it’s a day late but here it is: my monthly buddhist carnival, serving up interesting little tidbits from the buddhist blogosphere. we always start with a poem. how bitter, how blue is the anger! at the bottom of the light in april’s atmospheric strata, spitting, gnashing, pacing back and forth, i am asura incarnate this… Continue reading may 2010 buddhist carnival
unable to hear internet legend’s bryan alexander’s keynote address at northern voice (the reverb was awful), i decided to turn it into an experiment. for about 15 minutes, i recorded the words i could hear (maybe every 10th word or so), then i categorized them and turned them into an improv style remix. here is… Continue reading bryan alexander improv
white and open, this sheet for me. forty-four years now of fascination and no end in sight. every time i see an open field like this, it fills me with anticipation. dream landscapes, i’m sure, completely sure, are ready under this thick snow blanket, ready to form and roll and move at any time. all… Continue reading juicy paper
when your voice doesn’t come out and you hear someone else sing and more voices run around in your mind when you see lights left right center when the rattling comes at you and the heat and the radiation when you keep beating up your head how can it work how are you supposed to… Continue reading voices – napowrimo day 24
when i was in germany, i picked up a slim little book of poetry, die gebete der demut (prayers of humility) by french poet francis jammes. he lived from 1868 to 1938. the poetry foundation says about him that he was … best known for his poetry of the natural world, in which he praised… Continue reading prayer to be simple
blossoms, grass, wind – i inhale with all my pores this rich april night i’m not the only one writing haiku these days. disordered cosmos does, too, describing her (his?) PhD, the metaphoratorium has something to say about the rosetta stone, and these people do it all backwards.
i wanted to stop this insanity and pushed and cajoled. myself, of course. no-one else is the maker, the doer, the procreator of this continuous dross. dross, people, is a mass of solid impurities that floats on molten metal. so this dross, it stuck to me in the form of wasting my time, treating it… Continue reading dross – a sonnet
turquoise alabaster veins run through a bright forest of rocks somewhere in a corner of my imagination. the cat makes cracking noises as she eats her food, the daughter clicks and clickclickclicks the mouse, and somewhere over in a corner of my imagination there sits a little treasure that i want to catch. the phone… Continue reading napowrimo, day 13: trying to write a poem