Tag: meditation poems
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Snowflakes
I want to believe I had a moment that was magical, where snowflakes were a part of me, and where as they fell, every cellular, aspect of myself descended as well, darting when the wind picked up, and disappearing within moments of dropping through the earth, but transformation is ordinary.
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“Great Waters”
When I blow up the experience of being alone by sort of filling it up with feeling alone, is the moment I realize, how different being alone and feeling alone are from one another. It’s just that the more empathic I become with myself, the more things, like me, step out of the “great waters” […]
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Gem
I have no idea what’s inside me, if I’m holding something in or if something is holding onto me and I’m not even sure I can tell you what either way feels like, since each way feels like everything and nothing all at once, like there are just too many facets to a gem to […]
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Blueberry Bushes
I’m walking on some floorless floor in a world of blurs and darkness that is my mind, to find myself throughout some blueberry bushes, smelling of iron and mange and shit. The little loudspeaker in my head is blurting how special I am in the way that I’ve learned how to push my wants through […]
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Untitled
It’s no secret one becomes what one kills in the next life, since one becomes what one saves in the secret that was this one.
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Fly
I could ask myself why do I happen to be folding my toes around this stone at the same time as this fly marching along a curl to my forehead falls headfirst onto my eyeball, and begins fighting for breath. But that is not my method. My method is to remove the question from the […]
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Faces
When I want to humble myself with one of faces inside me that I know will scare the I out of me, I run away from the one I know will not accept me the way I am, and towards the one I know will accept me the way I was.
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Fruit & Produce
I look at a fruit and produce truck leaving in front of a market, look at a cup, some steam slips away from it, I look at a hand go as far as it can to a cup, look at an arm holding it up to a mouth, I listen to water, I listen to […]
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Moth
Me, why is it that, when you compliment me, I become like a boy who kneels in his closet, as quiet as the moth that is eating his hat?
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Porch Light
Not realizing it is there, until not looking, and not through, but on the door window, this white moth crawling so slow toward the porch light.
the real subject is always you 