J.K. Commandment #20: Believe in the holy contour of life.
"Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life." Everything true from the heart of the universe is organic in that it grows of its own divinity in accord with all other crossroads in the infinite web of everything. I am learning that i am a crossroad no more or less than the raindrop the planet the beetroot the kiss. This acknowledgment will allow the very stuff of the universe to course through my crossroad i will be the seed of light life force love wholeness healing i will be a spiritual being learning through the human experience i will have infinite space within me for kindness joy compassion equanimity i will leave behind the armor and discovered the living skin i will abandon all defenses and thereby become invulnerable i will understand myself to be a seed a cell a gorgeous and magickal consideration on the part of the cosmos worthy of love respect laughter liberty and see my fellow travelers rooted hooved four footed ten fingered flowing shining connected crossroads the same i will be part of something greater and eternal just by allowing myself to be me i will.

J.K. Commandment #19: Accept loss forever.
"To love is also good: for love is difficult." This is the core of it. That somehow i must let go and grieve not wish it were some other way. it is what and how and who it is and there is only death in regretting, death without rebirth. Grief is like springtime when the frozen earth dissolves to water to soften the seed coax it open encourage it enliven it and something green and miraculous springs forth to feed us. grief washes the barren soul the nile flooded was made a goddess grief softens the seed of something dying to be reborn. death leaves a seed for us to grow. souls i have thrown to barren ground friendships i have allowed to wither not water my life has been an untended garden and i have danced blind into wild briars and trampled tender greens under a raging foot i have danced devastation into my life and the lives of those around me throwing salt a wake of scorched earth ragged refugees from empty deaths the earth of my life paved over and circled with fear fire wire and now after all something grows. something awakens rises defies. pilgrim spirit guardian angel grow green up through empty death and bloom. sing spring song beauty serenity clarity hope. and when bloom is through there will be a seed to sow and the children of pilgrim spirit guardian angel will be as courageous blades of grass to feed the earth and make a space to breathe and grieve and grow a garden.

J.K. Commandment #18: Work from pithy middle eye out swimming in language sea.
"In April the ponds open like black blossoms, the moon swims in every one; there's fire everywhere: frogs shouting their desire, their satisfaction. What we know: that time chops at us all like an iron hoe." Warm april rain lilac opening forsythia opening contemplating a walk in the cool damp to see the stirring of roadside galaxy rain on my cheeks the smell rising from loam creekbed spruce tree a good bread with salt and seeds the animal pleasure of fruit of quiet breathing im making space for change winters sleep is a dust on the dresser i write our names spring fills the channel with snowmelt cloudwater kitchen candle tutelary spirit so much work to do i try and tell them but they have to learn on their own. this lesson is mine also. let go. a tree that does not release the last years leaves will not be blessed with new ones in the spring. let go. open the hand in a gesture of peace and generosity. turtle stones and roses by the sewing machine spending the day in the dim quiet knitting one stitch after another into the turn of the seasons, breathing.

J.K. Commandment #17: Write in recollection and amazement of yourself.
"All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well." Bright but spring cold a rabbit in the circle of spruce this morning eyes everywhere its a comfort this is a nadir i believe energy oscillates i believe in the crest of the wave the rest of the trough i seek to simplify in my own complicated way the stacks of books the dogs the seedlings crowding jostling tiny bubbles dancing stars the engine parts the children the houseplants reaching running chiming little bells of light that guide me i will not simplify. but i will breathe and walk and ride my bike i will dig and pull and watch and i will bless and be blessed by it all most certain. my spirits strength seems to grow in relation to the sun i watch the moon a clock of change blood tide the green grows overnight its getting stronger too i need the Earth as she need me to know my self to be a stronger cell a dancing star to give my light and strength to the work that is before us all: to love and know ourselves loved in return. That is the great simplicity from which all other wisdom springs.

