tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59021032008-03-17T21:15:39.241-04:00Dharma CrumbsDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1153137386006748942006-07-17T07:55:00.000-04:002007-02-17T17:16:30.860-05:00Two Realms
Armies Of IsraelSlam, slash, bash-inCrush walls Targeted neighborhoods Are gutted looking for David Bombs, ships, jets slaughterYour homeYour brothers daughter
Iron bent, wrenchesWails
HezbullaIt's slings, stones
Legions of pin pricks Bleeding Haifa
Missile through the roof A stolen boy GodsDemi-GodsIn the aged struggleNever settledIn all this time Lebanon: We've been here beforeDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1141580624664125002006-03-05T12:43:00.000-05:002006-03-10T14:32:28.483-05:00Seven words for G.W.Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo GuantanamoDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1141487304175251882006-03-04T10:46:00.000-05:002006-08-06T15:55:36.106-04:00Object Of Respect Tim and his brother Pete and I Walk the streets of New York The two of them Buddhists And I wannabe maybe I took the road trip with Tim down from Rochester Thru-Way east and south Tim winding his way till we get to 8th street Petes one room apartment His Gohonzon, Nicherin Soshu object of respect, shrine The main focus in the room We bow And fall out the door Tim slides down the cast iron Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1138971812420922892006-02-03T08:02:00.000-05:002006-02-03T08:03:32.433-05:00down then overwindshield sweep
after hours
of gutter droneDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1136755403929313932006-01-08T16:07:00.000-05:002006-01-26T15:26:21.496-05:00The Miraculous Dragon FlyIn 1995 we were on a family summer vacation, on Stonington Deer Island off the coast of Maine. I rise before the rest of the family most days. I seek the quest time to ponder or wander or do meditation.
It had rained all night but it was a bright sunny morning. I decided to climb the the hill across the street and look out at the ocean. It was one large chunk of rock and I scrambled up using Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132430977913582612005-11-19T15:09:00.000-05:002006-07-11T09:46:13.180-04:00Mind FartListening to an mp3
I hear my old friend laughing
long hair
and ear-ring
white teeth
and wide smile
rain
falling in the mountainsDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132411081747396732005-11-19T09:38:00.000-05:002005-11-19T16:07:14.676-05:00November on the North Coast
Cold gray slab of cloud
it could be granite
or glacier
sliding frozen, down
from Ontario.Thirty degrees
and falling
everything sinking
a compressing weight.Snow crust on the telephone line
looping low over the street
sagging and still.November
has remembered the Genesee,
turned,
glanced over.Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132362617714084792005-11-18T20:10:00.000-05:002005-11-18T20:10:17.720-05:00Retreat RideThe muddy ruts of the cornfield
already cut, mashed and ploughed under,
with occasional stalks amputated at the knee.An old wreck of a house (now a shack)
with a sag-gut front porch and the roof about to collapse.
All shades of grey in the patched tar-shingle walls
falling into the crumbling morning.Rounding the bend, sun tumbles through fall leaves Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1126724999728010222005-09-14T15:09:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:35:54.996-05:00Brown NeckWednesday afternoon
Half day
builder nailing a roof outside
cool beer
slides down the brown neckDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1126724173460249652005-09-14T14:47:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:40:25.806-05:00Breathingsitting, following breath
droplet of sweat sliding
between shoulder-blades
scrape and whine of the rotating fan
just about to returnDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1125279217519042082005-08-28T21:26:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:38:57.983-05:00Prioritiestonight there is tonglen
for a woman
near a ranch
somewhere in texas (little t)
black presidential (little p) lemo
flags quick-flap
leading the tinted glass
death in iraq
somehow less important
than kicking up dust
in her faceDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124648164625114142005-08-21T14:13:00.000-04:002005-11-25T02:08:10.043-05:00Shadow Mindsummer afternoon
sunday
old asian buddha
carved in wood
on the window
shaddow
thrown on ceiling amid
wavering
leavesDavehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124417805956714882005-08-18T22:16:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:29:30.226-05:00Abraxas: revisitedAbraxas black mother reclined and shining in flood of color Red-blue winged sky dancer dakini flitting across the cover Santana Santana Santana Santana Abraxas crystal breasted mother of 1970 ecstasy rhythm dance heat summer midnight smoke Abraxas pot mother mary jane sister lover of sweat filled holy night Were you really Troma whom I could not handle in my youth? Were you Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124417642477018382005-08-18T22:13:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:36:38.166-05:00from EpistlesEpistle 1: To Hungry Poets raised, ruled, ridiculed, run off it has been beaten into us no emotion, no cry not on the street not in the house of our own fathers nor the ship nor enterprise or August 1999, He returned: from high snowy peaks above the sub-continent (o Milerepa in your cave in Labchi how did you survive eating how could Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124243496464206092005-08-16T21:50:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:34:27.706-05:00Blow (Santa Cruz your mountains crumbling into the sea your green Pacific eyes of a blonde I met here once rode off on the back of a bike clutching the ribs of an Australian hurricane blow-out, up from Mexico wind rip-snapping my tent Brian to me: you should dig a trench around your tent it's gonna rain like a mama once Brian got up to cook breakfast Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1107552005972540962005-02-04T16:16:00.000-05:002005-11-25T00:33:33.136-05:00SamsaraSwerve of a car
simple as rain
little Nicole gone
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1105672497850582102005-01-13T22:09:00.000-05:002005-11-25T00:34:35.763-05:00Winter Dark PracticeThe morning dark is practice.
