Michelia Champaca
We look for insights in your words,
your words, sometimes ripe plums
falling from before the Empty Aeon
feeding entire universes.
Is this primordial
or is that
primordial?
It’s not like there is going to be an answer
& it is not as though there isn’t going to be
an answer.
Who is this answer?
Walking à
just
|WALKING|
All my pants are dying
lost right here with holes in my thighs
dreams falling through cool breezes
lifting dust motes right here
where this Buddha from before
the Aeon of Emptiness alights
telephones salt & pepper coffee cup
napkin stainless steel cream pitcher.
All of them they are arriving
this is where I find myself standing
all of them arriving from
going to…
Extinction rises and vanishes
each moment calling
the cool breeze your voice
echoing across calling to be
gone all gone all ways
rising nothing
returns.
Emerging whale eyes barnacles brains
distraught chemicals appear as
this world of colorful emotions
nothing ever removed nothing
ever returns only turning
in this stillness the silence
of loons across lakes of dreams
complete utter darkness of
intimacy.
This is my work and no one else’s.
John Bailes, Kotatsu Roko
Prospect Hill
Thursday, 2 February 2012
