life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

becoming the morning

Early morning dark and quiet,

so still you can hear God,

then the sun rises like slow jazz,

vibrating through thin clouds,

they look like strings of cotton candy

stretching sideways,

you listen to the morning birds,

the thought of coffee makes you smile,

but the jazz is so smooth and relaxing,

you slip back into a drowsy dream.

〰️

J. D. James

you’re embarrassed by your own om

you say—planning your funeral

considering deep drones

only a limited number of patterns

exist for such a song

played in one breath

a prayer for a pregnant woman’s easy delivery

a tender preamble for a new instrument

a piece played for expressing gratitude

a state of mind resembling moonlight

a lighter one for festive occasions

a piece for overcoming difficulties that could have been handled better

a piece representing manifestations of self-discipline

an offering at a service for the dead

a piece expressing longing for home

if there are indeed

“still songs to sing beyond mankind”

we’ll need those

now

〰️

shakuhachi repertoire, handwritten from liner notes by Jen Bervin

I will have become

like the madman

running

to see the moon

in the window,

the hawk

I saw tracing

the cliff edge

above the river.

I will be the man

I have pursued

all along

and finally caught.

I will be

all my intuitions

and all my desires

and then I will walk

slowly

down the steps

as if dressed in white

and wade into the water

for a second baptism.

I will be like

someone who cannot

hide their love

but my joy will become

ordinary

and everyday

and like a lover

I will find out

exactly what it is like

to be the happiest,

the only one in creation

to really

understand

how much,

I’m just a hair’s breadth

from dying.

Excerpted From

MORTALITY MY MISTRESS.

in RIVER FLOW:

New and Selected Poems © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

Before I take communion

I confess my

ancestral malady,

weakness of the will.

I long for a comforter

to strengthen me with

the grace of heaven.

Therefor in the evening,

I listen to the thrush.

In the morning,

raindrops on ferns.

〰️

Fred LaMotte

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