Friday, June 24, 2011

The Breeze















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

What is the breeze other than

children’s laughter,
last breaths,
and lover’s kisses blown
as hopes and despairs
in the same desirous language
the world over?

Wing beats of butterfly and bird,
and the angel you refuse to acknowledge,
all trying to nudge
the Wanderer of you
into the vacant arms of The Great Mystery.

Leaf slides against leaf
like a bow rides a string during
the third course of
instrumental love making.

“Shhhhh,” they say to every other name
but the one that has been
trying to reach your parched lips
since the moment of your
well-intended conception.

It could all begin with
the nerve endings
in your skin.

When will you stop ignoring
that which touches you?


© 2011-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

(Fee free to share)

Friday, June 10, 2011

To Be Moved

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Finally I have meditated
long enough
to realize
stillness is a ruse.

Everything riding this
rotund blue dervish
is in constant motion.

What the honeysuckle-infused breeze
asks of us
is not contemplative passivity,

But an active surrender to the possibility
of being moved.


© 2011-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in"Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

(Feel free to share)

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Akhilandeshvari’s Crocodile



















Photo: Akhilandeshvari - Hindu goddess "Never Not Broken"

Sometimes it seems like
your entire world is
in a tail spin.

Everything moves so fast that
focus and certainty
become nothing more than the
theoretical constructs

you obligingly recount
in stories wailed to your old self
with a sense of foolish piety.

Welcome aboard.

You’re riding the scaly back
of Akhilandeshvari’s crocodile.

Around and around you go.

Weeeeee!

Let’s See:

How many pieces have you broken into?

Count them.

There’s a pretty good chance
that the head has been severed
at the neck

and the heart has been
sliced open.

“Cosmic surgery!”
gleefully shout the mystics
in all the Truth traditions.

“Spinning,
when invoked with courageous intent,
can nourish the body and soul,”
they say.

Have you not noticed
the feverish whirl
of their dance,
instruments,
and tongues?

Torn apart from the masks,
self betrayals,
and toxic aphrodisiacs
in all forms and strides,

Your inventory will reveal that
all that no longer serves
has been purged from your
own reptilian being.

It is impossible for you
to reconstruct
what was.

Yeah!

Congratulations –
you’ve had a complete break down.

The dark ferryman will help you
disembark from the crocodile
at the next bridge crossing.

When he does,
look for the sign.

It will read something like this:

“Only you know the way.”

Oh, and re-member to thank
the crocodile.

If you look closely,
you’ll catch a glimpse
of your indestructible beauty
reflected in his tears.


© 2011-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems" (www.hiraethpress.com) 

(Feel free to share. Poetry is meant to move.)