Poetry from Web Del SolDharma Bear
Forgive forgive, it was not me but the gun --arises in the body and from life, space; and in space, senses to catch air and light; and from food, works and days when their form disappears when word disappears sang a hunter's song, broken brown bear pulled up to the porch freeing spirits from fishes, all fall into ice holes where everyone knows everyone's business I am behind your form and the original fire sallies all will unable to absorb it soundless II. In a warm train she notified a dharma bear, harm licked the wound. Nomadic hearers. No ordinary family dances into a seventh heaven. Soul awes its pasture. Pieces placed under windows of young girls' dreams Observed stars moonpie on blueberry maple faithful vagabond mind, but offers oneself to phenomena, prayer, distance one-eyed guide how her nerves and muscles resist her own poison. is not known. woods will wait in place of her sleep furry Ameliorate truth insolvent, or undulations to empty answers and periodic energies. She hates exceptions, how secret they make us leaking our inner-ships. That was guilt which could not heal like chaos if there were no earth but afloat. Her sisterbear in mine. hours uprooting hurricanes, vanes, time-telling and moods are oftener now III. to its breath. It became Texts and. in the perception of it. Temples fell. Dissolved their center effecting physiological colors --vast spaces, seas, microbes. A reverted eye floods notion with time. seers objects of sense fooled into going outdoors Pure supreme All-day tests sent in oblique shapes, messenger decoys with quivers. Take the way from me, computing orbit by our acts, consciousness of a bear or involuntary lure Mind in the heart lunar shoe Water enters water empties coal equates there is nothing but is related to us. IV. Her wrists brown and tender eider when nothing is to be. The former running from the latter while the latter runs upward; rage and heat passing through its hairs, its eyes, pissed She said, ``Impulsions: air at the point of exile, but so withdrawn--where now can it travel?'' A bee-line out the heart. in error there is freedom. Decay emits a smell of it always streaming away. Her tongue rises in the center The dharma's back curls Only for today the collection of problems follows a flautist emanations Line up |
