-
Stone Path Review, Volume 1
I am pleased to announce that Stone Path Review, Winter 2012 (volume 01-12) was released on New Year’s day, as planned. Featured are 3 poems, one by Allen Ginsburg; a prose piece; and nature photography. Please visit www.stonepathreview.com to read and comment on the issue. As we plan to publish quarterly, the next issue is…
-
Response to Northography – A Hanging in Mankato, Minnesota
Response to Northography #262 – A Hanging in Mankato, Minnesota http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=262 BEYOND WORDS What to say to the image let alone the story and the history. Here in the new year we reflect back upon our deeds and misdeeds upon that which defines and builds the core we take with us. On that day, truth…
-
Time and No-Time
Rivers flow from a source toward some destination, often into a larger collective of water. Some flow into and merge with other rivers, some flow to destinations we do not see, and cannot ever know, such as the Brule River falling into the Devil’s Kettle. Time flows into time and back into itself. Time is…
-
The End Becomes the Beginning
On this evening of one time period giving birth to another, one cannot help but to reflect back on all that has happened, and the impact these events have on each individually and collectively. What will the new time bring? We will continue to suffer, again individually and collectively? Will our spirit fight through the…
-
Tree
In the absence of time and place, compassion takes control and guides the way further down the path. The tree taken from the land has become a symbol wrapped in white lights and ornate glass painted bulbs. The tree spins and dances beneath the rising moon and in that darkness leaving here, I run into…
-
Birth and Death
There is a simple way to become a buddha: When you refrain from unwholesome actions, are not attached to birth and death, and are compassionate toward all sentient beings, respectful to seniors and kind to juniors, not excluding or desiring anything, with no designing thoughts or worries, you will be called a buddha. Do not…
-
Poem – Winter
Deep into December. Cold sun breaks through greyed and empty clouds. Bare skeleton trees hold the sky within elongated fingers. The clouds speed across the horizon. Deep into December and the frozen group is also bare. Browned land looks scarred and neglected. This season of death leaves open its secrets, the things we are not…
-
Music
The fragmented mind scattered across the landscape slows when the clouds depart and cold settles upon everything. There is music in that silence that each piece hears, ingests, and in turn emits a radiant light.
-
Chicago
Day 2 in Chicago and the skies have opened with rain through the 40-degree air. Sitting at Starbucks with my love, the coffee and words flow.
-
Cold
In the season of death when cold descends from out there to here, when thoughts and focus become singular, I feel the most alive.