We Lose Ourselves

Emptiness fills each porous thing. Density,

wonder, astonishment. Forests, rivers

change their course. We practice

mindfulness as hawks kill sparrows.

Beak and talons. Bloodless cuts. Authenticity

dissolves in soups of clichés. Mystic

vision. Ecstatic union, boundless light.

In medias res, life interrupted.

A cruel moon glimmers on the sea,

configured as desire. No one declares,

You are, neck-deep in Being, armored

against the void. Potent silences. Stones

stacked against tides. Crabs sidewind.

Shadow of the Other's face. Alienation.

We reflect half-truths as we dip into shallows.

Rafts of words. Labyrinths of sighs.

We seek only sky, light of memory, lure

of sorrow. Inattention abounds. Gardens

bloom with joy. Koans replicate like mutant cells.

Severed blisters. Transfiguration. Pity impales,

close and warm. The unruly unite, recalculate.

Worlds filter flames. Heat moistens brows. Present

future past present. Weight of the moon flattens the mind.

Tapestries of wisdom unravel in flight. Vertiginous

heights, dark rooms at night. Presence hardens like steel.

Forgiveness shapes nothingness into breath. All things

illuminate, rejuvenate. We lose ourselves in poems.

Queen Anne chairs crowd the floor. Thrones of the dead.