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)

Anarkissed

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.