Appearing in a mirage, I wandered the Arizona desert for forty years, always alone, always lost. The heat takes its toll on verbs, not adjectives. There are not two ways to approach dehydration; only one, the one with symbols. Petroglyphs in rock show the way to live without presumptuous glory.
Then, tired of the blistering sands, turning to my later years I longed for the sea. The green currents called. So leaving the Gila mirage-maker behind wound my way to Massachusetts, to watch the sea examine what it created, and to die.
More than just a man, Stan is a poet, a teacher, a philosopher, and a friend close to my heart. He has taught me so much, and he has inspired me, and many others to never stop learning, to never stop trying to reach for the stars. Always write, and always live.
The Wine Of Samadhi
This is true:
In a state of meditation
(Straight)
I left both mind and body behind
And in a trance melded with the flow of the universe,
Surrounding my partially enlightened consciousness.
Unlike wine that can make a man a clown,
As Shakespeare was perfect at describing,
I became a vessel of perfect love,
Thrilled as the time I experienced ESP,
So frightening I had to cut it off immediately like a limb,
So amazed at its truth I can never doubt it;
Two strangers in a room full of people, merging
For only a few seconds,
Wood, metal and water,
The earth turning beneath my clambering feet,
The world talking the language of solid feeling,
But with another intervening.
The Samadhi was momentary too,
Equally astounding.
I was alone
Yet I was with everybody.
Every joke, every crazy love, every plight of wondrous energy.
Then it left me like a brief breeze
In the loneliest desert.
I changed of course but remained the same at the core:
Tortured by karma but saved by the Samadhi.
Read some of your poems stan. Insightful and deep. I know the draw and openness of the sea. Any particular ones you can recommend I read will be appreciated. Captain Cur