At the Edges of the West
Volume 2

By Mike Garofalo

Travels on US Interstate 5 and Hwy 99

Travels on US Highway 101 and Hwy 1

Great Agricultural Valleys
Coastal, Sierra, and Cascade Mountains
Memories of Pacific Coast Places
West Coast Snapshots & Snippets

Short Poems, Haiku, Photos
Quatrains, Limericks, Graphics
Concrete Poems, Lists, Text Art
Rhymed and Free Verse
Themes: Times, Places, Minds

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents, Volume 2

The Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam

qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas?
asutelciba cicaxw tebixw

In the Time Before Everything Changed
the Transformers and Changers
lived in the Ocean's Womb
before the Waters receded.
Then They Came, and Everything Changed.

The Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam.
An Amazing New World then Began.

Both inside and outside the Magical Clam—
Coming Forth, Coming From, Coming, coming—

Then They Came, and Everything Changed.
People and new plants were created.
New mosses, mushrooms, camas bulbs,
    and huckleberries appeared.
New cedars, spruces, firs,
    and salal berries appeared.
The San Juan Islands, Hood Fjord,
    Salish Seas and King Salmon appeared.
Enemies, diseases, and famine appeared.

People learned from the Transformers/Changers/Teachers:
Raven, Coyote, Honne, Xwane, Turtle,
Bear and Thunderbird.
How to become Human Beings
    in a dangerous World.
How to become heartless at times.
How to gather, hunt, and fish for food.
How to weave and keep a fire.
What plants to eat, what not.
What to Believe and Do
    in order for their tribe to survive.
How to deal with surprise.

All kinds of beings emerged-created.
People lived, worked, Spoke and mated.

Coyote howled and cheered!
Thunderbird ordered the rain and thunder.
Shape-Shifters played and plundered.
Xwane saved two girls from blunders.
Honne stopped a flood.

The Magical Clam: A Singularity Opening,
Beginnings Beyond the Understanding
    Of Ordinary Times and Minds.

From Something New Came Something New.

The Raven cawed, gurred, mmmured, croaked;
then hid in trees away from folks.

Myths and Lore
Of the Native Peoples of the Pacific Northwest

Table of Contents

Things Stick Tight

Of things mechanical
I've little ken,
I fumble and fuss
from start to end.
Where a mechanic
pushes right
I pull left till
things stick-tight,
And bend things
I shouldn't bend,
till they ain't right.

I could blame my bumbling
On 80 years of overwork or bursitis
but such evasions are merely a clever
hiding of the truth that I never
Was a skilled toolman whatsoever.

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents

Winter at the Door

All the cabbages in our garden
are robust green to the core;
All the peppers are dead black,
not green and red anymore.
The onions are thriving,
the tomatoes all gone,
The lettuce is rising,
the Fava beans all stored—
It’s wet now in Red Bluff,
Winter’s knocking at the door.

outside the door
bone dry
    dog turds
laced with frost

outside the door
the cold wind
blows more
quite a roar

inside the door
gardening, art,
and literature
books galore
litter the floor

close the damn door
keep cold air out
keep warm air in
it's simple, amen

Cuttings: Month by Month Snippings

Table of Contents

2+2=4: Now and Forever More

A lady was studying her Bible
in a Cayucos cafe one foggy day.
We somehow struck up a conversation,
and she tried to show me The Way.
She believed every Bible Word she read,
and she said,
"If the Bible said, 2+2=5;
I would believe that until I die."

I smiled; hid my contempt.
Then paid my cafe bill, and
counted out a four dollar tip.
Headed out on the very long
Cayucos Pier to fish.
A fine cool fisherman's day ...
Luckily, I caught four fish

With some guarded doubts and disbelief,
I don't believe in all that I or others think;
Fictions and fantasies for fun are fine,
But I prefer a factual ordinary useful mind.

Memories of Pacific Coast Places

Table of Contents

Chanting Canyon Streams

Opening bell
echoes from the canyon walls—
   raindrops on the river

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks
the shadows of trees traced on trees

      I sit, still...

The canyon river chants,
Moving Mountains

The sermon spun on the still point:
dropping off eternity, picking up time;
letting go of self, awakened to Mind.

The shadows of trees traced on trees
moving to and fro effortlessly.

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks.
Karen and I once saw a man
         Killed
by a large falling rock.

Uncommon Considerations

Zen Buddhist Research

Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series 1-7

Table of Contents

Electric Fatalities

What you see might never be,
Changed for the better by factories.
What you hear might bring you fear,
Of nuclear power plants coming here.

