Stroke Recovery Support Group

I remember when I spoke of the tube that went in my belly, and that I had to fill every night, and how filling it by myself was a big step in my recovery. And I remember them all rolling their eyes in acknowledgment. They knew.

Recent Poetry

Stroke

Sometimes I overhear a conversation
I would have passionately
been a part of,

The Bodhisattvas of In-Between

Recent Poetry

The Saints of Discontent

There comes a person now and then

Whose malice fairly cries to heaven,

Whose animosity’s a ten

Upon a scale of one to seven.

New Poetry

Post-Sesshin

Having spent a week at the heart of all things,

I feared I might miss it, but as it turned out,

The center of the cosmos kindly followed me,

Remaining just under my feet wherever I went,

Until it was at last  revealed to be  located

Just under yours as well. Then

I saw a musrkat in Irkutsk on

The TV, and it turned out to be

Under his too.

New Poetry

Eschatology

The little time that we have left

Before our mortal race, I fear,

Renders planet Earth bereft

Of us, grows shorter every year.

Heretic's Testament

“Yet contemplation is not vision, because it sees 'without seeing' and knows 'without knowing.' It is a more profound depth of faith, a knowledge too deep to be grasped in images, in words, or even in clear concepts. It can be suggested by words, by symbols, but in the very moment of trying to indicate what it knows, the contemplative mind takes back what it has said, and denies what it has affirmed. For in contemplation we know by 'unknowing.' Or, better, we know beyond all knowing or 'unknowing.’” —Thomas Merton, from New Seeds of Contemplation