Poetry has a peculiar power. It can dip beneath street consciousness and conduct us to deeper realms. When we approach the mysterious depths of human consciousness, we often feel the need for poetry to express the experiences. At its best, poetry can be both an individual and a universal human experience. As Ira Progoff put it, if you go down deeply enough into your own well, you will hit the underground river common to us all.

Poetry is intrinsically connected to meaning. Poetry is the record of an explosion of inner experience, a momentary convergence of meaning in the mind that, if not recorded, vanishes back into the restless pool of consciousness. At a deeper level, poetry is Being turning to regard Its own qualities and processes.

The World Is Always Fresh

The world is always fresh,
newly minted,
arising from the depths of Being,
with the residue . . . → Read More: The World Is Always Fresh

The Garden Is Within Us

The Garden is within us,
full of luscious fruits,
and clear, cool water,
and moments of ecstasy.
. . . → Read More: The Garden Is Within Us

Rainbows All Around Us

Rainbows all around us.
Brilliancy sparkles here.
We are living inside a diamond
that reflects the colored light. . . . → Read More: Rainbows All Around Us

We Must Slow Down

We must slow down
and savor the moment
for Reality to appear,
not the forms that I see . . . → Read More: We Must Slow Down

The Presence Of Being

The Presence of Being
swirls around me now.
The Livingness of Being
suffuses my body,
. . . → Read More: The Presence Of Being

I Am Coming Together

I am coming together.
I feel it in my bones.
Something has released me,
and possessed me, . . . → Read More: I Am Coming Together

I See The World

I see the world
as I saw my mother
in the crucial, formative
first years of life. . . . → Read More: I See The World

I Try To See My Consciousness

I try to see my consciousness
but there seems to be nothing there.
Beneath the thoughts
that come and go, . . . → Read More: I Try To See My Consciousness

In This Moment

In this moment
I am held,
held in being,
held in life,
. . . → Read More: In This Moment

Time Is Spiriting My Life Away

Time is spiriting my life away.
I bow to its ceaseless march.
I knew when I came
that the name of the game
. . . → Read More: Time Is Spiriting My Life Away