The Path Leading out of the Heart

I hear so many, so many whispers
Inside my veins
I hear so many names, so many
At the edge of silence and seas
They circle perfectly 
In a dance of blood
Holding hands with the stars,
Forever leaping on 

Fluid music incarnadine!
Cantilations! Cantilations! 
Of the uninvocable
Secret of All
Flesh and blood
That has known 
The whisper of touch
Beyond description

This circle 
Limning everything
In which the names, the stars
Do not speak, do not say
Only murmur hymns spinning
In the circle of blood,
The violet gateway
Opening into the sphere of starlight

Leaving themselves behind in whispers
Dancing in the liquid, crimson weight
Of names along the dusty path
Of this blood pulsing in the wind,
This soil of absolute mystery
In which I hear my footsteps. 

Moving of themselves behind those whispers
Along the open, empty path of my body,
This flowing outline cut by the wind
Against the blackness of space-
A road bearing only the fallen signposts 
Of stars leading the way out of the heart

And the names, so many, so many...
Stars in the sky like the fruit of wine
Overripe upon the long, 
Dark vines of night
Plunging down their secret route
Through veins
To the ground of blood, that road
That leads from out of the heart
To a destiny

Breaking apart atop the empty source
Seeding its own end
Upon the gnarled roots of the universe
Feeding the soil with all the names
That have wed the Earth
That have known the long path
Leading out of the heart,
That have known the vow of
I do
That have known the vow of
I Am
That have known the vow of
I Will Be...
Without end...

Undone, finished, undone, never finished
Only undressed, naked, divest
Like a lover's dress tossed upon the limbs 
Of the universe
In a midnight rendezvous

The faint rustling of a dress in the breeze
The faint, unmistakable rustling of lovers
In the vines and leaves,
In the stars and veins
The faint, unmistakable rustlings  
Of blood, of names
Straining to reach out, to communicate
To be known, but unable to speak
Unable to say who they are in the darkness,
In the darkness
In which lovers lose their names
Upon this path leading out of the heart. 


Travel Light.

I see
In the darkness
I must travel light
I must travel more light 

I see in the darkness
That if I am going to go 
Beyond this point
I must travel light    

And dance upon it

I must leave my name behind
In a whisper of song...

LVX
JAL

A Drop from a Fountain, a Waft from a Fan.

Listen:
“Good bye.”
These words always deep
Within the air.

Wings of a passing butterfly -
Bright sails of a fountain...

Fading away over a horizon
Surging into the hush of sky...

All these sailing drops from a fountain
Fanning through the air
To answer for themselves
Their own mysterious question.
Don’t ask, listen:
“Good bye”

Wings and sails
Are ultimately beyond ken…
Beyond doing…
Almost hallucinatory
Flashes scattering into the white sprays of sun:
A foam of brocaded wings
A jet of fountaining sails
The sweep of a fan
Reaching everywhere
In the Permanence of Wind

All Thus Come…

Filled with tremendous greeting -
Splashing over with endless gratitude at leaving
And leaping into the air with
A brief, but forceful waving
Good bye.

And more than a thousand years ago
In Guandong province, China
A young student asked,
"What is one drop
From the fountain
At the Master's temple
Like…?"

One wonders how long he remained
When told by an elder, who had been there
That it was just like…
One drop
From the fountain
At the Master’s temple.

Listen: “Good bye”.
The ancient masters
Urge us to leave ourselves behind.
Each of their words is
But One drop from the fountain,
Fanning through the air:

A long stretching path
Circulating through the formlessness of sky,
A drop evaporated
On a ray of light down a transparent river
Leading invisibly back into form
One drop
From the temple fountain.

The silent event of an inner answer, a recognition
That is just as
The fanning of one’s self
To acknowledge a question respecting
The Permanent Nature of Wind,
And how it is that it reaches Everywhere.

As the Master remained silent
Wafting the air insouciantly about him,
The fan in his hand was as deft as a butterfly wing.
The student simply bowed and departed,
Not uttering a sound.
“Thank you”
Was already very deep within the air