Rhapsody of Art

An Ecstatic Vision

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Muse

Listen— in the noise of night

the moon rises at the well

of a dream.

Deep inside the folds

of an origami sleep

we know the staircases

never end

yet the moon is slipping into our bedroom

two-fold between the sheets

and we are passionately calling her name.

As she moves

like a mellow liquid against the walls

make love to her.

You will call her again

and you will meet her in the middle

slipping down the crescent dress

to the rhythm of sea and sand

the ovulating music

pull her into your thighs

and cross the ocean with her.

When we finally drink the waters

until they’re shallow

we return to a wall of night

standing at the door— cricket storming

the whole forest thirsty for your light.

Yet deep inside the folds of a paper dream

a door has opened

you step down out of the dark

you are free— you are awake.

Flower Character 001


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Ecstatic Poetry Retreat

Hosting the Second Annual Ecstatic Poetry Retreat at the Clear Creek Community Schoolhouse, in Disputanta, Kentucky!

October 14-16th

Photo Oct 11, 4 03 35 PM

 

Our weekend will begin on Friday evening and finish in late-afternoon on Sunday. Our hosts at Clear Creek will be offering tasty organic, vegetarian meals on Saturday and Sunday. Lodging is available (at additional cost) as well as camping on the quiet grounds of the property (for no additional cost). Enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of the historic Disputanta valley, an opportunity to clear the mind and offer yourself some space in the lush gardens and expansive views. Give yourself the chance to quiet the mind in this beautiful setting of heritage and nature.

 

View More: http://megansmith.pass.us/ecstatic-poetry-retreat

The weekend will also offer Yoga each day, offered by Instructor Leah Van Winkle, opening the body and settling the mind with ancient Asana medicine. We will also explore other techniques such as Buddhist meditation for easing the mind into its creative states and transpersonal workshop activities for tapping into the Essence of our creative potentials. Through mediums of Poetry, visual media, and discussion, we will express the spiritual, emotional and technical possibilities of our artistic Voice.

 

View More: http://megansmith.pass.us/ecstatic-poetry-retreat

For more information and registration, please visit: Ecstatic Poetry Retreat

You can also visit the “Events and Readings” page on this website for information and links to registration.

Location: Disputanta, in Central Kentucky

When: October 14th – 16th

Price: $150 (includes camping and meals) — Scholarships available — Lodging at additional cost

We hope you can join us for a weekend of inspiring an Ecstatic approach to Art for self-healing, spiritual interest and artistic wonder!

 

 

 

 

 

King and EMpire


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The King of Love

Sometimes a King can’t see
the way he is tearing down his empire.
He’s daring his adversaries out of the sunrise
he scorns his lovers
and sleeps with a knife under his cheek
wounds bleed on his white sheets
his heart breaks on the battlefield
a folly of misunderstanding
fells a horse as mighty as love.

I am that King.
Spreading an empire
across the globe of my desire
waging war
stamping coin
spreading loin, roasting
the food of poverty
feasts for my crowd
hunger for a nation.

Concubines of my false-believing
have loved me with plastic attention
I have spent my every morning
layering makeup for their attraction.
Am I the Fool?
Was my original commitment
to Truth, or
to the way the truth was packaged?
Is this any way to rule my heart?
Is this any way
to be led by faith?

Many Wives and many Mothers
collect my silly pieces of hope
you’ll find them in the ground-cover
you’ll find them rooted in the dirt
of culture
of community
you’ll find me weaving this basket
stripping this bark
turning this ground
sifting for seed
magnificence forest, inearth me
in those leaves
let loose your summer poise
bury this tired king
in the Land he once called property
in the Love he once called enemy.

Flower Character 001


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Jumping off Rooftops

 

When I discovered Love existed

it was as if I discovered gravity for the first time—

for fear of losing that realization

I thought I had to always be climbing

and falling

to keep it close to my life.

If ever in doubt, if ever afraid,

at least I had the bruised and broken

legs to prove I was not alone.

 

Eventually, one of those falls shook me so deep

I had to give it up— take a seat.

 

This kind of surrender

has shown me that this force, this gravity

is what holds my chair to the ground

sitting me down

with a place of rest.

 

Spirituality will meet you

right where you are—

if you are a carpenter

guarantee

your hammer will fall.

If you are a fisherman

rest assured

the river will run.

 

This experience we call Spirit, or Love

isn’t unrelated

to the piss and shit of our bodies

the fuck and stress of relationships

the daily touches of skin

and skids of blacktop

that constitutes

being Human.

 

Love is a great force

some would say The Greatest…

 

But, today, I’ve realized

I would rather stand next to you

and banter in the kitchen

about the proper moment the garlic

should be added to the stir-fry

And I would rather stay up too late

making hand-made paper

and then drive a dear friend to the airport

at three the next morning…

 

I would rather appreciate

just the way things Are

 

then spend another day

jumping off rooftops

to prove

Love exists.

 

Flower Character 001

 

 


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Broken Ear

 

As fear shakes me at the ankles
Love drags me from the shirt.
I argue with Love.
I try to convince it that I am
already perfect. Leave me alone.
It doesn’t say a word about it.
Love just comes into my house
pulling on the flesh of my heart
as she puts the knife in my hand.
The instrument of my body
cries out from the song in her touch.
The pen within my eyes
takes note of a truth.
Don’t seek my words— my lips
are still within you.
Don’t remember my face—
the memory inside the body
becomes a bed for our longing.
Lift my legs and play music with me.
Spread open your tongue
and fill my broken ear
with a vibration of your truth.

 

RP-T-1889-A-1993

Wild Baskets

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Go into the wild forests of your truth.
Let yourself be afraid.
Learning to stand with fear in your heart
is like learning to stand with a bear—
if you stand true
Nature will see who you Are.
This is courage.
We pour ourselves out into thought
and algorithms of cleverness—
climb down from the attic of the mind!
Live from the Earth.
Till, sow, and grow.
Love, work, and celebrate.
Simple truth never dies.
Our defensive worlds may divide our loving.
Unruly humanness may pull us apart.
But I will love you
with knives against my breast
I will dance– and you
will do to my heart
what the weaver has done
with her baskets.

 

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Cob Mosque

There must be a transformative nature.
Something that can give us courage
through the back-waters of Samskara— a lantern
through those nightlong searches for a dream.
We seek a place where we are individuals.
Where we are Islands.
Where we are Kings.
Then we build our castles out of the relationships around us…
But Soul cannot become clay.
Love is too curious and free
to become mortar in a wall.
A poet of the Heart
must understand his road
has many companions
and fills his wounds wherever Love
is offering medicine.
There are no shelters of this world
which offer comfort forever.
Just as soon as we find
what we are looking for– The roof
gets pulled from across our head. We depart
another house of healing.
We settle our debts
at another burlesque of truth.
We must keep moving.
And for those times, lonesome
on a trail below the stars—
We remember the households of our friends.

And when we are stranded
in the boondocks of unworthiness.
Enter the humble, cob mosque of your heart
and Pray— remembering
that your Path
has been your greatest Home.

Mandolin Symbol 001

 

 

 

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