After the previous thought dissolves,
before the next one arises,
who are you?
The one who watches thoughts
cannot be a thought.
Now you are the ocean
of pure awareness
from whom worlds, stars, galaxies
bubble up like foam.
You are the silence that was here
before God said, Let there be light.
Why no repose
in the boundless dignity
of who you always
already are?
Those who dwell in the stillness
between thoughts
make peace.

Wandering Time ( a poem from 'Savor Eternity')

Words have served their purpose.
Now it’s time for brandied
moonlight in plum petals,
birds fermenting in vaults of holly,
burgundy midnight, the darker
stronger stuff of vintage silence.
It's wandering time, walk softly
in cedar amazement.
Savor the duration of a raindrop,
the ever-expanding moment
of a tongue-crushed huckleberry.
Lost all night in green inebriation,
listen as the planets sigh in pine branches.
Taste their distillate sparkle

in your heart's hollow.
Feel the Eros of transparency. 
Learn the art of not revealing
what you yearn to share

with every thirsty stranger.
Then your luster
will be like the moon

pulling on gardens from within.
Love is a secret, the Beloved is a secret,
you must be a secret too,
a hidden flowering that others
only scent in the darkness we all share.
Let each breath be an excess,
a sin of yearning for the blush concealed
in the modesty of blackness.
Come back tipsy, lover... do no speak
of what or whom you have known.

Summer Morning Gift

It took a whole lifetime
to become a simpleton.
I have understood at last
that at this very moment
there is no greater or
smaller, no more or less,
and nothing to compare.
There is only the gift
of Presence.
Every creature sparkles
with its own grace.
Friend, if you are ready
to die here and now,
accept the fragrance
of a late summer rose.
Plums are falling,
small and sweet,
into the birdbath.