Roasted sunflowers - draft 2 Post-revision In this Japanese Chinese American skin color of roasted sunflowers after a long laze in the sun I breathe on behalf of those not here – My grandfather, whose very
basket of water I set down the burden of grief at my feet It becomes the cushion on which I rest Touching the earth with head bowed I am capable of carrying this
Sit.Walk.Listen: Bringing "collective awakening" to the streets of San Francisco This past Sunday June 14, I sat crosslegged in front of San Francisco’s City Hall, letting the words of the poet Langston Hughes flow over me, a vast and
Roasted sunflowers - draft 1 Dear one In the midst of this suffering I give you permission to feel joy Joy for no purpose other than Sinking into the crisp wind ruffling your Exposed hands,
On race, privilege, and inclusivity in practice space Dear Thay, dear sangha, I feel moved by a Native friend’s email thread and by the recent police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis to look deeply into inclusivity
I wanted to complain and go home Arriving at this little white house Through the forest, past the river I’ve come for four days of quiet retreat Knowing I’ll cook for myself I wanted to
For you, John I open up slowly, like a flower unfurling her petals Letting go of the fear of being seen, relaxing into the Sweet cascade of your fingers skimming over each Region
For you, J I open up slowly, like a flower unfurling her petals letting go of the fear of being seen, relaxing into the sweet cascade of your fingers skimming over each region
fertile ground Pregnant with poetry I stand on this fertile ground waiting, breathing down into my abdomen my breath nourishing that which is growing within me The budding rose grows solid in
The eve of 30 Tomorrow is your 30th birthday. You will celebrate at home, surrounded by the love of your brothers, mom, and dad, in a time of blooming water lilies, red maple saplings,
Melanie's birthday retreat changing like all things To my dearest friends, Each of whom I have invited to Delight in the towering trees Of a mariposa spring Our time together is canceled for
practice critical thinking What does the practice look like if critical thinking is built into the beginning of every dharma talk before the refuges, before the four noble truths What if nothing is
fuck the practice Today, throw a tantrum, rage at every Fucking thing you hate Let the axe fall hard into the ground, Fuck you fuck this fuck everything Allow yourself to feel everything.
critical thinking [raw] What does the practice look like if critical thinking is built into the beginning of every dharma talk? Is inserted before the four noble truths as the first and most
Severing roots Accessing the power in my body swinging the axe, letting the weight of the blade sing in my hands, I am but the metal's vessel The axe slices
Axe My body sings with power heat, sex, lustful for destruction, taking The axe arcs through the air, from the ground, past my left shoulder, singhing the air with the force
fireglow Little fireglow bathed in the rainbow light of the sun Welcome to your new home May you be happy and safe here able to plant your roots down firmly and
if you were to ask again... thoughts on wednesday's resiliency training thank you very much for your question, johanna for including your own mind and body experience in the possibility of human experience I
Can I share this? the poet is to write without fear to release her words into the wild knowing they are not just hers I do not wish to hoard my truth I want
pointing at the moon Fuck the moon Fuck pointing at the moon I’m tired of looking at things outside myself pretending That they are a way out No, the way out is to
belief hey, I am happy to connect but I don't know if there is a bone in my body that can commit to anything outside of showing up I
Poet I am a poet The horoscopes already read this fortune but I protested in my unconscious No, give me something more prestigious, more colorful more of service No, god roared
If you were to speak of me again... I have a client, so broken by her own hatred that she emerges glowing in the summer light mind on fire lit by rage Everything she loves is broken. Ambition,
acts of love From Melanie to Joann: today was an act of love, my dear feeling caught in my own dark well of sorrow, angry, processing I carried myself to this little zoom
fuck you, demons I am terrified of you, J Terrified that in your company I will be so fucking bored Fall asleep during your stories Have no delight, no joy, no play I
