unnamed and named~~

 

Appearance

of an unnamed bird

was named by

a birdbook suggesting

separation

from nature~or 

perhaps a new

naming

Appearance~~

Ahra Ahra

Well.. this cannot be known what is.

It might appear expressed or labeled as music, description, contemplation, awakening, falling asleep.. 

But, none of these labels actually mean anything nor describe the indescribable.

And whatever appears interpreted as, it's simply not the case and appears as all cases.

It's not something that can be distinguished, so therefore, this, is simply unknown, expressing. 

It's not expressing to anyone, for anyone, against anyone.

It's simply what is.

It has no remarks, no demands, no destination, and no distance whatsoever.

It's not a deliverance.

It's not a letter.

It's not an co-opting.

It's not a pursuing.

There's no one to be pursued.

So, by all means, questions arise :

"Who is this expressing to, and why?"

And all that's said, is all that's said.

And is that simple.

A flower doesn't get to be asked why she blooms, beyond all apparent romantic notions and philosophical inquiries, there's an obviousness of a flower, simply flowering, not being questioned. 

She does not ask why you assume separation in/as the starring and inquiry.

First of all, a flower doesn't know it flowers. 

And that's it.

Just simply that.

conventional beliefs~

 

Separation in 

its infinite guises

are conventionally

unquestioned~

no notice of the

immediacy and

emptiness of 

this assumption

seemingly

flagging the

conventional~~

between implies three~~

 

between

implies three

and nothing

appears

that way~~

Boom..!!

 

No-separation

Boom!~~

This..

No further discussion~~

Paths and mysteries~

 

Paths

seem inviting~ 

unfolding what is

presently unfolded~

perhaps

seeming as

departing from

what is already 

not folded

not unfolded~~

Darkness~

 

Darkness

outlines what 

appears as light

seeming as two~

'let there be light'

is a story

of the kick-off 

of the dream~~

Empathy~

 

Empathy

an appearance

of shared suffering 

arising which may

suggest 

no-separation...

Timespans~

 

Immediacy

appears 

offering recalled

moments as

immediacy~

conditioning seems

to assert what

cannot be 

Asserted~~

My absence~~

 

But

I don't want for 

it to appear that

I am not here~

My absence

is not what 

I am looking for~

Unchanging~~

 

Unchanging

appears as change~

the uninvited

appearance of this 

story may birth

an unknowing

which is already

synonymously

Unchanging~~

"Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,"

Is there no change of death in paradise?

Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs

Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,

Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,

With rivers like our own that seek for seas

They never find, the same receding shores

That never touch with inarticulate pang?

Why set the pear upon those river-banks

Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?

Alas, that they should wear our colors there,

The silken weavings of our afternoons,

And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!

Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,

Within whose burning bosom we devise

Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.

~~Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning

All bets are off..

 

If no-separation is what is 

then all bets are off~

appearances arise

which are not explainable

and any explanations 

are appearances arising~ 

seems like some 

Sunday morning simplicity. 

Station of the Metro..

 

Perceptions

of that coffee pot

are unending~

there are slants

which creep in

multiplying 

perceptions that

seem far removed~

these words offer

one more~~ 

In a Station of the Metro

By Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:

Petals on a wet, black bough.

An ordinary spoon~

 

Sudden

without warning

emptiness appears

as an ordinary spoon~

and a story may be told

of an extraordinary

explosion

Sudden

without warning~~

Being and Strangeness~~

 

Being

no clarification

but already 

appearing as 

a fox

a dandelion

without any

splitting of the

impossibility~~

Strangeness

the grotesque

the starkness

the edginess~

miraculous stories

all courtesy of

appearing separation~~

Ice-Cream seems~~

 

"Let be be finale of seem."

Be

the clothesline

the walker

the morning

the red car

the ice cream~

these seem

to be~

not always

disguises of

Be~~

Be

is alone and

empty but

vitally 

seeming to

Be~~

Seem~

appearances 

already seem

as the

emperor of ice-cream~~

Call the roller of big cigars,

The muscular one, and bid him whip

In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.

Let the wenches dawdle in such dress

As they are used to wear, and let the boys

Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.

Let be be finale of seem.

The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,

Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet

On which she embroidered fantails once

And spread it so as to cover her face.

If her horny feet protrude, they come

To show how cold she is, and dumb.

Let the lamp affix its beam.

The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

~~Wallace Stevens, The Emperor of Ice-cream

Fools gold~~

 

No answers~

Answers claim to be 

The gold being sought~

The answer's presence 

in the field of separation 

is fools gold 

Unless gleaming 

and not gleaming

as nothing~~

Immediacy..

 

Immediacy

a word about which

nothing can be said

without the entry

of a story of time~

and even this word

may seem to

recall all those

stories~

a suggestion of

no-path to freedom~~

Friendship~

 

Friendship

smooths the bumps

in our stories

offering respite from

the bumpiness of

what seems as

life as it is~yet

these are words 

which may suggest

that respite may

appear as 

bumpiness~~

Seems seems liberating..

