Source/El Origen

Manikhorlo – Tibetan water-spun prayer wheels

Here’s a freestyle poem I wrote in China seven years ago after spending a couple months living with a family in a Tibetan village. Then, while spending another couple months in Colombia a year later, I translated the poem into Spanish. I’m going to repost it today for Paul’s prompt at the Pub asking us about our libations of choice. Come join in! My choice of drink is that which comes directly from the skies.

Source

Word to the people of the world
It’s in the water, as a loving Father
Or a bodhisattva comes to us
From the skies, formed of his designs,
By gravity of grace, here to remind
Unblind, and hydrate all that has dried
Into a reality we face: Read More

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Brocade

Photography by Armelle Touzeau


Broken brocade;

Where do I put this sequin when the sequence

Falls like notes from the cellar door?

On my knees searching on the dirty waxed floor

Hands graze gypsy mambo scuff-marks

And dirty martini olive-swords.

Candles glow in distant red bulbs,

My search waxes dim.

How does poetry save the world like God? Read More

The Village

Photography by Waseem Niaz

I walk a path, rainclouds retreat to the east. I come to a village tucked in a basin, earthen and stone dwellings line the path, but the sunlight illuminates people outside them, on their knees with hands cupped, raised up. Beggars, desiring nothing more than bread or coin? Read More

August Rainbows

Creede Rainbow

Photo by Amaya Engleking

Just out of the shower, baby in bed, husband putting toddler to sleep; I look down the hall to see the front room awash in that lemon-zest glow that is common of the dawn, but a prized gift for bedtime.  Still seeing a light rain to the west where the sun is ready to slip behind the mountains, without hesitating I grab the camera and bolt out the kitchen door, sure there will be a heaven-sent rainbow in this reminding light. Read More

Orogeny

joan-fontcuberta-orogenesis-derain-2004

Photo: Joan Fontcuberta

The mind fragile; he crosses an ocean and all disintegrates into order.

Into her arms he goes; rip, decision, spill. Freeing the border.

The old line awakens into dance, A New One! The rhythm spins.

The beat of every blue shade.  Simple: A new wor(l)d begins. Read More