J.K. Commandment #16: The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye.
"Know that no want exists for, no hand bereaving takes from, the acted resolution: to be. Silken thread, you have entered into the weaving." The wednesdays are difficult theres too much at the surface the swamp surges claw marks heightened awareness uneasy laughter exposure exhumation but this morning i went to where the air smells of horses and a genealogy of snakes lives under the well the apple trees need planting and my heart runs on four hooves in the paddock i could stop and think about that forever. i am not afraid of falling apart or losing touch or going insane i do not think those things will happen if i let the light in open the cellar door take a screwdriver to the rusty crevasse of my history i am afraid of not being in control of letting these feeling have their way with me the way theyve waited to be for thirty years a deluge a landslide here comes the flood implacable you can only wait for it to be over and see whats left. whats left will be important whats left will be true and clean. i just have to let it. breathe. let it. and it will be a birthday reunion marriage revelation. it will at last be beautiful to be.

J.K. Commandment #15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog.
"These big pages love to be quiet: So much silence has collaborated here." Sun on my skin the light returning to my eyes clean water and walking waggy tail blue bicycle horse manure springtime in class i leaped and froze and described the water cycle with my hands conjured steam heat frozen soldiers collaborated raspberry leaf tea and i get closer by getting closer to my self true self blue bicycle i saw you you were going slowly beautiful boat hanging in a broken barn by the side of the road half brakes and one gear but a basket and its blue rickety crickety down the road smiling because i can across the river and down the road the first calves clean and true like springtime together it lets me feel integral the deep weave i sleep in i regain slowly the feeling in my fingers the sweet queer sensation of having a heart and learning what its for. blue bicycle of my heart the hills the light the air is free no expectation obligation no estrangement fear just now down the road and the next day someone says i saw you and i always wonder who it is they see.

J.K. Commandment #14: Like Proust be an old teahead of time.
“There's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” Breathe. It surprises me when someone comes near, peeking into the house through windows knocking wondering who is about why would they? i ask myself, completely unconnected to the idea that i am worth knowing. because who they find is a house with the valuables locked away and the key is under a rock behind a painting in the garden between the rows the third drawer on the left in a velvet box nailed shut. the cookies and tea come out the wide eyes open hands but theres a ghost over my shoulder a rapping at the cellar door. let me turn the music up dance a little im a mother quail flailing stalling calling out no one here to know. but she says we and i say who? ive never been a we ive never. breathe. it comes together the threads the places and names the reasons why. i learn as i go sitting quietly trying to remember where i left it locked it away up out of reach trying to remember not to turn my head too quickly but shes out there on the weedy walk wondering where i am. it seems there cannot be a we without a me so i better get to remembering where it was i left me so long ago and i am not afraid because what i locked away is not bread or butter paper or thread i cannot be discovered with horror mouldering away like a body it is not body or blood or brain it is imperishable it sings quietly to itself in its dark place with infinite patience because it knows what i am only learning: that she and i are a we there is no one without the other and so long as i breathe she will wait and one day i hope i will remember and i will be we with him and her and the whole world i will be we and me completely.

J.K. Commandment #13: Remove literary grammatical and syntactical inhibition.
"since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world" crouching by the creek the world in leaf mould morning coat me crouching in pink bunny bathrobe to catch the light on the water shall we venture farther afield this glorious gift of today? there is an apple tree in a lonely place id like to see the sun lay down with the brown grass of april hear the fierce birds sing hymn of faithfulness (they mate for life you know) smell the water from the fen roiling under surface surging toward the river shall we dance? zulu daisy columbine parsley passion flower theres so much to begin today to do to be done with my life a run on sentence with fierce adjectives and daisy chains woven into ivy and wine cups under an apple tree in a field full of light with spring washed blue sky alien regal swamp flower heart shaped globular flashing wings the song of water the light on the water i am light on the water i am all of these and i breathe in the great gift of today awake in the wild of my lifetime.

J.K. Commandment #12: In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you.
"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship." Ragged roses parchment petals singed with dying. Still the pink pursed heart dense bud pages of a book written eternities lightning and vines beauty's sign sweet scent hidden thorn an angels dance floor of blood birth of a curse to sleep one day to kiss because what else is there to do? and sap rises bud bursts leaf is a tongue drinking in the light sunlight a prayer night holding new mysteries joyous arms upraised she wore a crown of thorns but shes a mother now. rose rosa rising ring of roses ashes to ashes from the cradle to the grave we give them away to say what we cannot say because roses came before words to name them roses came before us before sorrow and celebration when i gave her roses i said they were already dead so you cannot kill them someone stole the thorns from them they have no scent they are shadows of savage ancestors that creamed the air heady magick something grappling in the underbrush raked with thorns and teeth and fingers and thats how it all began years ago today was the last day of you inside me and after it was over my mother brought me roses.

