Yoga - nondoing
Here, now. No past. But, listen,
Yoga-nand, the birds!
Be here now, Ram Dass.
Hah! If you were Danna would have
You fly like a crow.
Hafiz, you preached joy
Through letting go of the past.
What, no more dead horses?
Sunbeam Hotel. Check in, gang,
The yoga is hot.
How did breath come to
What wind blew it in?
Hope and love.
We must go slowly
Time is short. Yes! Sunbeam,
Crawl across my mat.
This haiku is all wrong.
But wait! Count the breaths: In, out,
_ _ _ _ _
Hafiz, your raw poems!
Blood, sweat, tears tell not enough.
But what a cliché!
A poem for Hafiz:
Summer sun --- Ah, forget it.
Let’s get drunk on love.
500 years ago Basho already knew what
Jim’s favorite pose would be:
“How cool it is
Putting the feet on the wall
An afternoon nap.”
A response to the Fire Hydrant Pose
from Richard Wright (Haiku: This Other World)
“With a twitching nose
A dog reads a telegram
On a wet tree trunk.”
Om Shanti, peace, peace
May there be peace now and to
the next Gentle Stretch
300 years ago Kogu ro Chiyo echoed Amy when she noticed:
“A morning glory
Has taken the well-bucket
I’ll borrow water”
King David sang praises
Higher, he thought, than the frogs.
But Hafiz, your praises!
Open heart surgery
This our first pose of the evening
Our surgeon, Daniel.
Cats do it, and dogs
Crows, pigeons, mountains, heros.
Yes! All love poses.
Hafiz, you said “I”
Turned to “we” when waking
You tickled God’s feet.
Pay attention, Hafiz.
That tickling could kill illusion.
What’s left? God’s real love.
A response to Hafiz concerning
his recent report of seeing angels
dance on the tip of my ear:
Thanks.
Kikaku said 300 years ago:
“The harvest moon:
Lo, on the tatami mats
The shape of a pine”
Today I could have said:
The morning sunbeam:
Lo, on my mat, it’s my good friend.
Please, no spider squish.
We can come to God
Dressed for dancing
or
Be carried on a stretcher
to God’s ward.
-Hafiz
While waiting for the
Nightingale weeping
and ceaseless ocean
moaning . . .
Soon, oh soon, the dawn
-Shirao
The sickly orchid
that I tended so . . .
At last
Thanks me with a bud
-Taigi
Thank you, Radiant Orchid doctor.
An inspiration from Hafiz
after my two weeks at Radiant Health:
Just sit there right now.
Don’t do a thing.
Just rest.
For your separation from God
is the hardest work in this world.
Let me bring you trays of food
And something
That you like to drink.
You can use my soft words
As a cushion
For your
Head.
-Hafiz
Hafiz, You said most everyone
is lousy at math.
That we spend time dissecting
The Invisible One.
We think:
This is the Beloved One,
He looks like this and acts like that,
How could that moron over there be God.
(So is this what you meant when you said
Zero is more fun than a God of numbers?
Or is my act of thinking really
just trying to dissect you?)
Sanskrit is confusing.
If English was good enough for
Hafiz,
Why not in yoga?
Meditation
In movement. DVD in play.
Pause . . .
Nature calls.
Pranayama.
Gentle Series.
See how remarkable
the ribbon!
Now untie it.
Hafiz,
even the last lines
of your poems
make a poem itself.
“We all stand in line
for the highest Gift.”
“As I dance with
Precious life today,”
When no one is looking
and I want to kiss God
I just lift my own hand to my
mouth. –Hafiz
Hafiz,
Is that pose in the Gentle Stretch
or the Workout?
Radiant Yoga?
Yes, even the spider knows
Grace, love, compassion.
Yoga is not love.
Love is the spider, freely
Crawling from the hand.
Dervish dancing, Hafiz?
I can barely make yoga.
“Hah!” Whose fault is that?”
Hayko said centuries ago:
The caged eagle
When lonely
He flaps his wings
Not the Gentle Stretch
with Davna. Here eagles fly.
Even elders soar.
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