page 95

this morning
i was tossing an apple in my hands;

i watched the apple roll---
surrendering itself to gravity

before being caught by the other hand.

pat-pat, pat-pat, pat-pat,
right-left, left-right, right-left.

if not for the loyalty of my hands,
the apple would be on the ground;

having met its face with the floor,
it would have become covered

in dirt and bruised all over its skin.

Exactly, said God.

:::

revere the truth,
deceive its conspirators,

and influence the path between.

:::

there are those who have faith

the fruit will fall from the tree.

there are those who

have faith the fruit will fall from

the tree and that fruit will be sweet.

and then there are those who

have faith the fruit will fall from

the tree and that fruit will be sweet

and out from the sweetness he or she

will find a seed and from that seed

there will not be a single satisfaction,

but a seasonal harvest of bounty

for the one

and for the many.

:::

the train will pass,
and the birds will continue to sing.

:::

feel the belt
that chokes your shoulders.

breathe through the broken glass.

let the hot coals burn your feet.

stand still---with your chin
balancing atop the apex of a sword;

you, the merciful.
you, the one who must show mercy.

     somewhere a dove will fracture
     its wing,

     while another dove remains in flight.

it is the scalpel of pain that cuts the wound
where healing may then close.

:::

accept-that-which-unfolds-

that-which-is-unfolding-

unwinding-unraveling-detaching-

the-yarn-twirling-off-the-bundle

so-the-kite-can-fly-

the-insignificant-significance-

of-the-disorderly-order-

where-no-single-question-is-answered

and-all-solutions-are-never-made

but-that-single-presence-

whose-presence-is-changing-

is-the-wave-i-must-ride-

the-ocean-i-must-travel-

if-this-life-is-to-make-sense-to-me-at-all-

:::

love waits

until we have cornered ourselves;

after we assess the walls

in front of us,

we have no choice but to turn

around and face the single greatest

feeling we have ever felt...

and allow ourselves to feel it

once again.

:::

love never has an ending.

we simply decide

to begin other evils

against it.

:::

in my hands is a key.

on the backdrop of darkness,
the hole i cannot see.

where i trusted sight,
no longer can i trust.

a blind hand to unlock,
only to intuit a touch.

where---many attempts,
on what i saw before.

again, the way is palpable,
that way is a must.

click, latch, key unlocked,
at no sign of rust.

faith, my child, opens doors
and turns old fears

to dust.

:::

at the moment
a leaf chooses abandonment,

it abandons an attachment
from anything opposed

to the devoted submission
of the peaceful surrender

of the exhilarating freedom
of the life of which

we all wish to fall.

:::

i am a rain drop.

God, the window

that catches me

as i begin to fall---

laying me to rest

on the sill of grace.