J.K. Commandment #11: Visionary tics shivering in the chest.
"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." Berber carpeting and scissors catching up with whats what at my ease the ivy tendril and the wall rain rain good rain we have a choice rain brings flowers down the road awhile i see the sap is running this is my friend we share theres an understanding there thats beyond precious to me this understanding ive prayed for my entire everything. words fail me. here its written on the wall it may be clearer than i could say gypsy music arrives from nowhere and my blood dances i brought roses for you and you and you and theres some for someone i havent met and there might be one left for me. its been forever since music came through my skin and filled my head and i crashed into intimate strangers and broke the bones of my captivity sweat out the burden of flesh spun a sparkling cone of light and sent it out to heal the human family i am dancing i cannot hurt you i am dancing i cannot make war i am dancing i cannot lie steal i can only share this beautiful light the ocean flying from my fingertips put your hand here and you can hear the blessed heart of creation singing. for now im down here on the floor covered in clear ribbons of time asking you how it is for you to be alive.

J.K. Commandment #10: No time for poetry but exactly what is.
"At the spring we hear the great seas traveling underground, giving themselves up with tongues of water that sing the earth open." Phoenix season. Bohdi bud blossom fruit ferment dreaming Buddha. Walkabout westward left at freedom a good smelling fen two geese prehistoric skunk cabbage water in my socks sunlight what people hide behind their houses, the rush that makes a river a bridge and up the hill to the faerie kingdom eddies of magick ice still shining in the shadows feeling alive shining thinking about how demon lover smells the vulnerability and crashes out from hiding seething roaring no. wave the white flag of your Buddha nature walk out into the freedom not making excuses not haughty not incredulous. Beautiful and true your dog and you springs surge of life in the form of water, green growing up through the thin ice on the fen the constancy of geese the blessedness of sun on your skin just being alive is enough just walking down the road waving at strangers just hearing the water sing down the hill light on the water the smell of water this phoenix season when everything remembers the fire within and above and that filament burns with sap and sweat and sweet water everywhere. Praise for the Life force praise for the breathing seeing walking whispering All a blessed mesh connecting us to Everything. Come out from the thorn row, demon lover. Come out and feel the sun on your beautiful face. Let it melt the sharp edges of ice in the shadow of your heart. Be here with me no need to rage or blame just melt back into me and be known be loved be not afraid.

J.K. Commandment #9: The unspeakable visions of the individual.
"The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness." Three Word Wednesday: Parallel, Bounce, Mysterious. You walk in and its okay again. Theres the imperceptible loosening, but the bile threatens to seep out through the eyes, make it hard to see the holes, the snares, the true beauty. You sit and laugh through the anger which is the fruit of fear the mother quail flapping in the scrub, look how tender i am! theres nothing over there you need to know! the moon the gentle bounce of light from a greater star you were at an impasse, a limbo, a threshold, a crowning interminable blinding leap of faith across the chasm the wall of your original demon lover mysterious design the tapestry red thread keep the chill away your secret soul secret even to yourself it watches from a parallel universe, on the edge of its seat does it dread or desire? are you welcome? will you come in? so once in a while you sit there and laugh at absurdity and acknowledgement. birth pains and seedlings and did you actually use the term inner child? i suppose im supposed to turn around now, and look it in the eyes.

J.K. Commandment #8: Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind.
"The real marks of wildness are a love of nature, a delight in silence, a
voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown." Glorious connection, the small street i dreamed of, smiling at everyone, the marveled stream full of rainbows and men in the wave and wake of rain the smell of rain coming up from the quiet grass something loosens inside all of us sap stirring in pools at the bottom of our hearts. Its been so long since i walked my dog down to the chestnut tree and heard the music of hill water dancing down to the marveled stream to the rainbow men to the painted lake to the stony river to the wild ocean at the end of dreaming. I walk west toward the sun and east into the rain a yellow stone a stag of four tines alive striding electric my dog reveling watery peaceful rushing homeward reborn stripped down kissed grateful blessed.