tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59021032009-07-15T06:39:32.345-04:00Wandering down the buddhist path? Here are some bread crumbs on the path. Little snippits of the way. A Daily Buddhist Blog.Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1153137386006748942006-07-17T07:55:00.000-04:002007-02-17T17:16:30.860-05:00

Armies Of IsraelSlam, slash, bash-inCrush walls Targeted neighborhoods Are gutted looking for David Bombs, ships, jets slaughterYour homeYour brothers daughterIron bent, wrenchesWailsHezbullaIt's slings, stonesLegions of pin pricks Bleeding HaifaMissile through the roof A stolen boy GodsDemi-GodsIn the aged struggleNever settledIn all this time Lebanon: We've been here before They

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1141580624664125002006-03-05T12:43:00.000-05:002006-03-10T14:32:28.483-05:00

Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo Guantanamo

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1141487304175251882006-03-04T10:46:00.000-05:002006-08-06T15:55:36.106-04:00

Tim and his brother Pete and I Walk the streets of New York The two of them Buddhists And I wannabe maybe I took the road trip with Tim down from Rochester Thru-Way east and south Tim winding his way till we get to 8th street Petes one room apartment His Gohonzon, Nicherin Soshu object of respect, shrine The main focus in the room We bow And fall out the door Tim slides down the cast iron

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1138971812420922892006-02-03T08:02:00.000-05:002006-02-03T08:03:32.433-05:00

windshield sweepafter hoursof gutter drone

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1136755403929313932006-01-08T16:07:00.000-05:002006-01-26T15:26:21.496-05:00

In 1995 we were on a family summer vacation, on Stonington Deer Island off the coast of Maine. I rise before the rest of the family most days. I seek the quest time to ponder or wander or do meditation.It had rained all night but it was a bright sunny morning. I decided to climb the the hill across the street and look out at the ocean. It was one large chunk of rock and I scrambled up using hands

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132430977913582612005-11-19T15:09:00.000-05:002006-07-11T09:46:13.180-04:00

Listening to an mp3I hear my old friend laughinglong hairand ear-ringwhite teethand wide smilerainfalling in the mountains

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132411081747396732005-11-19T09:38:00.000-05:002005-11-19T16:07:14.676-05:00

Cold gray slab of cloudit could be graniteor glaciersliding frozen, down from Ontario.Thirty degreesand fallingeverything sinkinga compressing weight.Snow crust on the telephone linelooping low over the streetsagging and still.Novemberhas remembered the Genesee,turned,glanced over.

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1132362617714084792005-11-18T20:10:00.000-05:002005-11-18T20:10:17.720-05:00

The muddy ruts of the cornfield already cut, mashed and ploughed under, with occasional stalks amputated at the knee.An old wreck of a house (now a shack) with a sag-gut front porch and the roof about to collapse. All shades of grey in the patched tar-shingle walls falling into the crumbling morning.Rounding the bend, sun tumbles through fall leaves of

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1126724999728010222005-09-14T15:09:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:35:54.996-05:00

Wednesday afternoonHalf daybuilder nailing a roof outsidecool beerslides down the brown neck

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1126724173460249652005-09-14T14:47:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:40:25.806-05:00

sitting, following breathdroplet of sweat slidingbetween shoulder-bladesscrape and whine of the rotating fanjust about to return

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1125279217519042082005-08-28T21:26:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:38:57.983-05:00

tonight there is tonglenfor a womannear a ranchsomewhere in texas (little t)black presidential (little p) lemoflags quick-flapleading the tinted glassdeath in iraqsomehow less importantthan kicking up dustin her face

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124648164625114142005-08-21T14:13:00.000-04:002005-11-25T02:08:10.043-05:00

summer afternoonsundayold asian buddhacarved in woodon the windowshaddowthrown on ceiling amidwaveringleaves

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124417805956714882005-08-18T22:16:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:29:30.226-05:00

Abraxas black mother reclined and shining in flood of color Red-blue winged sky dancer dakini flitting across the cover Santana Santana Santana Santana Abraxas crystal breasted mother of 1970 ecstasy rhythm dance heat summer midnight smoke Abraxas pot mother mary jane sister lover of sweat filled holy night Were you really Troma whom I could not handle in my youth? Were you

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124417642477018382005-08-18T22:13:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:36:38.166-05:00

