Finding a Passing Year

12/18

 

From Hilda Morley’s “Sea Lily 

Words voiced. Flamed human resonance

emerging, ever-arranging-

rearranging-reality,

both before and after, flowed over

of color and heat, each a cup

             of fullness

              taking

            from whatever passes

                giving

            itself away.

 

**

 

On reading Hilda Morley’s “Butter-and-Egg Weed”

I wonder this morning, early in the dark before light,

if William Stafford knew of the poems of Hilda Morley

and am certain he did, and reading quickly, as was his habit

 

Listened closely, so as not to fail to learn

a better way of living, given freely there

of abundance both knew

 

Coming to know one completely new thing

daily, a necessary thing, perhaps, or failing that,

some new thing one might simply delight in

 

**

12/28

 

This is not indifference

 

Rivers lap, as at unlatched doorways

in darkened morning passages

of tomorrow come,

hushed shuffle and brush,

most not heard heart-call,

irresistible current-flutter

of unmistakable intent toward

oceans of bruise-held kisses.

 

**

Talking with Billie

 

Having reached sixty-five,

nearly wrapping up the prologue,

the introduction looms, inviting,

slow sweeping beckoning, softly receding edge,

always opening…

 

 

**

1/1/09

 

Limitless, the arc and reach,

the farthest sky’s embrace within which we hear

Buddha’s call that we are heard

 

Our tears’ resounding response

echo heavens’ warm wishes of well being,

raining blessings of clear-light.

 

**

1/5/09

 

I have not known exile

nor the endless pain of prolonged separation of hearts,

but once in youth for a time seemed eternal

was swallowed whole in torment of broken being,

glaring, un-moored, fearsome aloneness,

 

was when you came, wrapped in the certainty of moonlight.

 

**

in praise of change

 

it is not ever

that change enters once again

 

our lives are change

 

the only constant

the only possibility

all possibilities

 

calling   pushing   cajoling

goading us   to learn anew

let go the old   liberate

 

          everything

 

within endless   boundless   potential

 

all creation

        creativity

                     ever

 

Namuamidabutsu

**

Unquestioned visitors

 

Who knows how or why.

Scholars ponder. Ryokan though,

he just wrote his thoughts.

 

So much flowing grass.

Waters or winds, just the same.

No tangles, no bind.

 

His arrival then,

here and now, is no surprise.

I nod, push the pen.