Why not say "God"?

The bud. 

The breaking open.

The flowering.

What can be said?

evidence

Friday morning. 

October.

A Merwin poem --

To the Happy Few

Do you know who you are

O you forever listed

under some other heading

when you are listed at all

you whose addresses

when you have them

are never sold except

for another reason

something else that is

supposed to identify you

who carry no card

stating that you are—

what would it say you were

to someone turning it over

looking perhaps for

a date or for

anything to go by

you with no secret handshake

no proof of membership

no way to prove such a thing

even to yourselves

you without a word

of explanation

and only yourselves

as evidence

(--poem, “To the Happy Few” by W.S. Merwin, from Collected Poems: 1996-2011. © Library of America, 2013.)

May each become the evidence so many seek!

be seen

The difficulty is when we receive new insights we file them away in dusty narratives.

Or misfile them under familiar names.

When, instead, light finds no darkness wherein to hide.

logico redactus

The way I see it is: All knowledge is self-knowledge!

And all choices we make lead to the former sentence.

carry across morning

Possible scattered showers, says weather website.

      weather haiku

possible, we think  

scattered drifting dreams, tree leaf 

showers earth -- autumn 

                                   [wfh, nunc ipsum]

Every explanation falls behind woodpile. Rotting wood from old excavations damp with dark soil wondering why they are moved now. For now, no explanation suffices.

Behind this season, they say, comes a cold season with harsh winds and long darkness.

One log atop another. The dropped pile is formed into retrievable shape for frosty morning slog.

[Basho] practiced Zen without insignia or ordination. Every decade he experienced a catastrophic reordering of his life. 'Let my name be "Traveler,"' he implored, following the narrow road of poetry to the far north. He shattered clever wordplay haiku to create a new mosaic of language, solitary and raw. ‘ he old verse can be about willows,’ he observed, 'but haiku requires crows picking snails in a rice paddy.'                                         -- Wendy Johnson, "Seventeen Syllable Medicine"

I will take oar and trust swell and chop to carry across morning.

in medio stat virtus

Bruno created a monastic enclosure around silence.

Imitation, like silence, sincerely forms what it flatters.

The motto of the Carthusians is Stat crux dum volvitur orbis, Latin for "The cross is steady while the world is turning."

Silence, like circle surrounding itself, evokes stillness in movement.

Particular good is done, either way

One author claims jesus was a myth.

Does it matter?