Three sounds without tongue
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
silence Snow
drum
Fall
I can connect nothing with nothing
with all
The more I lose my words the more I uncover my soul
Three sounds without tongue
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
AUM
silence Snow
drum
Fall
I can connect nothing with nothing
with all
and as I am ready to depart
a turquoise bug lands on my lap
This tumid stench
of self
blanket
or lens,
blessing
or curse
less?
Forest of
absence
bead of
drought
fruitless
action
yes,
this unwanting belonging
this hair left in the sink
what of it
It’s there
Isn’t it
In the city
the only contact
is with pigeons, squirrels, foxes
and dogs
AUM x7
silence Snow
I can connect nothing with nothing
with all
I am dorado, yellow
green gold – leaping
blue freedom I,
I am
language of sun
color of turquoise
I am marlin, billless
and bowing, muscling
out of ocean, dorsal
fin hovering – joyous
over horizon
Return to water
I could simply be
relieving fear
and the parasitic itch
Long before the waning dusk of dawn
and the first rattles of morning
Hear Ngapile return the sky
Ngai, Ngai, Ngai
Oh nkakúyiaâ baobab, kokoô mangrove –
arms of ɛn-dámà – arms of ɛnkárɛ́ –
let us tell one, let us tell all
the gourd
has split open
and it is of no importance
everything you may ever know
is as delicate as the way the light waters
nkakúyiaâ- grandfather/ son
kokoô- grandmother/ daughter
ɛn-dámà- sun /light
ɛnkárɛ́ – water
I collect the words from the bottomless well
head a pail, neck of sisal,
the act is essential.
The water is my former and further self
it was never born, it only grows
and it is yours
listen to the soft swash and swirl
come into contact –
absorb
glow in the eternal warmth of a second
you are mother to all
what use for words
when you have already discovered the true sense of the world
what use of fearing growing old
when you are only approaching your birth
what use of distinction
when everything lives on the edge of itself
what use of ends, beginnings and all oppositions
when they distract from the delta of presence
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To be spiritual is not to live forever within
but merely to be involved
Involved in the delicate convergence of self and world
To be sensitive to all the notes in the eternal song,
creation
To remove one’s self from the false shade
that has become of this age
and re-consecrate one self, with air –
our only temple.
To release the ball from inside the bell
let go of the individual
and know that for all we may search
we may never pick the perfect mango.
To know that all we are is inevitable
light falling on this moment then passing into another body. Nothing more
than another little journey we may still call our own
and more importantly,
to be in love with the everywhere
of this single breath –
our necessary angel
the simple rise and fall of the chest
answered in the come and go of the endless ocean
only then my friends
begins the delicacy of the poem