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Revealed in a tree

just bared of leaves:

a construction of beings

out of what is, 

a home. 


Life almost spent, 

still hanging on though, 


these your last grasps. 

You have been so selfish, 

just like me, loving

mightily in confusion. 

No, not a hair’s breadth 

of difference between us, 

except you could cook better. 

When you lay down for good, 

I’ll keep trying life a little longer, 

one step and a stumble, 

loving the heart of you 

in my arms, your daughter,

every red beat 

a striving 

graced just as it is,

every red beat

holding you still

in purest rest. 

Boundary Object 

A boundary object 

is an object

or other representation 

that can be shared

between different people 

and communities, 

with each

holding its own understanding 

of that object. 

To realize

everything come upon 

as in its way

a boundary object – 

including you – 

is to realize

the emptiness 

of all things, 

is to realize liberation. 

And this liberation


right in the midst of

and as

the limit of each perspective

and as the flux of perspectives


Right here, in and as

the flux of perspectives, 


in and as the flux 

of boundary objects

interacting with one another

in countless ways

and from myriad standpoints,  

the true subject – 

you – 

is disclosed

and authenticated. 

Look, your true nature 

is to have 

no fixed, isolated

essential nature at all. 

Just so

can you freely create

what comes  

out of what comes. 

Seeing Through Self 

When fixed and isolated self

realizes that its own movement – 

self-referential thought – 

produces division, fear

and contradiction, 

when this self is so stuck

and untenable 

that its movement


just so  

is self undone. 

Once Hurt 

Once you are hurt, 

you become a hard self,

a self (by definition)   

trying to become 

another self,

and so

a self not yet itself, 

a self infused with


Seeing through hurt, 

through lack, 

seeing through 

self divided against itself 

(and against others), 

you return to 

who you originally are,

indivisible, nothing 


Falling Leaves 

Green leaves brighten

red and orange

and then dull to brown, 

falling from branches

and, in swirls of wind, 

rustling together

along the ground, 

scraping concrete paths,

and getting caught fast

in the cracks of walls. 

And after a time

they disintegrate – 

returned to the great presence

of earth, waters, sun, and sky. 

So, too, your green thoughts. 

As Is 

Breathing one breath, 

what good is it 

to hold onto the last

or to seek the next? 

Unborn Undying 

The ocean of this

is not made of separate things, 

but of shifting patterns

of flow.

Nothing fixed and separate, 

what could arise or pass away?

A Stillness Of Leaves 

The leaves wind-swirling 

cannot be counted. 

Because they can’t be, 

because they are empty 

in their fluxing patterning, 

we may call them 

a stillness of leaves. 

Complete Incompletion 

Every instance of incompletion

functions completely.  

Just so 

are you whole as you practice, 

learn, clarify, and grow.