San Onofre, Humboldt Bay, Chehalis all Closed,
Nuclear waste locked in hot concrete commodes.
Diablo Canyon headed for the same fate,
San Luis Obispo, Avila, spared somewhat late.

We can't deny Fukushima's tsunami demise,
Our West Coast shares that Ring of Fire Alive.
We shudder and shake in earthquakes strong.

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

Table of Contents

Yellow Patty-Pans in the Pure Sunshine

Hardly thinking, mind still.
Strolling out into the garden
Awakening in the dawn glow.
Summer sun rising over the cloudless Cascades.
Morning sun undarkening the Yolly Bollys.
Deep green fat squash leaves,
Worry free, covering the damp clay soil.

Later, at noon, in sunshine bright
My hands search the straw mulch for
Spaghetti squash, patty pans, crook-necks,
   zucchini, pumpkins, cantaloupes,
    cucumbers, gourds.
All fattening on water, sun, and soil.

I touch the vines and smile,
    grasping colored fruits and beans.
Worry free, pleased just to be
Me, the sum of things, I am That—

A billion bees sucking a trillion flowers,
In the Valley Spirit of a million summers.
San Joaquin and Sacramento Valley Time.
Living and dead, endless vines of beings,
Past and Present merge Now—

As I fill to the brim with twining thoughts,
Fattening on ideas, memories,
fantasies, images, reflections,
A pumpkin mind, full of word seeds,
A growing Matrix of Words we see.

As it should be.

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Table of Contents

Walnut Trees on a Winter Day

Along 99W one January day,
men were cutting down
an old walnut grove; and
this led me to say:

The Mind is a vast Bodhi Grove,
The body a Bodhi tree.
Dirt is in every cranny,
Flowers blossom, leaves bud,
nuts drop, leaves fall.

The Bodhi Trees were
cut down,
The Bright Mirror shattered.

Beginning with nothing,
Replant the trees,
remake the mirror—

Make one's mind like a mirror,
One's body like the Giving Tree.
Reflect accurately
and impartially;
Give nuts and shade.

Cuttings: Month by Month Snippings

Table of Contents

Skeletons in Love

Live long enough,
and the losses pile up,
Till you're tossed away
like an old cracked cup,
All stained and worm,
dulled by time,
Useless, leaking,
not worth a dime.
Then, you die, sometime.

Egoless, your flesh falls away,
You, a skeleton becomes;
Lost in Nirvana,
lights out,
all done.

Nine months later
to your utter surprise,
you awaken in bed,
Changed, very much alive.
Not as Kafka's
Ungeheueres Ungeziefer,
or as Casper the Ghost
all covered in fur;
Not as a Memaloose on the Run,
but as a horny Stud Skeleton.

Then, the Skeleton Woman
drinks your dry tears,
Drums your still heart,
and sings away fears,
Slips under the quilts
and gives Love a Whirl;
Spinning, twirling,
your reborn as a Girl.

Forget yourself,
crack the cup on the floor,
Speak in a new voice,
the past is no more.

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents

The Illusions of Seven O'Clock

TV is Deceiving—
On episodes of comedy sitcoms
(But few are funny,
phony fake laugh tracks wrong),
Or on:
news on political themes,
ads on buying things,
shows on alien beings,
shows on relics of the dead,
wagering on sports teams,
laughing on Que cards,
faked survival-naked tests,
failed Yeti searches,
foodies eating rare animals,
beer is OK, smoking is Not,
televangelists preaching success,
commercials-commericals All day,
ads for cars on roads all alone—

These are hardly strange
with colors, audio, graphics,
drone photography, and more.
And narrators so melodious.
People are going to Dream
of fake heroes and heroines
and promised products,
no matter how odious.

Somewhere, a tired old man,
asleep in his shorts,
Dreams of tortillas and tomatillos,
Eating in cafes in foggy ports,
Catching flies with chopsticks,
Reading Wallace Stevens' Quartz.

At the Edges of the West, Volume 2

Table of Contents

saghili pee keekwillie chuck:
the tide comes in, the tide goes out

skookum tum tum klaghanie:
stroll bravely out

Yes, I've heard the Memaloose Ghosts
in the Sitkas and Firs all talking,
and I've also left quickly in fear fast walking.
They mumbled in the marshes and bays,
and along the shoreline before the day.

