Nashville Tennessee quite the destination.
Historical birthplace of so many illustrious careers.
Phenomenal live concerts and museums.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
(“Desert Dreams II”, 2023, original encaustic)
Forty days and forty nights
Alone in the desert is no small thing,
Demons after all are demons
No matter how big or small,
No matter if for a moment or a day,
But lifetime after lifetime we all wander,
An endless passage of days and nights,
Filled with just our share
Of demons and angels.
But what are these phantom beings after all,
Projections of our psyche
Or cosmic forces which in turn have projected us?
And still we travel on
As days turn into nights, and nights to days
Angels morphing into demons and back
Putting our psyches on display
Like the contents of a mind laid out
On the front lawn for yard sale
All of it cleared out and willingly let go,
For pennies on the dollar,
Or a garage ready for spring cleaning
Preparing for one last bucket-list road trip
To the West and south with its endless deserts
Seekers and vision questers
Wandering, 'round and ‘round
Searching for a way out but not back.
(2/2/26)
1.
So I set out upon the roads
that wind through your forests and fields—
the old pilgrimage paths
where saints once sought solace.
I walk not with anger
but with a heart made tender
by longing.
2.
At Studenice, I touch the stones
that heard the hymns of women
who consecrated their lives
to silence and compassion.
At Brezje, I kneel beneath Our Lady’s gaze,
feeling her mantle stretch
over plains and mountains alike.
At Sveta Gora, the wind tells stories
older than our language.
3.
Along this road,
I see signs of hidden fidelity.
An old man tracing a cross
before lifting bread to his lips.
A young mother whispers a prayer
while her child sleeps.
A solitary bell that rings each dusk
even when no one gathers.
4.
And the Lord speaks through them all:
“My child, faith is not dead.
It sleeps in the embers
beneath the ashes of fear.
Blow gently, and it shall burn again.”
5.
So I continue my journey,
carrying a lantern of hope
into the deepening night.
Pilgrimage is not an escape
but a return—
a slow reclaiming of the soul
of the land I love.
*Pilgrimage in Darkness*
I walked through countless paths
Worn down by memories
Each footprint is a spiritual guide
Like a fleeting ray of light
Disappearing with moment's grace
In search of the enlightened mind
Through the darkest of nights
Stumbling upon the various folds of the Earth
To be enveloped in the dark
Victory— a distant thought
Covered by the path of failure
And the thousand needles of destiny
I felt upon nimble feet
I am starved and parched
Deprived of the feeling of hope
Illusion plagued my mind
But only a holy light restored it
Like an endless dream
I wander on
Through thick and thin
'Til my feet are torn
At last we are here!
At the peak of human life!
The nectar of peace upon my throat
As the seed of wisdom took root.
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
Old man
cycles Nathez Trace
Search for youth
One day I'll drive there.
On the way
I'll tell my wife about the Modoc woman,
who lived outside the city,
above a sea lion rookery.
She taught me a Klamath-Modoc prayer:
“I want you animals to know, open your eyes,
a hungry man has killed one of you.
One day we will find out
what happened to its spirit
then we will go meet with it,
for it was my brother.”
She rowed a boat on the spume
of the wild cove waves.
I knew her, she had the way of truth in her.
When I get to the Redwoods,
I'll visit her clapboard home.
Look for her twelve year old Ford truck,
her briny patch of hand-reared garden,
her small surf-riding boat.
The sheriff reported her, `missing in transit.'
Maybe she went off
with that son-of-a- jailbird
who had twice tried to kill her.
I'll take the back roads, getting lost
until we reach the ocean.
When we get to Crescent City,
we'll sit by the harbor and watch the sea lions
savoring their deep throated funk.
I'll tell my wife I love her,
and she will taste the salt of my words.
Give it up. All of that. It is about Time. All of that.
I wish I could be another line, more than that!
A wedding, a red saree and a bracelet moment
A garnishing with flower petals and scientific hiccups
To see clouds, after or before Pepto-Bismol
To touch flowers after Alka seltzer
To seek supplication after understanding a motif
A smile, a long lost smile.
