Onward

the breeze is love
the collard greens are love
the wooden stool is love
the pen and paper are love
the waving, shouting teenagers ...
are love!

the cat's meowing is love
the potatoes' growing is love
the compass' pointing is love
the sheep's wool is love
the maple's seeds ...
are still love!

abstract art, figs, Dad's portrait,
coffee cups, Dr Who, the platonic solids,
limericks,
empty locker rooms,
dirt under nails,
the potential soup of the quantum field ...
are all love

how else do you find a way
to go on?
life is suffering: ignorance most of all
the dishes have to be done,
the myriad beings ransomed

gravity is love -- know how you are understood
and find a way to put one foot heedfully
ahead of the other

— joystjohn

Comments

  1. All that love. You'd think it would somehow assuage. I particularly like the motley collection of the third verse. I so want to fall into this. I hesitate. HELP! (Macoff)

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  2. This is wonderful! And true. "the potential soup of the quantam field..." Yes.

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  3. I am mesmerized by your writing - so many different forms or poetry and always something profound. Thank you for sharing it here; I would love to read more.

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  4. "the collard greens are love" So true. Lovely rhythm.

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