Late at Night, River Voices and Mountain Forms
Welly so windy. You wouldn’t know
as a strictly herbivorous sea mammal,
living 80 years eating sea grass.
Gun owners are unhappy; Dairy owner resists gun threat. “Someone is going to die”
Childcare workers warn of dangerous intersection, Dead rats are thrown at footballers.
Nasa examines 'extreme' NZ rain, video footage of an entire river just disappearing
And the ex-Pope celebrates his birthday with beer at 12:16pm.
Giant grey gulls on my morning stomp,
Billboards of the latest filmic apocalypse about American soldiers who battle living dinosaurs on a tropical island during World War II
Middle-aged contract workers on scaffolding.
The invisible hand swirls and the Ramsay kids won’t be getting Gordon’s fortune, sources say.
A dull moisture morning,
Jalen Henderson 1 year ago
I don't know how to leave my mind alone. T_T
David Kramer 2 years ago
This is exactly why I float in a sensory deprivation tank regurlarly.
logiworker 2 years ago
I understand no word, but I feel it.
Rino M 2 years ago
i love my self, i wish i loved others more awsell, and partying.. it all fits just that my escape is solitude, to a point.. now i long for company, but get uncomfortable when i get it. wait.. nvm im good now! just kidding but i'm so used to loving every aspect of life that it hurts now that i need to consentrate on being myself so much…
Go Man 5 months ago
i love silence!!
I wish to just sit in one place and explore myself for realy long time.
Long go, Su Shih had visited his master and asked about the teaching that says insentient nature preaches the dharma. Throughout that night, the mountains and rivers didn’t hold back their eighty-four thousand verses. When he heard for himself, it was like massive waves crashing high into the sky.
“How do we make ourselves into mountains, rivers, and the Earth?”
Downstairs someone has turned on the television and the screen is ablaze with burning gold. I curl up to the concrete bricks, radiator humming.
It’s not that I’m concerned with sin or salvation, but that the eternal Mysteries remain
Will I am
Will I get the job
Will I find love
Will I ever be good enough
Will I suit a fringe
Will I die
Will I see you again
A hundred years of stabbing at old paper; when will your heads poke through?
Even Wang Fanzhi was forced to write that “living beings are blockheads
Dwelling forever in lightless holes.”
The same activities, over and over again,
Distant philosophies cross the sky each year like homecoming geese.
“Although I am an atheist, I pray all the time.”
Sitting on the roof late at night
While brindle slugs
Glide up and down the drainpipes
(Tiny spotted bodies)
I hope to hear River Voices and Mountain Forms
Or to drift along
in the company of clouds.
(I wonder if these thoughts can be heard by other beings?
Stars, prophets, or maybe your sea-beast friends on the watery horizon?)
Dark chimney shapes
And velvet streets,
My own belly floating up and down,
Hands palm to palm.