Swimming in His Will

September, 2007


I'm swimming in his will, where everywhere
Is the center. I am filled -- I overflow!
Cup brimming up, the plenty he shares;
The gift is the presentor. My will grows
Into his will. I give myself to him,
He gives himself to me. Since his mind knows,
Then my mind knows, (though slightly dark and dim).
I do not try. Light... happiness... All flows.
I am a nexus. No pressure, only lightness,
Precious awareness, purest sentiment,
He brings me to the brink of bliss,
Just tipping, slipping... no more intention
As I rest and nestle into his breast
And wedge my will where it will persevere
Silent, unimpressive, unimpressed,
No-where... Here... Nowhere but here, forever.
The faceless ocean deep (all self-fear flees)
Quiet, calls, "Dive in, thrive, and die in peace."

Glory to God Alone

Divine Friendship

September, 2007

She is someone with whom I see one truth,
who could be the Friend,
Or she could be one flower among
The thousand-flower rose garden
You've given me instead of a bouquet
This Valentine's Day.
This banquet is bliss, joy, happiness,
Pure and untouched by hunger.
Any suffering flies like a sled
Off an ice-jump in a cartoon,
And as I philosophize, I fly,
Animals conversing with angels.
And ignorance drops like a well-used rocket
to the ocean, as the ego dissolves
in the atmospheric fire,
And the transhumanized spirit
of the Nazarene in me continues into deep heaven,
Assuming its undisclosed identity,
Claiming the "I" for the very first time,
Swimming in bliss that is not
diminished by endurance
Not dimmed by awareness of pain in others,
Not ending or tapering,
Totally untouched by fear of loss,
Having forsaken all meanness
And limitation; having, rather
Accepted... Having finally surrendered.

There is no greater wisdom than
Cognition of divinity
In every phenomenon,
Every thought, feeling, perception
and deja vu; Every physical object
And mental Form, every principle
of logic, every proposition,
Every dream, image, illusion.
This is life as much as wisdom,
Wisdom as much as life;
Lived as much as known, known as much as lived.
They are sufficient,
Lacking no wealth, no power,
No status and prestige,
No pleasure among the myriad pleasures.
They are inseparable
And they are insuperable,
There being nothing else to be gained,
Desired, or hoped for but this,
Which is a river of knowing
(and steam of unknowing rising )
Flowing out of the Void
Of Uncreated Beyond-beingness
Through this psyche
Out, around, and back through the doorjamb
That I walked past in the hallway
Of the apartment in Huntington Beach,
Meeting itself face-to-face again
In this person's perceptive
Eyebeams. The One who has been given
This wisdom and re-cognition
Converses affably with the Angels at every turn,
Who, like honeybees, each of a different species,
Buzz melodiously in created things.
This crazy joy of waking up is the
The thing I shall like most of all.
But won't the joy of being woken up be greater?
No, being woke up, being finally awake,
Surpasses Joy like the Sunlight
Surpasses the dimmest glum and gloomy ember
In Death Valley,
When joy and self shall merge
And stillness shall reign.
Joy, while it lasts, that fine companion,
Will burn no brighter than while it is waking up.
The state of being awake
Will snuff out that candle with gratitude,
Hearing the words, "Arise, fair one,"
And coming into the joyless ground of joy
The invisible, ineffable ground of sight and speech
The non-existent Ground of Being.
I am but one man. But I am one. I am
With you, and a thousand friends,
Ten thousand sisters of bliss.

Glory to God Alone.

Believe

July 28, 2007

Do not believe everything that you see

Unless the dialog is many and one.

Do not believe the dialog is done,

Unless what you see is one and many,

Glory to God Alone.

Writer's Sphere

July 19th, 2007

In fear, writers sit blocked, and painters idly paint
Blank canvases with gesso of purest white,
Unable to think or see straight, let alone create.

Do not hold your breath tight, panic, or faint;
Do not stare and wear away the empty frame with fright;
Relax, and seek. To see is to make. First, Contemplate.

Glory to God Alone.

An Ode of Thanks to Joy

May 3, 2007

An Ode of Thanks To Joy

Sweet Joy, bitter spite's discontent,
Thou fruit of the Spirit, like Patience and Peace,
Thou for whom Christ his time on earth spent
Suffering... For whom he endured even the cross --

I address thee as a friend. With humility I ask
Thy Spirit to plant and bear in me all good fruits.
But my love for others is my part of the task
Of becoming holy, full of joy and gratitude.

