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Wolfku

Words and their
  glorious meanings
bridge the deepest
  chasms
  between us

::

a cold summer fog
grasses and flowers
hunker down, thinking:
  autumn

::

Can there be
a reason for living
other than
  finding a way out?

::

Survival in hell—
  I live: you die
  you live: I die
Zero-sum life

::

Creative Science

AMH*, the first
  assumption of Science
*A Miracle Happens

where

TBB* = AMH**
*The Big Bang
**A Miracle Happens

::

writing turns effortless
when words drop
  out of the clouds
and bounce just right

::

At birth
  the Universe expanded
  faster than light
How come, Einstein?

::

the first thing we do:
  we grasp the air
our final act:
  we let it go

::

ten little fingers
ten little toes
ever
  mortally
  distracting

::

the one thing we share:
  the stillness
inside you
  the stillness
inside me

::

I never did this
  to anyone
somebody must have
  hacked my karma

::

dry leaves
  tumble over themselves
  ahead of me, racing away
wind

::

the field of
  sun-swept daisies
to the bee:
  pick me, pick me
please, pick me

::

Delusion

There is an almost
  unseverable link
between beauty
  and sex

It works both ways:
  making us see
all things sexual
  as beautiful

::

a thought arises
  we have the choice:
  ignore
or slippery-slope it

::

trees in the meadow
  unfold a thousand
  light-green tongues
to lap the sun

::

Heaven?
  So many surprised
  and disappointed
suicide bombers

::

Counting Stars

we confuse at thousands
while God counts these
  trillions of trillions
  with ease

::

keeping track of
  everyone’s karma:
an administrative
  nightmare

::

and then I spun
myself inside
  a sweet chrysalis
  of memory

::

when we wish
  for nothing
we are finally
  complete

::

I am long and
  happily married
my wife: her name
  is Solitude

::

I wrap my thought
in summer paper
  pink haiku ribbon

::

The ego is the
highest, thickest wall
we can possibly
construct

::

The body is an idea
  gathered
  and maintained
by Gravity

::

I always thought
  that I was special
Now I see:
  those who helped
  were special

::

Bitter cross-winds
Views, like dung
  defile the path:
Teachers who disagree

::

A foghorn calls
A pigeon answers
Love, apparently

::

The gull flew so low
her wingtip
  brushed me
a soft, feathery kiss

::

The peace we feel
when letting go
is indistinguishable
from joy

::

How can so much
  agony even fit
upon a planet
  this small?

::

All sentient beings
  have an agenda
A goal, a thirst
  a hunger

There are a trillion,
  trillion agendas
Rarely do they
  coincide

I harmonize ours
When I
  wish you well

::

These days
We dig God
out of bodies
 as lead

::

Fresh cow dung
  in green grass
Big tongues lapping
  salt and sun
The child—Television

::

Hate is love
War is peace
  Olympic quality
  Mental gymnastics

::

I reached their camp
to set them free
but they no longer
knew me

::

What forum of approval
  do you suffer?
What judge
  do you appease?

::

Man, terrified of death
like a rabid dog
will bite the kindest hand

::

Crow
  baby sparrow in his beak
  chased in air
Screaming sparrow mother

::

Then God thought:
  I’m in this
  together

::

The now is so short
that our senses reach
  awareness
as what once was

::

I seem to have
  misplaced
  my anger engine
No great loss

::

Words are
  a springboard
to their meanings

::

I wished them all well
the Ego-Flower said:
  Wish me weller
  than them

::

Pebbles
  Tarred and hogtied
Hordes of screaming
  Sycophant Wheels
Asphalt Hell

::

Distant
  Morning thunder
Soft and scary
Raindrops

::

Space exists
to introduce
  and interpose
Distance

::

Waiting for the sun
A lake of lilies, heads bowed
Listening for light

::

Hush, hush roll the waves
imploring my silence
  more loudly than I am

::

God is a spiritual
  Intelligence
Far, far greater
  than mine

::

An answer arrives:
—Is it Know?
—Is it Convinced?
There is a difference

::

Joy is our
  native condition
Let go all non-joy
  and there is joy

::

Seals bark, crows argue
The fog conceals them
Voices betray them

::

My heart left open
Rusted hinges
It is cold in here

::

Nothing is so small
that you cannot
cut it in half

::

The self is a
  self-made
  Procrustean bed
of little comfort

::

Man at his best
cares about all life
Man at his worst
wants to kill it

::

Wild horses
Salty spray manes
A windy day

::

To toss my story
  into the fire:
<ctrl-A>, Delete

::

We live in a
greed-based
  economy

::

Is there a
  demarcation point
  between lives?
Or do we
  overlap?

::

Above body-mind:
  Free thought
Above free thought:
  Nirvana

::

 All Religions
are but discussions
about the
  undiscussable

::

Broken promises
Unsurprising uprising
No more prison walls

::

The human thirst for
admiration is a thirst
both deep and fatal

::

2,000 African children
starved to death
  yesterday
Why no headlines?

::

The path is clear
only when I look
with an undistracted
  focus

::

Where do I end
and You begin?

::

Byways and byways
I have traveled little else
Still I arrive

::

The weave of life
Its trillion, trillion threads
I am weave
I am thread

::

The mortal fusion
of spirit with flesh
—Superglue

::

Life is true joy
up to its neck
in fake misery

::

Osprey in flight
  Such hungry grace
Better hide

::

These words
  are but ballet shoes
    as I pirouette
      down the page

::

Discipline:
  Spiritual
  scaffolding

::

Listening closely
I could hear her sing:
“Bach is God”

::

Letting go of existence
does not lead to
non-existence