Posts Tagged ‘meditation’

Poem: Walking

Posted Apr 23, 2008 at 8:50 am, Mr. S

Walking

A human has two opposable thumbs, is compelled by lightning and rainclouds that storm upon his brains as on the plains on Venus. With these man makes endless imitations. His two legs that walk or run him like a bicycle's wheels are easily mis-balanced when slowed If he steps toe to heel, if lungs dilate he'll fear falling over if he adjusts his pace, the placement of weight mind and body bend to be a tuned kaironmeter the tunnels in his head, a breathing triad: in, out, stop each phase qualified equal. Then may he finally see the brown dirt path, with weeds thereby dusted, green stems arrayed upwards, gray bark with blackened cracks from a burn a dozen summers ago, finally see the first bud, smooth like plasticine, a new leaf, all things observable, as Man, once again, becomes a mirror containing everything and nothing. So may he shrink, the dilatory respirate until breathing, time, and nature again gain touch, taste, smell, form; recede to the original. Or else are released and forgotten in favor of the easy imitations that we can control.

Poem: Forms of Things Known

Posted Apr 18, 2008 at 8:16 am, Mr. S

Forms of Things Known

A human has two opposable thumbs, is compelled by lightning and rainclouds that storm upon his brains as on the plains on Venus. With these man makes endless imitations. His two legs that walk or run him like a bicycle's wheels are easily mis-balanced when slowed If he steps toe to heel, if lungs dilate he'll fear falling over if he adjusts his pace, the placement of weight mind and body bend to be a tuned kaironmeter the tunnels in his head, a breathing triad: in, out, stop each phase qualified equal. Then may he finally see the brown dirt path, with weeds thereby dusted, green stems arrayed upwards, gray bark with blackened cracks from a burn a dozen summers ago, finally see the first bud, smooth like plasticine, a new leaf, all things observable, as Man, once again, becomes a mirror containing everything and nothing. So may he shrink, the dilatory respirate until breathing, time, and nature again gain touch, taste, smell, form; recede to the original. Or else are released and forgotten in favor of easy imitations we control.