Subtle Shades of Cave

Draped in a blue-green-gray
and the other subtle shades of cave
I paint my urban-hermit utopia--
this palace of petals arrising
where my foot falls,
this monastery of conversations
and arriving--I'm not sure
if my prayers are just beginning
or being answered.

What's the difference?

I find signs of being
between. Two states saturating each's other.
Neither complete. Neither a stranger.
One leg up and one leg down.
A waiting sandal.

Am I
leaving seclusion or the world?
My hands are going to or from my lips.
Is this in thanks or entreaty?
Is realization lost or found?

What's the difference?

My face appears
exploding with some hard-won undeniability.
Perhaps it's that
my altar is empty. Its open sides becoming
the walls of all this I am searching through:
this bodhidharmabubble of form.



by jerry gordon