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Red Sky Dawning

We already can notice
dawn unfolds a warm greeting,
a liturgical invocation,
not just because that’s the way our Earth revolves
around that Other,
too hot and terror-powerful burning Sun,
and not just because we feel this way inside
our polypathic minds,
but because of both
deductive-inductive
exterior-interior
yang-yin bilaterally interdependent
creolizing languaged reasons
of Self with Other
nondual co-arising Earth’s double-binding humane-divine acclimation,
natural-spiritual binomial balancing
cooperative
organic
dynamic
revolutionary ego/ecologically systemic
EarthMind Nature.

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Limiting Abundant Liturgies

If dawn invites grace-filling abundance,
what dual horizon limits sunset?

Awake each morning
with or without alarm.
What promise waits
to unfold this liturgical dance
across our day’s embracing stage?

Thought of sunset,
even this next one.
Too soon arrived?
Or will dark never arrive
to say goodnight?
Farewell,
aloha dawn and sunset
framing today’s fancy form-exhausting dance.

Which background music
does creolizing jazz suggest today?
To glance our best step shine
and slide together.

What songs we sing
with smiles and frowns.
What arias we start
with full-heart passion,
compassion,
co-passion!

Today feels like
We Shall Overcome Ourselves
together,
rhythm and gospel blues once again
to rediscover sunset
fading toward nightmares
to recomemorate
remember,
yet also dreams of dawns
filling perfect light
erasing each dark corner climate
while tempered shining full-octaved from within
as without,
breath in and out,
dancing dawns to evensong
sung sunsets.

Will we sing this day’s sun down
at least as full-creole voiced
as yesterday and night?
Across this Earth
where sun is always setting
and this new day
wakes full-voiced dawning.

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January Light

He stood stalwart
watching western dusk
promising pink and red ribbon of light
crevice of Presence
between dual dark starless night
and vaguely outlined Earth’s end of bright
for yet another day’s journey
through spatial time,
diurnal rhyme.

Boot journeyed feet planted
centering weight and stretching spine
reaching to breach this transitional last gasp
of hope’s new day,
grasping for how this time is without precedent
yet timelessly emerging
re-submitting into unto worn-dark cosmic consciousness,
narrow gap of fading pink with blue-grey veins
networking night of sky with Earth
to close this endless day.

Where was he when this time started and closed
and before?
Standing stake-out watching Earth Day’s fading string
of time’s co-gravitational light
folding in Earth’s darkening rim
rolling toward him
across cold black twilight night
reaching toward his Elder future
staring blind toward endless time
glaring timeless blind back through him.

At last, he inhaled deaf heaven and blind Earth’s embrace
one more time
less day turning night
breathing light in and out of dreams
through lives of ages
lost to reasoned memory.

Treasonally forgetting
to say farewell
and namaste
before gently closing his back yard’s western door
with full will and warm co-arising intent
to thank morning’s dawn
for showing up
despite his lack of eco-social grace.

His dreams drench absorbing graceful face
smiling Earth’s radical revolution
with timeless eternal pace
of dusk’s red ribboned grace
warning dawn’s threshold of climatic race
toward upside-down political economies
as Heaven dressing Earth
in moon-evolving star light,
while Earth cooperates her most regeneratively sexy synthesis
through sun revolving light’s full ecoconsciousness;
all dressed up
with every ecorevolutionary place to go.

He stared this dual dressed study
until his turn to exhale once more,
while opening dawn’s eastern gathering door.

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Easter Manna’s Genesis

The one who spots the line

before spotting the bait

is the ultimate winner in life.

Rumi (Maryam Mafi translation)

 

The ones who spot Earth Day’s decomposing line

before spotting Easter morning’s ReGenesis bait

are our mutual messiahs in life.

 

Each dawn reincarnates Earth Day

as Easter morning’s karmic revolution.

 

Eastern minds dream of humane fleeing flying,

too often frying, frogs

while Western brains cooperatively

comprehensively

swim through red sky warnings

regenerating Western red horizons

fading full-moon Yin

to more simply rest in NOW

and dream of mutually mentoring messiahs’

Eastern dawn

of Polycultured Tao,

fractured Frog Princes croaking songs

for long-strung graceful Princess ovations

recreating East-West harmonies

for NorthWinter through SouthSummer

weathering Earth Day Opera.

