Saturday, October 22, 2016
The good thing
about rain is
to receive it
Friday, October 21, 2016
poems don’t need much, space
Two by Antonio Porchia:
We don’t forgive being as we are.
Don’t speak to me. I want to be with you.
BY ANTONIO PORCHIA
TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY GONZALO MELCHOR
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Who needs to worry about the enemies we make in Middle East,
Our dogs and cats are smuggling in a fierce ravager every hour.
We are bitten.
We become infected.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
In a quiet hospital room
seventeen years ago
How deeply we shared
ne rien, mon frere
The hermit in the attic signing belongs to the French Cistercian Trappists in Bianco's book
Voices of Silence (
Today he visits in description this quiet porch as night rain gives way to sun through colored autumn leaves.
This is not that.
Nor that this.
This is this.
And that's that.
Don't mention it, brother.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
someone wrote and mentioned faith
If there's anything I am "sure" about is that kindness, compassion, and conversation surrounding authentic inquiry will serve well those participating.
That might be the definition of faith I work with.
And even if I doubted an endgame benefit to such a practice, I still find the shared inquiry worth engaging in.
Like the sitting practice of shikantaza, just sitting, just doing it, is well enough alone.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Veux-tu danser avec moi ?
Has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don'ts,
Not the God who never does
But the God who only knows four words
and keeps repeating them, saying;
Come dance with me
sometimes something shortens itself
Sunday, October 16, 2016
tell me about your mother
If everything mothers everything, is there anything not mother?
Sea, moving in and out of itself.
Everything moves in and out of everything else.
Honor your mother.
And your father.
There, that's covered.