eyeballs give life

In this very breath that we take now lies the secret that all great teachers try to tell us, what one lama refers to as "the precision and openness and intelligence of the present*." The purpose of meditation practice is not enlightenment; it is to pay attention even at unextraordinary times, to be of the present, nothing-but-the-present, to bear this mindfulness of now into each event of ordinary life. To be anywhere else is to "paint eyeballs on chaos**."
- Peter Matthiessen
* Chogyam Trungpa; ** Dogen Zenji

Alien space craft landing in the eye of the solar flower. The Passion flower (Passiflora) so named for the baroque and grotesque display only alluring to the strange. Thank you Walmart!


The center piece of focus textured like layers of sunlight spill through space to be mocked by the tiny face of a flower.


The farther away the clearer the spaces between become and the collective combination reveals the calculated shape placed perfectly in the middle of the invisible.


As motion implied in the flight of imagination as the segmented sunbeam travels from one side to the other without ever leaving its chair.


Right where the glare of the orb of fire hidden behind gray cloud glows in reflection, the resurrection of the face that sees through all disguises and speaks silent but clear sound.
---
eyeballs give life

sharp edged
as blade of steel finely honed
is balanced upon by the breath
perfect precision
without attention

this craft
though plied through murky waters
in the depth of a gray cloud existence
interminable - jumbled
like paths through dense with opinions
and darkness corridors of time
adventure wasted
when the spiral inevitably returns
the feet to here

broken out of chair hold
finger holds pencil
like a brush to stroke away ego
and leave the fine dust sprinkles
to settle to the floor

hurricane confusion glides across
the slate like a lesson learned
and the merry prankster
paints eyeballs on the chaos