 

Red sky Earth Days

regenerate

green horizon Easter Genesis.

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Red Sky At Night…

Once upon a nightime grim

all creatures of Earth dreamed

our Mother was not enough for everyone,

just “me.”

 

This collective nightmare thunderously rolled out

dark implications:

Earth is insufficient for our needs!

We live in Closed Systems of immunity,

heading toward decay!

EarthTribe is not enough to sustain all this life!

I am not enough, yet!

I do not have enough, yet!

When someone grabs from me

they steal from my self-identity!

Grab back!

When someone strikes and hits to hurt,

is mean to those I care about,

I hit back!

with self-righteous flashing anger,

equity and integrity mere dormant values.

They must learn

or I may perish!

 

With such dark dreams

our primal twins,

Yang and Yin,

thrashed about in tangled sheets

each unaware of Other’s parallel flight

within this blue-black brackish night,

til Yang whacked Yin upside the head

completely unaware of how this would unfold.

So Yin hit back in fright

and soon this ruckus raised a violent alarm

among their household, neighbors, Tribe.

This outrage spread

sweeping across land and oceans

then back again to where it all began

until exhausted and dark bruised

all earthbound life fell down unconscious.

 

Within this loss of self-defense,

our open-handed peaceful nest,

dawn quietly crept toward abundant light

for all to feel and hear and touch

her sobbing singing warming beauty.

Scent of sun-baked cotton sheets

invites Yin’s eyes to uncover sight

of radiant light

abundantly growing nutrient wealth,

a yeasty compost sustaining interweaving life,

incarnating karmic response to each species’ evolving wants

and worthy hope.

 

As her awareness of Earth’s vast creation

lit her eyes of self-discovery

dawn’s diastasis filled hearts and minds

of all coincidental early risers.

We woke uncovered to discover immensity of life

and color swarming far beyond our needs,

nutrients absorbed for taste, and touch, and scent, and sound,

and sight, freely accessed to fit each synchronic need,

each longing to belong,

each Self fading into and out of Other,

sufficient place for each species’ time and space.

Last night’s primal screams of insufficiency replaced

by dawn’s ecology of karmic grace.

 

Yang woke alarmed at loss of cover.

His arms flew out to hide his fall

from dawn’s radical gift of generosity

and harmonic praxis.

And, in so doing, he hit Yin’s head.

This blow did smart

but seeded tears of redeemer healing.

Yin justly smiled and absorbed around

reminding Yang she is his graceful mentor

interpreting his dreams.

 

She sang with harmony enveloping unredeemed dissonance and disease,

hope for suffering and insanity’s dark lessons,

dawn’s well-lit vocation for us all

softly individuating within Earth’s optimizing life,

all brittle boundaries of mutual immunity

relaxing into resonance.

 

In this Transition Time from dark competing violence,

we remain cooperatively nested within Earth’s well-being,

so, dear Yang,

return toward redemptive rest,

regenerating memory seeds,

stringing songs dancing back,

back to stardust’s Ecologic Elders.

 

Fear and violence display synaptically sharp;

competitive “Loser!” economies;

love’s justice peace remains buoyant, resilient, robustly evolving

cooperating mutual winner revolution

away from red skies of mourning.

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Reheading Rights

In memory of, and with gratitude to, all those who have lost our heads to violence.

 

We lost our head the other day,

attenuating sight and sound and smell,

severing our capacity to feel

and digest this sacrifice of sacred nature.

 

With dominant arm of self-righteousness

we practiced malignant intent,

a sacrilegious suicide

this unholy separation of mind and sacred icon

of EarthSpace,

Tree of Life cut down,

leaving this abominated stump

with dying roots

stretching back and down to reach

our deepest rivers of nutrient Paradise.

 

And now Yin, mourning left hand of justice

grows silently incapacitated

by right-handed hubris

trading self-defensive weapons

predicating tools, offending nature’s incarnation.

 

Our denatured head grows silent

waiting for decaying EarthSelf to respond.

 

Why is this eternal silence

not enough,

a global omissioned sin?

