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#2587 - Sunday, September 17, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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  • Gloria Lee
    #2587 - Sunday, September 17, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nondual Highlights Archive, Search Engine, and How to Contribute Your Writing:
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      #2587 - Sunday, September 17, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee
       
      The Nondual Highlights

      Archive, Search Engine, and How to Contribute Your Writing: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm
       
       
      This issue features poetry from the blog of naga moon rai. Many poems are accompanied by his own photography and when reading from the blog, a click on the photos will enlarge them.
       

      Spirit Feedings: poems by n.m.rai

      9.14.2006

      pen strokes



      no breath as in
      spider silk against skin
      drops of meaning
      dried by the moon

      no ground under the feet
      as if dream wavering
      into daylight

      still the silence
      thoughts trampled
      by work-boots

      old music in the air
      unheard
      like unwashed dishes

      like a wingless fly
      perched on a rose
      filled with pollen

       

       
       

      9.02.2006

      In a Morning Meadow



      I step to the songs of leaves
      the dances of snails
      the dreams of grass.

      Morning sun drops light poems
      through trees onto sleeping birds
      who sputter into wonder.

      My hands find night cathedrals
      spun by spiders now glistening and dew wet
      looped around raspberries and thorns.

      Joy runs up my legs and leaps to my skin.
      It devours me till I twirl with blind ants
      and fly out of the mouth of God.

       

      8.17.2006

      Poets



      It's a caterpillar dance
      a sky punctured by names forgotten,
      like the scent of extinct volcanos.

      Undigested images
      bounce like fireflies
      creating minuscule firestorms
      but each one is a universe
      of alternative views.

      A convoluted birdsong,
      slips by underneath our minds,
      And so we sit like shamans,
      tossing pigeon bones on campfires

      inscribing lines into the future.
      Poems that breathe
      from the innards
      of our own dreams.

       

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