(1)
We have all loved,
In different ways —
The same bleeding love.
We have all suffered,
In the same way —
The lethal blows of love.
We all have
Partially lived, partially died
In its glorious name.
(2)
Dropping the mask,
shedding the skin,
From our seat of rawness we must ask –
can we love each other
core to core,
Like day and night fusing at twilight?
(3)
The knife delightfully slits
an unsuspecting thumb,
In the tint of the trickle,
I see
the romance of deep red.
Even a mishap at the chopping board
can be oddly mesmerizing.
(4)
If I could find salvation
in my speaking,
blessed my word would be.
If the churning inside
could yield luscious cream
sacred my thought would be.
The poems I write
will then become Zen stories.
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