sleeping Buddha's idol
in the Surgery room
Seeing patient in peace
His stoic, weathered façade
Subdues an ancestral angst
Silences the unwept tears
Of duty’s diligent dissent
Soft lights mock his withered soul
Highlight the emptiness of now
Echoing forever’s endless “OOOOM’
As darkness swallows all
The thorn means no harm
For it is but a Rose’s champion
Sworn to solemn solitude
In service to his queen
The flowers open wide
Their scented sensuality
Pandering to the buzz
Of pollinations gigolos
A forlorn star
Sits on a passing cloud
The knowing do not know the unknown
If they did
They would know
What they don’t know
Father : Further
— by Poet Kim Jang-hyun (J)
Within the fallen memories that you keep,
Your nostalgia was a bird bound for the deep.
That lonely wanderer of a mystic bar,
Was, perhaps, a drifting and a silent star.
Your beauty, standing in Maya all alone,
Was a yearning presence you have always known.
At the edge of exile, where your tears are shed,
You were the seed of pain from which we bled.
Upon a strange civilization's unknown bower,
You were a fleeting, passing pasqueflower.
Immutable, though all the worlds may shift,
Your gentle smile was a fading, distant gift.
That endless world where Maitreya shall reign,
Was the secret truth that you alone sustain.
Beyond the mountain, here within our view,
That flower, surely, was a part of you.
MOURNING MIST-:-
sighs
sparks
ascend
gripping
griefs
of EVANESCENCE FADES
mushroom
tainted
death
impermanence
glides
an ÉLAN VITAL
transitory
Buddha’s
ephemerality
achieves
nirvana
The nature of reality is clear and luminous
But we miss it because of obscurations
Like a cloud filled sky
Or flawless diamond covered in mud.
We miss it to the point of complete unawareness,
Which means we don’t know who we are,
How we got into our current predicament
Or how to get out.
Getting out is as simple as stepping out
Just letting go at last and popping out,
But it takes a lot of perseverance
To get to that point, so many never do.
And so the journey begins
A journey of discovering just how ignorant we are
And just exactly what we have been ignoring
So assiduously in our foolish bliss.
Breaking through is essential
And the natural result of earnest inquiry
But it takes effort, one-pointedly determined
To arrive at the effortless ineffable moment.
And when we do…
The sky opens to reveal its natural radiance,
Unsullied by clouds, none other than,
This radiance condensed into its own veil.
(5/1/26)
butterfly buddha
the lotus flower revered ~
she wears external
“as both this form and boundless space
cravings of ego negated
awake, vibrant yet nonchalant
bliss drenched heart remains elated”
—Unseeking Seeker
Feast and revel in ordo amoris,
the seether within stirs its godless bonds,
If not, what sings in harmony we’ll miss
thick or thin without sympathy desponds
We paint careful brush strokes without callus
slothful paint by number’s dupe self-spirals,
and not to fool one as the tenebrous,
whilst stratagem caliginous virals
We pen lucid images from the soul
without subterfuge there’s true belonging,
Clean and composed dignity merits gold,
gone—deep-seated universal longing
Emptiness stripped by turpentines amiss,
in fullness it streams harps euphoric gliss
leaden clouds disperse
by grace and awe enlightened~
bathed in golden bliss
(“The Longest Journey”, 2020, original encaustic)
Each of us a composite
Layered layers
Around a core
Elusive, beyond name
Pure, yet deceptively plain.
Around this core of Holy Spirit Buddha Nature
The mortal coil of flesh and psychic ethers
Veils our nature in all its aches and pains,
Fears, anxieties and confusions
Simply Being Human.
Pure and tainted bound together
A marriage of opposites
Cursed and blessed by turn
But joined none the less
In an inexplicable union of empty-appearance.
Just as we clothe our naked bodies
Our empty nature lies hidden from view.
We see and appreciate
The layers that buffer and protect,
But ultimately miss what lies beneath.
(3/18/26)
Passing the joint like a question,
No hurrying in the asking.
The Buddha giggles with no sound.
A coil of cloud curls on his lip.
Embers fall, like minutes
No one is really counting.
The joint is getting shorter and shorter,
Preaching impermanence like scripture.
Breathe.
Let the world unfasten.
Breathe again.
Even desire arches.
He tells me, nothing.
That is everything.
His silence thick like resin,
Rolls from our lungs.
The smoke ascends, not looking for anything.
It drifts.
It just is.
This is the ending without an end.
The flame goes out.
Enlightenment remains.
Mahakasyapa is famous for answering
Buddha’s silent sermon of an upheld flower
With a simple smile.
And in this flower-smile exchange
The transmission of the recognition
Of suchness was complete.
Such suchness is no different today
A flower and smile are timeless after all
Accessible to us all.
But how do you tell a buddha
From a charlatan?
A buddha is able to answer with silence.
(1/3/26)
I followed him
with bowed head
and borrowed faith,
until my feet grew heavy
from walking
another man’s truth.
I walked away
not in pride,
but in sorrow.
For how can one become the light
by standing in its shadow?
I looked into the mirror of my soul
and saw his face
already there.
He whispered,
not with words,
but with silence.
Silence taught me
what sermons could not.
Listening became my prayer.
I lost myself
in desire,
in gold,
in longing.
Only then
did wisdom find me.
By the river
I learned time is a lie,
and pain is a teacher.
The water spoke gently:
You must break
to understand wholeness.
I walked away from purity,
and found truth in failure.
No path fits every soul.
I loved.
I suffered.
I let go.
And only then I knew—
love,
not intellect,
completes the soul.
(“Ascending Triptych aka Shape Shifter”, 2011, original oil)
The human condition is both vast and simple
Both lofty and hard to grasp and
Immediately at hand
And intimately knowable.
Everyone is different
But everyone is ultimately the same
In our basic elements, in our source
At our core.
This is who we really are; the divine made flesh,
A completeness of wisdom and compassion,
In every cell,
And yet our condition is also ignorance of this.
But since our most basic level of being
Is the divine
It permeates all our works
All our traditions, religions and spiritual paths,
Since there is in truth nothing outside
The sphere of utmost purity and light
No matter how muddled and dark
Our experience of it is.
(11/19/25)
Something oh so simple
Shows me how I’m rooted
In this life’s time and place
But with roots really out of time
I’m triggered by connections
To recall my original face
(11/16/25)
(“The Longest Journey”, 2017, original encaustic)
Remember now
Without a doubt
The source of all you dream
The source of Life itself
Your home when there was no other
Your home before you ever left
To begin the greatest journey
Your long and winding road
To this very moment
Nowhere else to go
But here and now
Nothing else to know
But this source
Shining in ever new forms
Smiling in the face
Of danger, suffering, confusion, doubt
Shining with the morning Sun
With light that’s never really gone.
(11/15/25)
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