O The Abyss

O the abyss between two ways!
One way is returning
To your heart,
The other is dissolving
The path that you imagine
Leads there... 
Friend, you are already home.
Why worry about the wrong turn?

Can water be caught in the net?
Let those who believe in the difference
Between Yes and No
Guide each other up and down

From the belly to the mind,
While you and I bask

In God's lazy light
Sipping from the brimful cup

Of emptiness, here
Where the breast bubbles with suns
And lifetimes of teardrops
Become wine.


Why not welcome the animal
who lives in your chest
like the furry foundling
wandering in midnight avenues?
You did not ask its pedigree.
You just took that trembling ball
of matted warmth into
your home and fed it
every morning before
you fed yourself.
In the evening, you let it
curl in the curves of
your breathing, almost
inside you, it's scent
becoming yours, a musk
of mingled bodies.
Why not honor the wanderer
who lives under your
breastbone that way?
Adopt your heart.


What remains when Yes
and No dissolve? 
My Gurudev.
Sometimes you are
the moon among pearls
on the golden string of my
astonished breath,
sometimes sapphire eyes,
lips, the countenance
that gazed me down
into the womb whispering,
"Don't be afraid, numberless
angels wait their turn
for this birth."
Sometimes you are the ancient
forest, din of rainbow
bird and silence
of flowers, those open mouths
of wonder.
Sometimes the perfume
of forgetfulness, nothing more 
than a razor wave of Presence,
a lingering exhalation 
in my bamboo spine,
your hands playing
over me so quietly -
Yes, you are the night.
No, I am full of
empty places.
All names and forms are
veils of love.
Therefor I am fearless.

Dedicated to the humble labor of my beloved friends who spread the power of the healing breath and teach the Art of Living.

A dear friend wrote me that they couldn't make sense of "razor wave" and "lingering exhalation," so I offer these notes:

"Sharp as a razor's edge is the path." (Katha Upanishad). The cutting edge of the present moment is all that really exists, yet if we do not ride it skillfully, it is gone.

The out-breath stops and lingers, reposing in the space where worlds are created. "The supreme Goddess, whose nature is to create, constantly expresses herself as exhalation and inhalation. By resting awareness in the space in the heart, between the descending and ascending breaths, one experiences Bhairava, the source of creation." (Vijnana Bhairava)

Your Chest Is A Field

Your chest is a field of light
encircling every forest
in an emerald droplet.

If you need abundance
praise something very small,
a child, a wayfaring cat.

Better give thanks
for the humblest miracle
than be anxious for global 

This is the secret 
about our energy:
gratitude expands the chest,
worry contracts it.

Our world will be gone 
in a moment,
but we still have time 

to breathe.
Why not bring home 

billions of suns with your 
next inhalation?
An undulating sorrow 
in the hollow from throat 
to belly might become 
the boundless sphere
of golden joy.

One wild crocus in 
the meadow of desolation
might be the center
of a New Earth.

This isn't just pretend,
it's the way Christ sees
the lilies. 

So'ham... One breath
redeems everything.

Poem for the Harvest Moon

It makes me want to dance, remembering the truth:

This ephemera called life, reflection of radiant stillness
on ripples of voluptuous night.

The harvest moon's message is such silent thunder
between my eyebrows.

I bathe in a beam that lasers my breath into a string of pearls;
I am reminded of my vow.

No separation, no superiority, no inferiority, no equality!

Every prism'd facet of this jewel an effulgent rainbow
made of every other.

I am you, You are I, each of us unique.

O Shyama Sundara, O Radha, O spellbound motionless
pure erotic Dancer in the Christall center of my Heart!