Paradox Happens

Do not retreat to the simple and to the blockish.
Those dances have already been danced.

Find your repose of spirit hiding behind the garage
where weeds have grown up for years.

Turn to the setting sun and then to the rising moon
crying aloud from your soul, "Paradox happens."

Then you will not have to worry at what the morning
brings after another restless night of being awakened.

The Burning Bush Burns

I come across strange drawings of unknown critters 
while vacuuming under the sofa and paste them
in my journal.

Twenty years later I come across them again 
surrounded by words that I have written:
abandonment, emptiness and loss.

Somewhere between the drawings and the words
I can find the meaning of the paradox resting
among all the expressions of the divine.

And then, in fullness, completeness, accompanied
by depth and variety, I can slowly remove my shoes
and turn to see how the burning bush burns.


ordinary space
discovering place

sacred migration
low infatuation

return to local
unravel the political

new hero persons
progress worsens

vied vulnerability
heightens civility

modest proposals
mine disposals

being story
creates category

needing another
...every other