Epistle 1: To Hungry Poets raised, ruled, ridiculed, run off it has been beaten into us no emotion, no cry not on the street not in the house of our own fathers nor the ship nor enterprise or August 1999, He returned: from high snowy peaks above the sub-continent (o Milerepa in your cave in Labchi how did you survive eating how could

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1124243496464206092005-08-16T21:50:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:34:27.706-05:00

(Santa Cruz your mountains crumbling into the sea your green Pacific eyes of a blonde I met here once rode off on the back of a bike clutching the ribs of an Australian hurricane blow-out, up from Mexico wind rip-snapping my tent Brian to me: you should dig a trench around your tent it's gonna rain like a mama once Brian got up to cook breakfast

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1107552005972540962005-02-04T16:16:00.000-05:002005-11-25T00:33:33.136-05:00

Swerve of a car simple as rain little Nicole gone

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1105672497850582102005-01-13T22:09:00.000-05:002005-11-25T00:34:35.763-05:00

The morning dark is practice. The evening dark is practice. The midnight dark is practice. The four AM dark is practice. So much dark in the winter months of daily work. Ony practice in daylight on the weekends. So different from summer. Yet always there is: Om Ah Hung Vajra Guru Pema Tro Treng Tsal Vajra Samaya Dza Siddhi Pala Hung Ah

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1104330848404422702004-12-29T09:30:00.000-05:002005-11-24T22:41:13.680-05:00

This year I can not fly to the coast for the yearly retreat. Although I will go later in the year I still feel myself missing the trek. Not part of the local mandala. Snow drips from the eves weeds sticking up

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1102137320684501972004-12-04T01:12:00.000-05:002005-11-24T23:21:06.046-05:00

Having driven all day up-mountain to see the lama we sit and have tea looking out off the mountain down into Santa Cruz valley My Son sitting next to me, this is a smile to pass this on no time, only duration

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1102136198481337002004-12-03T23:53:00.000-05:002005-11-24T23:20:03.226-05:00

Been practicing Lakeborn vajra a lot this week. Before bed, 4 am, driving in the car, walking in the snowy wind. Snow wind blows through appearances drifts of mind cascade across the open field

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095898229679568832004-09-22T20:04:00.000-04:002005-11-24T23:27:42.566-05:00

CBS/NBC/ABC/PBS All terror all the time The terror of beheading or another sound another bite of Bush or Kerry Fox is just another black hole burnt charred bone burried brain in brine time maybe to call out with thigh bone trumpet here in this channel ground

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095865415084819132004-09-22T11:03:00.000-04:002004-09-22T11:03:35.083-04:00

PaperFrog.com: A Buddhist-inspired journalThe eye of the storm As I write — just before midnight Wednesday — the eyewall of Hurricane Ivan is about 40 miles due south of me near the mouth of Mobile Bay. We’re getting battered by hurricane force winds, but there’s still power and internet access here and there. Ivan has been impressive. Tropical storm winds arrived at sunset. They’ve steadily

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095863723559331282004-09-22T10:35:00.000-04:002004-09-22T10:35:23.560-04:00

Rigzin's Tibet Blog: "As we resumed our trip we began to see the beautiful variety of landscape and architecture that characterizes the Tibetan countryside. the valleys had become wider now and the road almost always followed a river. The mountains, worn with age, were rounded and covered in an emerald green velvet carpet. Summer wildflowers of yellow, red, blue and white shimmered on the lush

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1095861220069886102004-09-22T09:47:00.000-04:002004-09-22T09:56:01.963-04:00

Sitting on the sofa late Saturday night Stevie Winwood on PBS then all becomes pure sound moment then flicker moment into the stream of rainbow shimmer.... Driving up Five-Mile-Line road in the morning of going to work in the corporate world of designing in UML and codeing in C# the sun shining brightly in this early autumn I stop for the red light the rosey white HRI spinning in the golden

Davehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04838045974907818902noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5902103.post-1093920361328221532004-08-30T22:45:00.000-04:002005-11-25T00:39:52.120-05:00

Just drifting? Just waiting? Just praying? Always moving, always doing what is expected, always going through the motions... The incense brings a fog of clarity [ is that possible? Well it brings with the cloud a feeling ]... Ah, that is what one should be doing.... Accepting, adjusting, but yet atrophied over what you cannot seem to change... Everything seems destructive. BUT, keep Milarepa

Janetnoreply@blogger.com0