Michelia Champaca

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