To that end, O Idea of God, would it be amiss
To break silence to express, once, gratitude,
For the brief time spent; for the soul-to-soul kiss,
For that passing in the night that contributes

To my joy? That which we desire wells up
Within. (This is the secret which all wise men cry!)
And yet, drinking from this or that external cup
May stir the taste of internal reality.

Just so, then, Universal Joy, Angelic Light of God,
I praise thy daughter, one part of your Whole --
Her sweet Russian lips, her wit, her body
Smooth; her rich indwelling presence of soul,

Like a dancer, who knows and owns her home.
And I ask thee, Spiritual Gift, give yourself inwardly,
To your sweet daughter, even she without whom
I would not have felt thy light so thoroughly.

One last request, thou unmerited Grace:
Let the echoes of the silence which I herein break
Be rays of lovingkindness that fill the face
Of the beautiful soul that I herein thank.

Thank you, Joy, for being with me, for one
Sixty-second minute of Life's short Day,
Which, like all others, when Time's race is run,
Though redeemed in death, is now passed away.

Glory to God Alone

A Song to Joseph of Cupertino

February 14th, 2007

A Song to Joseph of Cupertino

Flying Joe, teach me your ways!
Teach me your humble, simple grace!
If from high heaven you can find your way,
To be with me on the ground today,
I'll thank you, Joseph, and the Spirit too
Who helps you to forget about you
So entirely that, weightless, you ascend
And float with Christ in the Empyrean!

Glory to God Alone.

One and One Makes Three

October 2, 2006

My sister just had twins. My other sister just found out she is pregnant. This poem is my response to and working out of the powerful emotions involved in being a new parent, and is written from the imaginative perspective of a new father, reflecting on the birth of his first child.


Nine years before we ever met
Were spent with loves (the puppy kind,)
And spent with parents, other friends,
Our other lives, our younger times

Nine days we spent in Waikiki
We watched the sunset every night
We ate in bed, and paid the fees
(The room service was worth it... right?)

Nine minutes from the start to stop
Exhausted, we could not go on
We laughed and tried to smoke, but dropped
The habit just as it began.

Nine seconds wondering why it was good
We broke the rules of going slow
Well, sometimes love can't wait, and should
Be master, we conclude, and glow

Nine months later, to the day
We hug... Fatigue, tranquility
Thank God, she looks like you! I say
For one and one, in love, makes three.

Glory to God Alone.

May 24, 2007

"I wiped the condensation of my 32oz., Coca-Cola.
'Hey thanks, what do I owe you?'
'Don't worry about it,' he said.
And as I smiled and said, "Thank you!" again,
the drink slipped from my hand.
The carpet flooring of the Toyota
absorbed the carbonated liquid,
and I realized how thirsty I actually l was."

"I walked into to work at 11:30, fifteen minutes late,
after dragging myself out of bed. Still groggy, I asked where I would be working today. They said, 'You're not on the schedule.'After double-checking, I saw that I was supposed to work on Tuesday,
and I had Monday off. My co-workers made fun of me, or said they were jealous, but I just laughed. I went home, watched a movie, and slept."

"For thirty-three years, we tried to make it work.
Though, you can't really try for thirty-three years...
We tried twice, maybe three times... Four at the absolute most...
No, we didn't try for thirty years, we gave up for thirty years.
By the end, I could mouth the words, "I love him," if asked by the Home School Association, or his pastor friends.
But mostly l wanted the searing pain of his presence to be removed from my flesh...
I wanted the cool air of freedom.
When he filed the papers, I told him, "I never wanted this! How can you give up on me!?'
He tried to tell me that I had requested them - demanded them! -- not six months ago.
Worthless bastard. I wouldn't have thought him capable of lying, but I suppose, at the end, he was that desperate.
That was three years ago, and I am looking for the love of my life. But, thinking back, he really was a good man."

There is no other human way
To appreciate what you have.

Lose it, by imagination, today;
And, losing, thereby love.

Glory to God Alone.

Contemplating Death

September, 2007

September, Sister death, looking at your face, I see myself
My end, fully developed, having changed its last

The darkness overwhelms all the pleasures
The silly jokes, the mirth, the parties, the cute girls
The card games, and silver medals, the ping-pong on Mondays,
The delectable desserts, Apple Cobbler and Fudge Fudge brownie,

And yet, it leaves me satisfied. You are the gateway to life.
Vainity falls away. Good riddance.
I am a marble statue, faint, indistinct, colorless,
And you teach me to be a real boy.

Glory to God Alone.

We must not complain

September 1st, 2007

I see the lofty forest foilage
And the layered city lights
Speckled across panaramic views
I see air shimmering at nightI see death,
my sweet impending doom
We must not complain about our age

Glory to God Alone