Posts Tagged ‘loss of separate self’




And once again the invitation

to see beyond the self—

the way water knows itself

not only as river and lake

but also as fern, as cloud, as cat.

Forgive me for believing

I end with this skin, these ideas,

these imaginings. Sometimes

I forget to choose vastness,

forget to know the self

as cliff, as maitake, as crumb.

How is it I so often miss the invitation?

How is it I overlook that I

am lemon, asteroid, wren?

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And what did you do with your lost hour?

            —Harry Teague



Well, I didn’t sleep, that’s for sure,

nor did I bake bread. Didn’t practice piano

or write a poem, skate ski or do sumo squats.


Neither did I throw javelins.

Nor fake my own death in a gruesome car accident,

nor steal modern art nor moon rocks nor whiskey.


I didn’t spelunk. Didn’t sink in a ship.

Didn’t crawl through the sewer.

Didn’t get a tattoo. Didn’t twerk.


Perhaps there was part of me

that did what I am always trying to do—

untether from time and lose all sense


of who I am and what I think and

what comes next and how it’s supposed to be—

yeah, I’d like to believe that for a lost hour


perhaps some part of me thrived and joined

with the universe so completely that it knew itself

as the dawn that comes when it comes.

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And again the world tumbles me

and again I emerge smoother, softer,

less sharp, less whole. Someday I will be

less solid, less myself, more a part of everything,

more a grain of sand that knows itself as one of many, easily

moved by the current, until finally, I

am less sand, more sea.

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And all at once the field

turns white with froth

as yellow tubes

of chamisa blooms

are lost, their perfect

composition giving way

to lathered dross.


The soul takes note—

considers how all patterns

come to naught

before rebuilding.


Some part of us resists.

Some part can’t wait

to lose its shape

and weave itself into

the larger cloth.



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What are the flags for?
I don’t know, but they flutter
frayed in the wind.
Perhaps our own undoing
is this beautiful.

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into the morning sun
oh and oh!
so sweet to be

my own light
so little
and not

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