In the white noise
of many opinions
I long to hear the silence
creatures make
when they are listening.
There is no thought,
only the mysterious harmony
of trees and raindrops.
Invisible things appear.
The deer step gently
out of the mist.
When we listen,
the heart opens
No need to defend itself.
No need to form an opinion
about anything.

(Photo taken on Mt. Tahoma,
hiking with my brother Dave)


Transmute the pollen of sexual yearning
to golden soul honey.
This is how to make flowers luminous
and all gardens share one light.
This is how cocoa beans ferment
and the tongue gets sweet without sugar;
how heaven and earth,
the sap and petal, fuse;
how Gopis are in love
and bridesmaids know the Groom.
On the borderline between
the body and its aura
there's a marketplace for atoms of delight.
The contraband is innocence,
the price, surrender.
Jesus was a bee-keeper,
Mary a maker of mead.
Keep this secret, and store up radiance.


Autumn crocuses
splashed with Summer's last sunbeam -
shadows deepening.