Collages of my Poems by Rashani Réa

Click each Dharma Card to enlarge. Cards are 5x7, blank inside. Rashani's site also has beautiful coffee table art books, including one I did with her: 'Shimmering Birthless: A Confluence of Verse and Image' (LINK). Rashani's website: LINK


In addition to the Dharma Cards above, here a some other collages of my poems by Rashani. Some are pages from the book, 'Shimmering Birthless...'


What The Frog Taught Me

No thing is more significant
than any thing else.
The daring leap of a tree frog
from the spigot of your garden hose
to her sanctuary in a pot of begonias
is as important as the birth of a nation
or a typhoon in Bangladesh.

The universe is not only as you see it,
but as the frog sees it.

Your attention, focused on an
infinitesimal event,
magnifies its significance.
Otherwise, it's no more relevant
than a leaf in the wind.

Nothing is more arrogant
than assuming that your concern
should be someone else's.

The highest form of justice
is letting others create themselves
instead of trying to convert them
to your opinion.

Allow everyone to follow
the wondrous river of their own interest.
You don't need to convince anybody.
Just bathe them in the light
of awareness.

A philosopher said, 'Be kind,
for everyone you meet is struggling
in a great battle.'
A carpenter said, 'Judge not,
lest ye be judged.'

Here's a new idea:
Stop trying to change each other.
That would bring the most
radical transformation of all.
A tree frog told me this
early on Sunday morning.

Have you ever walked the labyrinth?
You pass someone, never knowing
who is nearing the center
and who is drifting further away.
This is compassion: never knowing.

You are not a pilgrim in the maze, friend.
You are the labyrinth itself.
There is room in your own lost heart
for all who wander, pathless and strange.

Don't Ask

Don't ask the Master for advice.
The best advice is the silence in your chest.

The Guru doesn't tell you what to do,
but simply reveals the stillness,
here, between breaths.

Someone asked, "What's the difference
between a Guru and a flower
or a raindrop?"
Ah, what a beautiful question!

I was not introduced to the majesty of a violet,
the divine authority of dissolving dew,
until Love anointed these eyes
with nectar from my own heart.

Love is formless, but very personal.
Then who gives Love her hands,
or swells the meniscus of Love's mouth
so that it spills with song?

Friend, Love appears in this body
to make surrender complete.
Shakti overflows into our flesh,
a kind of bread, an offering,
a mass that grows weighty in our fingers.

This is the freedom of Love:
from something that bursts deep inside us,
we are inexorably driven
to bow.

(Photo: my lovely friend, Dakota, receiving the darshan
of Anna Shri Karunamayi)


Mira, Francis, the Baal Shem Tov were anarkissed for love.
King David danced naked before the Ark, anarkissed for love.

With only a broken jug, a brick for a pillow, Rabia refused
the princes' hand: she was anarkissed for love.

Whitman, cummings, Teilhard de Chardin, all ambulance drivers
and poets who bound up warriors' wounds, anarkissed for love.

Jesus too, who burst the skin of the law with new wine,
shouting “I AM Anarkissed for love!”

Ferment your marrow, distil your blood.
Explode what contains you, drink who you are.

Burst the wine skin of Peter, Luther, Marx and Reagan,
the wine skin of Mohammed, he won't mind.

Burst the wine skin of government, the wine skin of belief.
Don't bottle your sparkling heart, be the hard stuff!

Ignite your nipples and boom like a fire rose!
Do not scrawl bison on the walls of your skull:

Scrawl the galaxies! Make timid people tipsy 
with laughter, then invite them to dance.

You won't see Kali's thousand-formed reflection
until you shatter the mirror of I.

Get beyond drunk and sober, violence and peace.
Live in the garden where lion-headed serpents

sing to the violin zebra, winged elks fly
through the ripeness of the pomegranate,

bridegrooms marry their brides with a kiss
that seals the crush and mingling of all berries.

Let every mouth be anarkissed for love!
This kingdom needs no king. 

These laws are inscribed in the palm of the hand
that holds a hoe or a soup pot.

Ideology dissolves into a tear. The revolution  
is to breathe, the radical act is Presence.

Mardi Gras (from 'Wounded Bud')

This mambo line we've been dancing in all night:
I've forgotten where it started, your place or mine?

And who are all these whirling fools,
Their hands on one another’s buttocks?

Preening, prancing, behaving like democrats,
Pointing their tail feathers up at the sun?

Oh I admit, I’m one of them,
Bragging about my torrid love affair with God,

Drinking too much and shouting,
"We weren’t invited to this! We just showed up!"

O Jesus, you were a homeless poet once,
Eating leftovers from the lawn parties of the upright.

You know what it means to scavenge among the wasted seeds,
Looking for the sprouted ones, the ones with laughter in them.

We're like jostling crows on a live electric wire,
inebriated with the voltage: everyone's looking for juice!

If one of us touches the ground, we're all dead.
But that won't happen: we're never coming down!

We only move in one direction now, like black flames.
So dizzy, so mad with midnight dancing,

Whirling out of your embrace, falling back into your heart,
I can't tell which of us I am!

I think I may be sober now in the stillness before dawn:
I can almost remember your name.

If I do, I won’t tell the others, I just want to know,
last night, was I the wine or the cup?