left-side-down

hiking in the western foothills
windblown and grizzled
i saw a squirrel
and a whiskey jack
and a patch of fur shed carelessly in the snow
and a dog who was actually a wolf
clear blue eyes reflecting the void of watchful tranquility
and on the way back home
a black muscle car approached me
all polished and shiny and trimmed with glittering chrome
air intake towering over the hood
and i lusted after the raw purr of it
and it must have sensed my desire
for it followed me
matching all my random, twisty turns back to yellow city
never passing
and when at last it drew up beside me
i glanced at the driver
and he was wearing a black suit
white collar
black tie
mirrored sunglasses staring right back at me
and i gasped up at the firmament
as the spacecraft phased in
a big carrier/mother/ship
a couple of classic rounders with a bump in the middle
frozen in the sky
surely
surely
surely they were clouds
my gaze snapped back to the agent on my left
but he was gone, gone
shaken now
muttering idly past some random strip mall
and the synchronicity rider spoke to me
of the astral plaza
and stonegate pub
where everyone was a wizard or a witch
shooting pool, ignoring tv, knitting
conversations running contrary to their lips
and i was four shades of shattered
opted for personality insertion
and ordered a pint of beer
kokanee gold

sonic message

hail upon the roof
hammering
stammering
bouncing off the ringing tin
pounding out its frozen joy
skyward singing
from that rumbly grey electric heaven
letting go of something dear
is just the start of something else

dream shard

as i stand
upon a stone of crystal quartz
a pillar struck
amid the skies and water
on the shores of magi lake
illuminated by
the waxing moon
gaia sighs
and spirits rise
chill upon the winter winds
as clouds appear to thin
orion is there
and sirius glimmering
all red and blue and white and cold
as captain jurgen blasts
recharged stardrive omnicron
time traveller stutters back to black
11 months
and there are chunks of ice everywhere

the just are way things

we drifted outside
eyes irised wide
gazed at velvet hooded sky
with just enough holes
in god’s old blanket
to let a few pinpricks by
back on earth
that name of no origin
the people know they’re special
they circle a star
and drive their cars
and try to save money to die

why does the illumined sage burn his books?

possibilities:

1.) the sage is insane
2.) the sage was cold
3.) the sage read s/he should do this
4.) there are no books; this is why they are named books
5.) words by their nature are limiting
6.) to build a bigger head over his head
7.) empty
8.) the sage didn’t really burn his books
9.) the books had expired
10.) the sage was a liar who never had books
11.) reads majicks in the aether instead

a walk with holy moses

it appeared that god
was every bit as rough
as s/he was gentle
deep in the forest
animals killed each other
winds knocked down trees
and mushrooms fed upon their spunky remains
that god created it
that god sustains it
the sun and the rain
fall upon the righteous and wicked alike
all are enlightened already
a fragment of awareness
stuffed in a walking meat sack
staggering through a dream

the meaning of life

the world wants our money badly
before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water
after enlightenment: chop wood, carry water
the world is old, and dirty

however

practicing love and acceptance
even while enduring a corporate atmosphere
generating mammon to satisfy the beast for the pleasure of subsistence
perhaps supporting others
to lighten their load in this earthly realm
is the best one can do

ultimately

when one travels down that glowing wormhole
past the meditating saints
forsaking the sideshow doors both left and right
sailing straight and true for that stargate bright

when a life is viewed in retrospect
multiverse frozen in its timeless instant
..did we love all, serve all?

that is the greatest prize..

and there are no forms in heaven
this is why they are named forms in heaven