• the moon cave

  • The Moon Cave is clear and deep,
  • The environment most beautiful;
  • The one who dwells there
  • Makes a living upside down,
  • Refining the gold potion
  • In the jade furnace,
  • Cooking white snow sprouts
  • In the gold cauldron.
  • Operating the cosmic cycle,
  • Turning the handle of the big dipper,
  • Alternately passive and active,
  • Conveying the flow of energy,
  • Having passed through all barriers
  • He freely sails the silver river in peace.
  • anonymous chinese poem

  • :::next:::
  • days of miracle and wonder

  • The grass is full of codes.
  • The signs are everywhere:
  • used condom, apple core, a baby's sock.
  • You might suppose this is just rubbish
  • left by lovers, picknickers, and last night's yobs
  • but I know better:
  • Objects in your path are never
  • without some significance.
  • A trail of crumbs, a rusty lamp, a shiny bean-
  • you must be quick to recognize the hand of fate
  • and so I'm walking clockwise
  • round the common, seven times seven
  • before the dawn, deciphering:
  • hoping the crumbling In Bru tin,
  • the globe of shiny foil,
  • the punctuation of the smoked-down stubs
  • (each one uniquely marked)
  • will open up the world and its great mystery to me.
  • For if the mountains are proclaiming glory
  • but they can't be seen,
  • what is it that the scattered litter here is whispering?
  • isobel dixon

  • :::next:::
  • :::back:::
  • potu 25

  • The eightfold Yoga
  • the six regions of the body
  • the five states
  • they have all left and gone
  • totally erased
  • and in the open
  • Void
  • I am left
  • amazed.
  • There is but a red rounded Moon
  • A fountain of white milk
  • for delight.
  • The unobtainable Bliss
  • has engulfed me.
  • A precipice of light.
  • pattinattar

  • :::next:::
  • :::back:::
  • bohemiens en voyage

  • The prophetical tribe, that ardent eyed people,
  • Set out last night, carrying their children
  • On their backs, or yielding to those fierce appetites
  • The ever ready treasure of pendulous breasts.
  • The men travel on foot with their gleaming weapons
  • Alongside the wagons where their kin are huddled,
  • Surveying the heavens with eyes rendered heavy
  • By a mournful regret for vanished illusions.
  • The cricket from the depths of his sandy retreat
  • Watches them as they pass, and louder grows his song;
  • Cybele, who loves them, increases her verdure,
  • Makes the desert blossom, water spurt from the rock
  • Before these travelers for whom is opened wide
  • The familiar domain of the future's darkness.
  • Charles Baudelaire

  • :::back:::
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montage