Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
“The harmony of this tune requires
you to be a connoisseur before you can appreciate it.”
Now it is 2013, not 2011. This could
be no other. It could not be written in 2011.
Meeting all of the dead: Living with
each other: A ghost of a chance to break free.
Still we lift everyone. Ever
reaching, this moment raised stands alone, a collaboration, but really, do I
know what you are saying or am I integrating you into my own fabric as in the
imagined one, the one who would cut off his arm to meet himself.
Meeting the dead who are everywhere
walking, standing, or talking.
Saying goodbye to our own wished for
beings that have never materialized – even if we believe and act as though they
have.
You are my teacher. Maybe so. Only in
the story, the imagined and named.
But the sweater unravels. No knots at
either end ~ the yarn not only comes from emptiness it returns to emptiness ~
is emptiness already without making and even as making. It is gone.
The tautology of the attempted
explanation of our being here…just keeps spiraling, but this is before the
spiral or even the fugue.
I am grateful to Nina Simone… without
whom, this particular book of poems would never exist.
I write for people, to people,
particular people; generators and recipients of words.
Some vague audience does not exist.
That’s not to say people who read these words who are not the generators
instigator recipients will not benefit from reading. It is just to say the benefit is in the
acknowledgment of the gift of inspiration and encouragement to come forward.
Without these people, dead and alive
and to be, truly far flung; more dead and we hope more to be than are right
now. But right now is when this reading takes place.
Not only is it intended to benefit
all being but it is the beneficiary of all beings coming forth from this inmost
request we all share and express so differently.
One heart blossoms cruel across the
dawn of word speaking.
John High introduces us to the land
of our making, Dongshan’s territory that can only be covered by each of us –
the territory that can only be covered for us by each of us – the territory no
one else can cover for us and which we are inspired, encouraged and welcomed to
by others – all others – the dead, the alive, the to be.
I am not talking about history. I am
talking about each of our lives an inheritance and gift, a direction of
gratitude and grace in a land of Love.
Utterance: the shape of the
choreography of our movement seeming through space but as space and not in time
but as time being; Only Love For The Time Being .
Kotatsu Roko
Monday, 11 February 2013
Prospect Hill
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