And a croon, touching for a synonym hand for a lull-a-bye!
And a tranquility, submerged in emptiness!
January 20, 2024
Dont ever ask me... Now!
Where am I? Now!
I won't answer your question...now,
All I can say... I'm on a pilgrimage...
Dont you know?
I said it to you twice,
It's my healing year,
I took it without any consultation,
I'm free! You know,
To choose my days...
...mouths... Even years.
This year seems special,
Perfect!
For a healing mission,
To disconnect from any dissatisfaction,
I'm on a pilgrimage,
O! You dont know?
What's a pilgrimage,
I will explain this later,
When I come back...
When? I come back?
Dont ask me when... Where... Why?
I'm not ready for your questions,
I don't have those explanations,
Right night! All I can say...
I'm on a pilgrimage,
My journey just began.
Unwrittten
Nocturnal
Wanderings
Reminiscent of
Iconic
Travellers
Traversing
Exuberant
Night where
Absence
Begets
Sullen
Emotions
Never
Carefully
Expressed
SS
18th September 2023
---
Contest: Unwritten Absence
Sponsored by: Ink Empress
*WINNER* Placed 3rd
Prayerful perusal of the
Internal
Language of
God
Redressing of the many
Intricate
Misdirections
Attributed to
Grafting in the
Earthbound arena
Jinjagoliath
12th September 2023
(On the road to Kailash, Tibet, 2009)
There and Back Again
Pilgrimage
An ideal place
Seen through
An ideal lens
And so we go!
The journey of all souls
In endless procession
To the top of the world
Up above the highest heights
Where the air is thin
Light bright
Mind clear
Up where idealism
Meets the rutted road
As dust settles
To be just this
And then more of this
Bad food
Bad sleep
Bad roads
And good company
All within a beauty
Best appreciated
In retrospect
And coffee table books
In the moment
Self-flagellating
Down the path
To enlightenment
Seeking what
We’ve always had
But never held
A view of inner peace
Light and love
Purified of its dross
By the grind of the road
We pilgrim on
This endless dream
There and back again
There and back again….
(9/11/23)
(Tibetan teen at a tea house in Saga, Western Tibet, 2009)
With Light
I walked through the market
but there was nothing I wanted to buy,
nothing I thought I needed,
until the smile
on the faces of a few
gave me what can’t be bought,
and in that moment I drained the full cup
I’d been carefully holding
and filled it anew
with light.
(2019)
(Upper slopes of Emeishan, China, 2017)
Six Pilgrim Poems
In the Park
Belly full of chi
sky with gentle rain waters
dancers like flowers
My Dzogchen Realization
“Ah, Ah” says Raven
in play, in jest, proclaiming
primordial sound
The Way
Alone I wander.
Too tired to climb the peaks
I settle into the valley
Following the way.
Emeishan
In the mountain clouds
the peaks remain elusive
while trees dance and breathe.
On the Way
On the way
all effort
is exhausted in the doing
This Dream
simple and complete
everything is everything
in this dream of ours
(first published in my third book of poems, SUN MADE FLESH AND FIBER, 2019)
Every six turns of the moon
A journey to the girl I take.
I leave behind my safe cocoon
Into the noise and into the fake.
The pungent smell of multicolours
Punching nose and mind alike.
I sit and pause in splendid parlours
Waiting for the joy to strike.
And strike it does, oh glory be.
Electric sparks and lowing moans.
At last she uses teeth on me.
Her gentle strokes, my buzzing bones.
Decisions made I walk to water.
She will wash my sins away.
She mentions something of her daughter,
I've never answered to this day.
In my goddess tank I float.
Blues and greens with sea and sand.
I am the castle, and they are the moat.
At last the call comes from the land.
She leads me to the gate and smiles.
Our deal is done, the job complete.
My world is lighter by the miles.
I smile and wave then walk the street.
My pilgrimage is at an end;
Returning to my warm cocoon.
She and I will meet again.
After six turns of the moon.
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