The Buddha practised Fine-tuning the fingers of enlightenment I play with ham hands On the bones of self
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
Ah, you did write a poem. Words written down to the bone... I like.
I read last night (or was the night before and does it matter?) a very pretty small book of poetry marrying visuals and words - The Breathing Field. Meditations on Yoga. Perhaps you'd like to read it Larry? I'll send it your way if you wish. In the meantime, some excerpts...
"Follow the wind that feeds the fire/that follows the spine that spreads beyond/what was formerly you, the low back smearing into sunset as stars slip into place/"
My favourite is the start of the book - pre-meditation:
"Here, inside the chest a tiny fear is folded neatly like a sweater"
We all have those tiny fears folded like sweaters inside of us...
1 comment:
Ah, you did write a poem. Words written down to the bone... I like.
I read last night (or was the night before and does it matter?) a very pretty small book of poetry marrying visuals and words - The Breathing Field. Meditations on Yoga. Perhaps you'd like to read it Larry? I'll send it your way if you wish. In the meantime, some excerpts...
"Follow the wind that feeds the fire/that follows the spine that spreads beyond/what was formerly you, the low back smearing into sunset as stars slip into place/"
My favourite is the start of the book - pre-meditation:
"Here, inside the chest
a tiny fear is folded
neatly like a sweater"
We all have those tiny fears folded like sweaters inside of us...
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