandcastlematt.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Heron at sunrise

Heron at sunrise
Originally uploaded by 8230This&That
Credit to fellow flickrer 8230THis&That Chesapeake Bay Beach. The poetry of the heron's movement.

Monday, May 26, 2008


Wichtig ist die Seele frei
Wo sie gerürhrt werden kann
Von mir und von dem anderen Mann
Der eigentlich nicht so anders ist
Wenn Du offen bist
Komm' reiß auf
Schultern hinten
Und Armen den Hüften d'rauf
Steh mit mir
Und lächel' bis alle wollen mit Dir
So werden wir
Es immer schaffen
Besser als kahlste Waffen