 

A birdcall 

seems distant and

seems not~

seems

seems as the

liberating word

and seems not~

Passwords~~

 

Nothing

seems as the

password for ~~

although

impossibly

Everything

seems to

work too~~

Not~~

 

Not~

what is separately 

seen is not~but seems

anyway~a story

not seen by someone

seeking 

Not~~

The old days~~

 

The old days

have never 

been old~but

stories ride in

bearing nostalgic

or bitter trappings

and perhaps joy

for an equality

of all stories

beyond words~~

certainty~~

 

Knowledge

is all appearance~

nothing

appearing

as knowledge

ends the certainty

and arrogance

of all

Knowledge~~

Story as identity~~

 

The story

as an identity

names what

I am~

The story

as a story 

names 

liberation~

another story?

liberation 

may appear as

identity~~

Nothing

doing 

renders an

appearance of

doing~~

Quantum dance~~

 

Particles and waves

appear in a

quantum dance

observed by no one~

these observations of

nothing may be named

This~~

Nothing is already perfect~~

 

Nothing

is already perfect

as it is~

so the story is

let's go ahead

and perfect things~

yet how is

nothing perfected?~~

Sunday Morning~~Death is the mother of beauty~

 

"Death is the mother of beauty;"

Death

as nothing is

not separate from

beauty~

death is

mother appearing

as beauty~

resulting in This

as it is~~~

She says, “But in contentment I still feel

The need of some imperishable bliss.”

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,

Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams

And our desires. Although she strews the leaves

Of sure obliteration on our paths,

The path sick sorrow took, the many paths

Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love

Whispered a little out of tenderness,

She makes the willow shiver in the sun

For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze

Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.

She causes boys to pile new plums and pears

On disregarded plate. The maidens taste

And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.

~~Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning

Sage advice~

 

These

words are

describing the search~

an escape from

what is:

which is these words

appearing as

sage advice~~

From the shadows~

 

ravages

of work and days

gather in wrinkles

and quiet strength

and confidence 

from the shadows~

emptiness appearances

in a photo~

Outdoorsman~~

 

i

outdoorsman

dressed for indoors

and propriety

roles appearing

in imagined

framing in

times and places~~

Saturday musings~~

 

Saturday musings~~

The

dance of seeming

opponents

which separation

makes apparent~

may suggest the

end of the gold

sought in separation~~~

Blood

flows apparently

and does not~

without not

the flow is lost~~~

Nothing

cannot be named

but the naming

of something

may seem

good enough~~~

Everything

is incalculable 

even something~

consequently

not knowing is

free to know

and not know~~~

Doing

is the suggestion

for progress~

working on a path

to the better~

it appears that way~~~

Faulty

are all words

in expressing

the inexpressible~

the prison bars

of confinement

and freedom~~~

Clockwork

seems the story

which time

captures~

interpreted as

suffering and

freedom

without escape~~~

religion

often compared

unfavorably with

nature~

and of course

the same 

in reversal~

until both are

found as 

appearances

simply arising~~~

electricity

has never been

identified but

as unknown~

neither has

anything else~~~

nightfall

suggestions

of rest and

romance~

an emptiness

brimming with

stories~~~

AI

is sweeping

storyland~

telling tales

seemingly 

without effort

and time~

nothing may

seem new~~~

permanence

may seem as

an anchor to

incessant movement

and insistence~

these words reflecting

turmoil and hope

standing for all stories

seeming to mask

unconditional freedom~~~

experts

seem as plentiful

pointing to paths

for fulfillment~

and sometimes to

paths never ending~

undermined it seems

by an emptiness

of all words~~~

faith and works~

death in

separation~

and life as

both and neither~~~

birdsong

a pleasantry 

of a moment~

a deception of

its eternity

or not~~~

Shifting of~~ centers

 

No center

but there seems

a shifting of centers

in separation's 

unending glances

with a shifter

pointing to a

center in play

and the play

seeming to 

convince and continue~~ 

Tree rings~~

 

A tree

seemingly marks time

with those rings

which appear

all at once

with other unconnected

and unexpected

risings of This~~

framing the unsingled..

 

framing

of the unframed

singling out

for the attention

of what seems

cluttered 

unfocused

unsingled~~

Yet it may seem~~

 

Fast paced

it seems in a 

crowded and busy

world

with respites few

illnesses of ease

and interruptions many~

seeming impossibility

that nothing is happening

yet it may seem~~

Immediacy is the dance~

 

Immediacy

is the dance~

and not even

Immediacy~~

No center..

 

No center

a center separates~

no-center

seemingly is 

synonymous with

autonomy's ending

and a felt sense of

freedom~

Light and darkness appear~~

 

Light

appears

so does

darkness~these

appearances of

inexplicable

emptiness

and fullness

as not two~~

Denying emptiness..

 

a word 

appears to

proclaim 

separation 

each time

it appears~

seemingly

denying it's

emptiness~

and writes

an unending

story

Getting off the train~~

 

Getting 

off the train at 

no place perhaps

named nothing~

arriving at nothing

finding the splendid

array of imagination~

nothing appearances

everywhere and

nowhere and

the end of surprises

and searching~

a storied peaceful

arrival~~

A me and not a me~

There is a

me and not~

me and not

are not 2~~

no ?? ~~

 

no  ??  ~~

may seem as

death

to what follows~

except that

there is no

yes without

no

what is this?

 

What is This?

nothing can be said 

apparently

no time and distance 

for figuring This out~

language opts out

without subj and obj~

nothing makes sense 

nothing to explain

so say nothing

which is everything~~

Sunday Morning pigeons..

 

That

is not known

cannot be known

but pigeons may

appear and may seem

in the evening

as dancing and

not separate from that 

which is not known~

And, in the isolation of the sky,

At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make

Ambiguous undulations as they sink,

Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

~Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning