My pink, ripe naked feet
blithely dawn
after hundreds of years
of dark, stifled longings
These gurus know something I don't
The Tarahumara Indians glide through
the canyons of the Sierra Madres
just like the ancestors did
Shoeless - more or less
And the yogis rub their paws with oil,
and stand on one and grab the other with their hand -
Dancer Pose,
Natarajasana
And, back to the wisdom of mountain pose,
the original ground of being,
awakening abeyant discrimination
The barefoot sisters walked from Maine to Georgia
and back again - Barefoot
Barefoot!
No shoes
or socks
or flip flops
or boots!
An imprint of my indigo hooves
remains
on birth papers
or maybe a golden-framed certificate
Tiny, baby feet
Slowly became prisoners of shoes
And fear
And swallowed silences
Feet!
Gurus of ten thousand paths,
And endless source of being and doing,
Show me the way, the truth and the light!
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
PAP's Apocalyptic Grin
Why is it that you inspire me to poetry, Port-Au-Prince?
Is there even one single unit of beauty left in your withered bones?
Is your sweat full of a sweet fragrance I cannot smell?
Are there diamonds sparkling in the mountains of rocks called roads?
The ti machann arranges her previously used pillows on the ground, for sale,
on top of the rubble that has been here hundreds of years
The rebar is a relic of the most brutal French colonialism
You used to be adorned with pearls,
but now your necklaces are made of plastic bottles and candy wrappers
on a string that has almost but not quite given up
Maybe it is your new tarpulein dresses laced with the latest prints of USAID
Or, the UN gunmen from Sri Lanka and Canada and South Korea
who are driving around with nothing to do but point their guns
at no one and everyone
I think that it must be that apocalyptic grin that seduces me
That "this is what the end of the world looks like" knowing in your eyes
Is there even one single unit of beauty left in your withered bones?
Is your sweat full of a sweet fragrance I cannot smell?
Are there diamonds sparkling in the mountains of rocks called roads?
The ti machann arranges her previously used pillows on the ground, for sale,
on top of the rubble that has been here hundreds of years
The rebar is a relic of the most brutal French colonialism
You used to be adorned with pearls,
but now your necklaces are made of plastic bottles and candy wrappers
on a string that has almost but not quite given up
Maybe it is your new tarpulein dresses laced with the latest prints of USAID
Or, the UN gunmen from Sri Lanka and Canada and South Korea
who are driving around with nothing to do but point their guns
at no one and everyone
I think that it must be that apocalyptic grin that seduces me
That "this is what the end of the world looks like" knowing in your eyes
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Facebook Mind
Today I became a fan of...
lazy summer nights
snow days
and the spiciest salsa
money can buy
My friends know me well!
Same with the friends
of my friends
Martinis in Santa Barbara?
Thumbs up!
I don't think I want that kind of connection with my past
I don't think that person is well
She is obsessed with exercising
I always loved his wit
I never knew this side of him
My God, I miss New Orleans
Why did I ever move away?
It's Jazzfest time!
I'm so jealous
God, these people here suck
Damn, I wish I could delete that
I hope people won't misunderstand me
I'm much more clever than that
My religious beliefs are
"dancing in the stream" and
"floating like a cloud"
Do I want them to know my age?
I really don't think I know this person
Who is this person?
I would very much like to be friends with her
She hates her job
and had a terrible day
He is obsessed with posting links about robots
She thinks we are living
in momentous times
She is counting down the minutes
until 5 o'clock
And wondering what the French are doing
on this Bastille day
On the road to Utica!
Visiting the fam in Seattle!
Lovin' every minute of it!
Can't get out of bed
without her Starbucks
I didn't know she was such a corporate sucker
She should get a clue and find a local coffee shop
She was always a follower
Probably never had an original thought
Is it 5 o'clock somewhere?
He has got to get some sleep
I think some of those old faces are haunting me
We are in a conversation of sorts
Where is the avant-garde in this cyber-village?
I'm a fan of that lady's lipstick
She thinks a veggie corndog
might be the answer
He's just taken another quiz
and has learned something
important about himself
"Who knew that if I was a literary hero
I'd be Holden Caufield?"
Getting ready for work
Slipped on the ice
And fell on my ass. Ouch!
Get well soon
Dude, that sucks
How will this ever end?
Packing for a trip
Making dinner
Getting ready for the opera
Planting a garden
I think I am very clever
I'm too hip for this
I have a problem, I can't stop
Just got home from Tennessee
Missing the food in San Francisco
Dreading the dentist
Why is there a happiness narrative?
Why must people always be doing something?
Why do we have to tell everyone about it?
Americans share too many thoughts
Why must we narrate our lives?
I think we should hold our dreams a little closer
Last night she dreamed her hard drive crashed
There's not enough tragedy here
No, it's all tragedy
He says zany things
She is such a curmudgeon
That person should never have reproduced
That mind should not be replicated
She is training for a marathon!
lazy summer nights
snow days
and the spiciest salsa
money can buy
My friends know me well!