The evening dark is practice.
The midnight dark is practice.
The four AM dark is practice.
So much dark in the winter months of daily work.
Ony practice in daylight on the weekends.
So different from summer.
Yet always there is:
Om Ah Hung Vajra Guru Pema Tro Treng Tsal Vajra Samaya Dza Siddhi Pala Hung Ah
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1104330848404422702004-12-29T09:30:00.000-05:002005-11-24T22:41:13.680-05:00MissingThis year I can not fly to the coast for the yearly retreat. Although I will go later in the year I still feel myself missing the trek. Not part of the local mandala.
Snow drips from the eves
weeds sticking up
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1102137320684501972004-12-04T01:12:00.000-05:002005-11-24T23:21:06.046-05:00Wisdom LamaHaving driven all day up-mountain to see the lama
we sit and have tea looking out off the mountain
down into Santa Cruz valley
My Son sitting next to me, this is a smile
to pass this on
no time, only duration
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1102136198481337002004-12-03T23:53:00.000-05:002005-11-24T23:20:03.226-05:00Lake BornBeen practicing Lakeborn vajra a lot this week. Before bed, 4 am, driving in the car, walking in the snowy wind.
Snow wind blows through appearances
drifts of mind cascade across the open field
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095898229679568832004-09-22T20:04:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:27:42.566-05:00Channel GroundsCBS/NBC/ABC/PBS
All terror all the time
The terror of beheading
or another sound
another bite of Bush or Kerry
Fox is just another black hole
burnt charred bone
burried brain in brine
time maybe to call out
with thigh bone trumpet
here in this channel ground
Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095865415084819132004-09-22T11:03:00.000-04:002004-09-22T11:03:35.083-04:00PaperFrog.com: A Buddhist-inspired journalPaperFrog.com: A Buddhist-inspired journalThe eye of the storm
As I write — just before midnight Wednesday — the eyewall of Hurricane Ivan is about 40 miles due south of me near the mouth of Mobile Bay. We’re getting battered by hurricane force winds, but there’s still power and internet access here and there.
Ivan has been impressive. Tropical storm winds arrived at sunset. They’ve steadily Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095863723559331282004-09-22T10:35:00.000-04:002004-09-22T10:35:23.560-04:00Rigzin's Tibet BlogRigzin's Tibet Blog: "As we resumed our trip we began to see the beautiful variety of landscape and architecture that characterizes the Tibetan countryside. the valleys had become wider now and the road almost always followed a river. The mountains, worn with age, were rounded and covered in an emerald green velvet carpet. Summer wildflowers of yellow, red, blue and white shimmered on the lush Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095861220069886102004-09-22T09:47:00.000-04:002004-09-22T09:56:01.963-04:00Traffic BlissSitting on the sofa
late Saturday night
Stevie Winwood on PBS
then all becomes pure sound
moment then flicker moment
into the stream of rainbow shimmer....
Driving up Five-Mile-Line road in the morning
of going to work in the corporate world
of designing in UML and codeing in C#
the sun shining brightly in this early autumn
I stop for the red light
the rosey white HRI
spinning in Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1093920361328221532004-08-30T22:45:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:39:52.120-05:00Where are we?Just drifting? Just waiting? Just praying?
Always moving, always doing what is expected, always going through the motions...
The incense brings a fog of clarity [ is that possible? Well it brings with the cloud a feeling ]... Ah, that is what one should be doing.... Accepting, adjusting, but yet atrophied over what you cannot seem to change...
Everything seems destructive. BUT, keep Janetnoreply@blogger.com