Written while being sat

written while sittin'

there is no one who waits.

the one who waited 

never was

Nor was content to assent

to what is.

nothing more than this exists

it is

found

and humorous

kind

no argument for or against rises,

 the wave tosses the driftwood.

12.15.2014  on being encompassed by nothing more or less

From time to time I am rediscovering pieces of written breadcrumbs on the trail to this moment. 12.16.2020

Yogini

the winnowed grain
the pearl
the jewel from the quarry of many words:

feeling is my practice.
feeling is my way of devotion.
feeling riveted to the center.

for Her sake,
Shiva does not move.

for a yogini
everything
is a rose petal on the altar.

new year pearls

i walked among the trees today
my hand swirling pearls
in the pocket of my vest
mixed with rosemary from NM,
fragrant, smooth, earthy, sea born.

open
 to find a tree
open
 to receive a pearl
the trees  appeared out of the corner of my eye
or right in front of me.

i don't  know why i am drawn to do this
the necklace long ago undone.

you can imagine the pearl
resting in the opening
usually at the base of the tree
sometimes, though, higher up the trunk.

i don't know why i do this
it doesn't matter why.
it's done
in thanks
to the mystery of life,
to this giving and receiving.