Hoping, Helping, Reaching

carefully revealing, only self at only the one only spot.
whistled fumbles, tendencies toward melodies that grab and jar:
chaos and dimness brightly creating more than order and well-lit motion-making.
son of the only daughter or star of the dampest dust, gushing earth stuff,
whimpering down a lilting canon of a night-
we lay our hands on all that we lay our hands on
as we cup the formless invisible nectar of self-possession
glancing wearily toward the oncoming lights. being bold with knowledge
is far too much. knowledge, long out of date, is a cowardly remark
on the daunting task represented by really existing. being bold with
coldness or righteousness, growing soft in theaters and ‘round new graves,
meeting expectations, growing up just fine in the house of the father. hoping,

helping, reaching: simply needing to go through, to pass over,
waiting for that weightless waste welling up in the soul full of water
spilling. the trees have waited too- this long -to finally hug each one of us. but
who among us has noticed well enough the simple science divulged by
the great koans of the innumerable trees? what we are reaching for is still
only our hope. through the space between the stare of man at centuries
and the stare of centuries back at man, something happened right at the start.
a hope for hope was born into a soul
that couldn’t dream of being of itself and for itself. so sweaty and pink.
and then so long for so little. fiction and reason. finality and control.
devices,
limits, copies.
hoping, helping, reaching for a light sometimes seen spilling out from between creases
where these three dimensions meet each other.
war and bulletins, memorandums and tearful telephonings, concerts and murders.
we’ve become what we’ve always seen staring back at us.
deep matter dissolving at the touch of a pulse’s thickness. energy rings. hoping
to help and reach. touching and growing, falling backwards and clawing up,
freezing and rupturing with deepest warmth. hoping, helping, reaching inside you, friend,
for something we can use against our final darkness. it has always been there where it has always been.
I have always been here where I have always been.
here we are as we have always been. and what will we become?

one? the many? blackness? redness? greenness? war-opened? forgotten?
soil fibers? gods of our own design? the pure diamond of emptiness?
above? inside? throughout? lifted? I can’t sleep when I think about it.