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One Dharma, Many Paths
Fall 1991   Vol. 8 #1
Fall 1991   Vol. 8 #1

Poems/Not Poems

Mind

By Anne Waldman

 
 

(This is the last section of a three-part poem, Lokapala)

 

Excerpted from Lokapala: A Note

When you have exhausted your power, your conquer-the-world-is-at-your-call mentality and hit ground, you meet Lokapala who always resides there. She is what we’d strive for, or he as the case may be, or both to confront and subsume. Absorb. It’s what the great religions attempt all the time & often Lokapala eludes them. . . . Loka is place or realm. Pala, the protector of that spot. Trees are lokapalas, as are rocks.

. . .

 

Mind

Mind of spectral places

Mind overcast like day

It begins

Channels move out of my house

like rays of mad dogs

to find their place

Your mind. Is it your mind?

The mind that woos & speaks

is located in the animal this moment

in Molly’s cry the next

Mind gives up on a magazine

Mind motions back to the beginning

Mother mind, are you there?

How it starts, is triggered

by a glance

starts up, kicks in

to acknowledge

place in body eyeball

goads on & sports with the notice

it has a body

with limbs

dances inside this form

is encapsulated by it

Romance to make it solid

& be in love

or in hate (dented)

then breaks apart

& is of many minds

Goes mad

splitting & branching off

Notice the sweat on the brow

of her mind

She’s been observed

in concentration on a minute thing

How the edges of her moisture

light up

She sweeps her hand

across her forehead

like a soldier is hot

in battle

in desert

in jungle

Mind in place – can that be said?

How can you say that?

Is it upon us?

The flood? a great melting?

Is it coming, the great drying up?

Desert?

Have the armies crossed the

imagined line yet?

Is it to be thought of?

Will they make it?

Has she marched in yet

with her many wide battalions?

Will she stomp her feet there?

Can we rescue this place from

scorch & burn?

Will we swim in blood and fire?

Can you speak of it or are

you just thinking

How can you say “is mind in place?”

Does it have a chance?

She (the night, the news) is formidable

I piped my mind

into the pipe in the range

of old time & talk

Mind in spectral places

Mind overcast like the day began

The channels move out like rays

You say this again because

it describes the action

the little tunnels witness

as mind travels through

The yardmen approach

with a plan

To lay more pipe & channel

water through

Looking over the distance

get up close to the board

“This is the spot”

they say

“This is it, this

is the spot”

“But how wide?

“How wide is it?”

Try a plan

Put your mind to it

& birds & humming too

Try it

Get a mind focused on the

spark of weapon’s point

on knife that cuts night

(Is she arrived yet?)

Get a mind hooked to

a syllable resembling

a picture of standing awe

that stands awake

electrifying blue

Syllable that echoes

your response

& turns a pulse

Light beats down

on the definitive town

on the definitive brick

recognized by itself as

a kind of torch

beacon of what could occur

what could be built

what could light a way

To be home to

be a layer

over the spot you selected

when you last looked

(Lokapala was waiting)

So many explosions inside a cone

inside the calling inside

concept “town”

budding in a kind of

trance preparation

because mind is golden

like the Aztec city

mind lifts the wind like

a sacrifice

mind is heart exploded

O believe it

a particular blush or blurt

It’s semi-arisen

It cropped up because

it can’t help exuberance

& leads the way toward

slam or dunk

through hoop of mind

O believe it

My spot spoke loudly to me

as soldier or good sport

Lost its quick attire

long expanse to go a

billion light years

waiting for any dream

to poke you out

sighting her/my past

to clinch it

Where does mind come from?

It’s all mental now

traces of wounds disappear

at twilight

(she’s coming, she’s

coming soon, now)

Healed, yet aging

The mind knows more now

that it’s collected

other points of view

& politics were soundly dressed

over in a current mood

As fuel got spent, got

spent, got spent

& mind won’t take too much

to go on

It goes on

So is she here yet?

May I call her back if

I have to?

Will she come?

She is revelatory

in her posture

in her look of animal intensity

to guard her spot

Is she the lost animal

in my desire?

What is mind’s desire?

Do the parts add up

Is the picture well-rounded

Do the women meet their bodies

first inside the belly of

their own minds

Questions are thoughts too

The coiled syllable stretches

As you watch it  it weaves

vibrating through

the channels of life & death

Could I say more?

That the place is forbidden

That that is why you go there

That you were located

in the curiosity

that jumped first

that leaped to

seize on that spot

or thought

That you spoke cruel things

all around

That speech lead you to war

That mind could never

fully be spoken

Mind was coiled

& waiting

Outer, inner

& secret latitudes

could map

the touch of mind

It is a torch to

the deity

who lies coiled

& waiting

that asks are you

here yet

that stole your mind

one day

that tripped your wire

& you fell back

into concept

It was a ruse to

shed a tear

on this very ground

on which you began

to grow

Here’s earth

Stake it out

 

∞

 

From Lokapala. Rocky Ledge Cottage Editions, 1991.
Reprinted with permission of the author in the Fall 1991 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 8, No. 1)
Text © 1991–2021 by Anne Waldman

Topics

Poetry


Author

Anne Waldman is cofounder of The Poetry Project at St. Marks’s Church In-the-Bowery and the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado (now Naropa University), where she remains a distinguished professor of poetics and director of Naropa's celebrated Summer Writing Program. Since the 1960s, Waldman has been an active member of the Outrider experimental poetry community. See her website, annewaldman.org 

Author

Anne Waldman is cofounder of The Poetry Project at St. Marks’s Church In-the-Bowery and the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado (now Naropa University), where she remains a distinguished professor of poetics and director of Naropa's celebrated Summer Writing Program. Since the 1960s, Waldman has been an active member of the Outrider experimental poetry community. See her website, annewaldman.org 

 
 
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