Same with the friends
of my friends
Martinis in Santa Barbara?
Thumbs up!
I don't think I want that kind of connection with my past
I don't think that person is well
She is obsessed with exercising
I always loved his wit
I never knew this side of him
My God, I miss New Orleans
Why did I ever move away?
It's Jazzfest time!
I'm so jealous
God, these people here suck
Damn, I wish I could delete that
I hope people won't misunderstand me
I'm much more clever than that
My religious beliefs are
"dancing in the stream" and
"floating like a cloud"
Do I want them to know my age?
I really don't think I know this person
Who is this person?
I would very much like to be friends with her
She hates her job
and had a terrible day
He is obsessed with posting links about robots
She thinks we are living
in momentous times
She is counting down the minutes
until 5 o'clock
And wondering what the French are doing
on this Bastille day
On the road to Utica!
Visiting the fam in Seattle!
Lovin' every minute of it!
Can't get out of bed
without her Starbucks
I didn't know she was such a corporate sucker
She should get a clue and find a local coffee shop
She was always a follower
Probably never had an original thought
Is it 5 o'clock somewhere?
He has got to get some sleep
I think some of those old faces are haunting me
We are in a conversation of sorts
Where is the avant-garde in this cyber-village?
I'm a fan of that lady's lipstick
She thinks a veggie corndog
might be the answer
He's just taken another quiz
and has learned something
important about himself
"Who knew that if I was a literary hero
I'd be Holden Caufield?"
Getting ready for work
Slipped on the ice
And fell on my ass. Ouch!
Get well soon
Dude, that sucks
How will this ever end?
Packing for a trip
Making dinner
Getting ready for the opera
Planting a garden
I think I am very clever
I'm too hip for this
I have a problem, I can't stop
Just got home from Tennessee
Missing the food in San Francisco
Dreading the dentist
Why is there a happiness narrative?
Why must people always be doing something?
Why do we have to tell everyone about it?
Americans share too many thoughts
Why must we narrate our lives?
I think we should hold our dreams a little closer
Last night she dreamed her hard drive crashed
There's not enough tragedy here
No, it's all tragedy
He says zany things
She is such a curmudgeon
That person should never have reproduced
That mind should not be replicated
She is training for a marathon!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Manatee/Humanity
Just returned from a weekend retreat at Zen Mountain Monastery at Mt. Tremper, NY, just down the road from us near Woodstock. Been wanting to go for sometime and hopefully my husband and I will go there again soon. I had the opportunity to do a "Dakini Poetics" poetry/zen retreat with my favorite poet, Anne Waldman, that blasted through the kleshas like a broken levee in the 9th ward. These "experiements of attention" were a healing balm for the mind of logos/critique that dominates my existence these days. Anne also gave a performance that was open to the community; a packed house of monks, lay zennies and Woodstock hippies.
Her new work - Manatee/Humanity - seems important to this world in ways I didn't know poetry could even be. After having an encounter with a manatee at a Florida aquarium, she vowed to write a poem about it, and it turned into an entire book length poem. These creatures have more grey matter than humans and have a mother/child bond that is incredibly deep; she explores this primal creature, giving it voice in ways that only she could.
Her new work - Manatee/Humanity - seems important to this world in ways I didn't know poetry could even be. After having an encounter with a manatee at a Florida aquarium, she vowed to write a poem about it, and it turned into an entire book length poem. These creatures have more grey matter than humans and have a mother/child bond that is incredibly deep; she explores this primal creature, giving it voice in ways that only she could.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Prayer to the Mountain
You don't need to be prayed to
I pray to you for me
I pray to your strength, courage,
and steadfast love
I pray to your beauty
and boundless surprises
As for your wisdom, I am humbled
And too, by the changes,
always rolling with the punches
I honor you, oh mountain,
full of life and death,
container of my dreams
Oh beacon, I will follow your way!
Through valleys and peaks and streams,
I vow to follow your way
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
From The American Poet
"Who troubles himself about his ornaments or fluency is lost. This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body..." Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1855
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Race
The race
that can’t be won
that makes us angry and bewildered
that has us begging for mercy
is really a fable gone awry
The rules of the race
were not made up by me
The race
has us spinning our wheels
and dreaming of winning
and dreaming of running away
This race is not my idea of the good life
The finish line is just around the corner
but then another one appears just as you are crossing it
and it goes on infinitely
like the nightmare where you’re running down a hallway that never ends
To be the fastest racer
the star of the show
makes for a cold climate
Chill out,
It's only a game
that can’t be won
that makes us angry and bewildered
that has us begging for mercy
is really a fable gone awry
The rules of the race
were not made up by me
The race
has us spinning our wheels
and dreaming of winning
and dreaming of running away
This race is not my idea of the good life
The finish line is just around the corner
but then another one appears just as you are crossing it
and it goes on infinitely
like the nightmare where you’re running down a hallway that never ends
To be the fastest racer
the star of the show
makes for a cold climate
Chill out,
It's only a game
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