I thought, that day I started, I sure would hate to do this all my life, And dammit, that’s just what I’ve gone and done.

My Grandmother standing wordless fifteen minutes Between rows of loganberries, clippers poised in her hand.

Clouds sink down the hills Coffee is hot again. The dog Turns and turns about, stops and sleeps.

The other side of the "sacred" is the sight of your beloved in the underworld, dripping with maggots.

Being the Stream Meditation is not just a rest or retreat from the turmoil of the stream or the impurity of the world. It is a way of being the stream, so that one can be at home in both the white water and the eddies. Meditation may take one out of the world, but it also puts one totally into it.

I never find words right away. Poems for me always begin with images and rhythms, shapes, feelings, forms, dances in the back of my mind.

Gratitude to the Great Sky who holds billions of stars - and goes yet beyond that - beyond all powers, and thoughts and yet is within us - Grandfather Space. The Mind is his Wife