 

Perhaps because our grieving is too loud

to recommit Earth Yinned arm to

restore our sacred space,

a paradise replacing

self-immunizing defenses with

self-immolating gratitude

for deeply graced ecologic,

our Tree of Life Cathedral

composed of countless recycling life rings,

each gradually growing silent

as its individuating season passes,

to move to core support,

endless trunk aligned with

EarthSelf’s permaculturing taproot.

 

Our beheading self-sacrilege

screams with holy loss,

defilement of humaned nature,

loss of hope for anything

but winter’s silent healing,

nurturing future’s seed.

 

Teach us bare-boned sacred silence,

grow our gratitude for winterish loss,

our remains deep-stretching hope

to comprehend Earth’s silent despairing diastasis,

sobbing decay weeps for

unremitted memory loss.

 

Rise up peaceful open-handed grace

of silent witness.

Burn fused weapons

into smooth-shelled water rafts

rising procession, springing sap

for reweaving Earth’s cultured pearls,

sacred silent wisdom,

a left-armed reach up

to greet right hand’s loss,

mutually caressing shared loss of mind.

 

As one falls silent severed

so do we all.

Dropping arms in empty bow

to rest on Earth’s warm skin.

Cold-hearted seeds of tears

for what we have begun,

a suicide procession

quietly emptying out of Eden.

 

This pilgrimage bows,

vows to return again

to silent natural grace,

uncommodified,

waiting with simpler cousins,

more helplessly free of self-defenses,

trees and hibernating animals,

making do with what rests stored,

vast wealth deposits melting out

toward starving margins of

reason’s boundary.

 

Winter water’s left-armed brittle peace,

a pacific self-sequestration

lays siege to tired and trembling Righteousness,

until at last we reconnect

our left and right

our Yang and Yin

our song and silence.

 

We retell our children

and they theirs

of this Great Head Turning.

Iconic scab of homeless body,

a trunk no longer growing rings

sings our silent mourning memory

for EarthTribe’s loss of seed.

 

Our sacrificial answer to sacrilegious question,

winter’s dark silence

until mourning accomplishes her healing task,

Earth’s dawning regenesis

of heart and breath

springing profoundly diverse sprigs

of interweaving gratitude

for winter’s rich composting blanket.

 

Fold arms,

stop marching in effraction baring markets,

to dance in harmoniously therapeutic

revolving, flowing

Gaian prehensive circles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Grace’s Seductive Nature

This day dresses gracefully

like all our days before

but each one unfolds differently

with unique charism and dignity

inviting dawn’s engagement

to stay together in her place

a habitat that paints a dance

across my senses

reminding days before

some less, some more,

some brighter, others dark

wet to dry

cloudy to bright toward dusky night.

 

Each dawn invites engagement.

Step out into my sky!

Nature draws my humaned nature

out in simple abandonment of roof

and walls, windows and doors.

Step out please spin this day with us!

Ms. Day’s natural ways

have trees for voice and waving arms

and meadows for her lap

rivers sometimes quick and rocky and frisky

but usually more sedate,

lately, too often murky,

her circulation needs more exercise

more human exercise to swell her flows

and clear her clogs

beneath her lacey dressed up grace.

 

Each afternoon invites marriage

of human nature’s eco-clan.

Her heat each day reminds

invest some heat her way.

Summer’s warm acidic

flashy orange-red-tomatoed polish.

Fall’s weeping kaleidoscope

seeding color compost

cool and moist fragrant maturity

a harvest for her nest.

Winter’s white crystal sequined gown

hides icey heart in hybernation.

These days with her are shorter.

She freezes and prefers a solitary nap.

But, when she’s bright and warm and

brilliant, gleaming so white bright

her rays burn crisp dry skin

exposed beneath my chin

as I venture forth for warmth’s brief fling,

sniffing searching for her sisters’

warmer green-hued spring.

Warm spring heat gives birth to

flower, food, fragrance, folly

to be worried about missing her past winter.

Her fecund grace pledges a bun dance

for our wedding,

each mindful natured afternoon a marriage

of our diversely racing meetings.

 

Each day’s evening draws me toward her honeyed moon.

A time to rest together through dark

nights of reweaving flight

remembering this day’s beauty

and her beast

when nature’s tensions

made me want to slam shut door

go back inside

say, What for!

But dwelling in this beastly beauty

warps a weavish fecund trail

toward dawn’s next new dress

seducing humans’ nature.

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