Tuesday, August 31, 2010

In the Sacro Facio (Sacred Making) Room


Some dixieland clarinet,
some ode to piano joy,
some celestial monk choir oms,
some car horns -
These are the keys to my meditation,
as I sit with lotus hands
upon a futon.

The tone of God comes
like the wave of the sea,
I can traipse in and out
playing peek-a-boo endlessly
like a fearless boy,
always home.

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