thankless nights

nothing moved

everyone asleep
where they stand
for 100 years

just waiting
for the prince,

of peace
to kiss.


gentleness,

oh gentleness,
dear loves,

is the way,

the narrow opening
to freedom
laughter

trans
ascension

the salad dressing
sits exactly where it is,
every speck on this counter,
"plate", fork, knife, salad, "me"
nothing separate,
no different

one
concept,
"i"

salad dressing my mirror of what "i" is,
of a concept
mind imagines,
a separate
thing,

a "need" not being met,
a thought
God is not

All
there is

the mirror turned away from me,
blind,
i see only the painted side,

"i" is the painting over
of God,
Clarity,
Under standing

salad,
a brush mark,
that can say
body
is life

the clock hasn't moved

time stands still
in the bottle,
in the concept,
of lack

lackadaisical reality

missing a heartbeat

a possibility
of the absence of joy

doubt

see now
how tall and strong
that dressing bottle stands

ever ready
never complaining
ever giving
ever of service
now!


have you noticed?!

all complaints
never come from the dressing bottle!

nothing
outside you ever 
says
a word


only you
interpret interpret interpret....

just like
the morning robin...

i sing and i sing and i sing
"my" song

have you ever
got down on your knees
to thank
the spices
in your cupboard?



here
is exactly
where any spice
in "your" life
is missing

rap on,
salad dressing,
rap on!