Poetry as Fragments

I love poetry in part because of its fragmentary quality, like dreams.


Looking at Myself

When I meditate, I look at myself. I watch myself breathe, sit, listen. So who is the one breathing, sitting, listening? Who is the one watching all this? I realize that I am neither the doer nor the watcher. I am the one who contains both the watcher and the doer. I exist somewhere else in another place, in another home, of which all this is but a small part.

We are each so small and so large, so near and so far. No/thing contains us, and we contain all that is.  We are right next to ourselves, yet an eternity away. We are bodies and DNA scrolls crossing space and time, conveying new stories as we compose poetry in energy, condensing and scattering, then reformulating ourselves in new patterns and structures, like a living kaleidoscope.


Waking Anesthesia

Under waking anesthesia, life moves as a dream does. Time contracts. Moments take on greater meaning. Events do not flow from one to another, but from symbol to symbol, forming a poem and a painting.


Our Bodies Are Poems II

Our bodies are poems, Every cell, tissue, nerve, muscle, bone, and organ are the words.


Our Body Are Poems I

Our body are poems with beauty and meaning found in every cell, tissue, nerve, muscle, bone, and organ.


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