“There is a charm in the taste of tea,
which makes it seem an ideal form,
that in repetition reveals the
charm of tea to be the taste of form.”
“Every day I tried to find
one thing through which spirit
that was my heart or god or mind
could speak and make me quiet.”
“Welcome, Blossom. Pink petals—
pale, pale—white, shrivel
around your spent stigma, settle
into earth without a shovel.”
“Continuum is continuum—
at each vanishing point exist
space thought time vacuum
exhaled upon a single axis.”
“The sun a rock among the canyon
faces, rapids deafening quiet;
tracklessly, I wade. The hidden
shadow trembles. Swifts riot.”
“The breath left my body for the clock
and held it stopped. When wind and rust
dissolved the clock . . . and our deadlock,
my breath inhaled the air and dust.”
“Sunshine floods the room and red
birds flash across the window frame.
There is no ease in joy. The dead
relax. The mind dances like flame.”
Note: This is two sections from my long
poem Voca Me (latin for "call me"). It
is one of my "voices poems," in which
each stanza is spoken by a different
voice, though not a different person in
some cases. Other sections to follow in
the coming weeks.