I've dreampt of skulls and skeletons,
graveyards of broken canoes,
Islands of the Dead,
creepy Clatsop Chinook stories in my head.

In the Nehalem rain,
with a deep dark dripping forest all around,
a Memaloose Ghost whispered to me
in these hallowed grounds:

"Saghili pee keekwillie chuck;
elip lekleh yes ahha,
Iktah Mitlite Konaway
Wake Sia Kopa.
Mika chuck chako
pee klatawa, oleman;
Alta elip klose ahha
tenas hehe pee hyas wawa
pee klata kopa lapea
skookum tum tum
klaghanie ahha."

Graciously, Roshi Raven,
translated the Chinook Jargon for me:

"The tide comes in, the tide goes out;
that's essential, Yes,
to What It's All About.
Your tide flows out, old man;
So it's now best to smile and shout, Yes,
and stroll bravely out."

Four Days at Grayland Beach
Coastal Yurt Camping
iOregon and Washington

At the Edges of the West, Volume 1

Table of Contents

Seeing Both as One

Crape myrtle, brilliant red,
    bursting forth;
Hiding the garden.
Some days, only the Garden,
    entire, serene;
Yet, hiding from sight,
    shy, single plants.
Seeing Both, seldom,
but as One:
Sweat poured from my
    startled brow,
Dripping on the dry earth,
And all became Sunshine
And shadows of surprise
    unraveling.

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Table of Contents

Uncle Mike Took Me to See Bruce Lee

My Uncle Mike,
in 1968,
taught me
to tie my shoe laces,
took me
to see Bruce Lee in
Enter the Dragon
at Grauman's Chinese,
walked me around
the campus at USC,
drove me
on trips to the sea,
treated me
with tasty new foods,
and played fun games
with me.

Decades later,
now old and gray,
my Uncle Mike came
to the City of Spokane
to my daughter's wedding day.
Danced with my wife,
enjoyed the buffet,
laughed with his wife, Aunt Karen,
chuckled at bawdy lyrics,
explored the Victorian house,
smoked a MaryJ,
and smiled all day.

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series

Table of Contents

A Quacking Cacophony

Coming home
long necked geese—
Canadian-Americans

A warm rest for
coots, geese, and ducks—
wet rice fields

The white geese
ascend from the far fields
fleeing popping shotguns

The honking geese—
a quacking cacophony
flapping overhead

Flocks of white
geese in the light gray fog—
this way and that way

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Table of Contents

my lips turned to stones

I first met Master Chang San-Feng
on a trail, above the forest,
near the clear spring, in 2003,
when gathering clouds darkened the day,
and Mt. Shasta was silent.

His long beard was black as emptiness,
ear lobes to his shoulders,
holding obsidian in his hand,
pointing to the sun,
eyes staring into infinity,
his long body clothed in silence.

We exchanged "hellos"
smiled and bowed,
a barbarian and an Immortal,
both panting from the climb,
laughing,
ten-thousand echoes
between our rocky minds.

After billions upon billions of heartbeats past
(for he must have been 888 years old),
I was so bold
as to ask the ancient one
for the sacred mantra of yore.

He lifted his whisk,
and brushed my face.
I could not speak,
my lips turned to stones.
Ideas stopped!
I was alone—

Taoism: Lore, Practices, Poetry

Tao Te Ching: Anthology and Concordance

Meetings with Master Chang-San Feng

Table of Contents

The Salmon Are Back

From north to south, and south to north,
Up and down, all year round,
    moving around
    to and from
    for food, for mates, for warmth and sun:
the swallows at Capistrano,
the butterflies at Monterey,
the geese from Canada,
the whales from Vancouver Island,
the salmon from the North seas.
Traveler's all
    on the West Coast
    flyways and seaways;
    like clockwork on calendars,
    predictable, expected
        treasured—

The Spirit of Gardening
Over 3,600 quotations for gardeners
    and lovers of the Green Way.

Table of Contents

Blooming Onions Pulled from the Mind-Ground

Bermuda, Walla Walla, Spanish, Southport—
Onions All!

Pick 'em, Pull 'em, Cook 'em, Eat 'em.
Think about Th'em
    and their garden bed homes,
    and the gardener working there all alone,
    brimming with ideas for here to show:

Mother Nature is always pregnant.
The Uhr Spell is "Abundant Fertility."

Roundness is the Holy Shape.
A shovelful of soil can inspire an epiphany.
The empty garden is already full.
Our actions always emerge
    in the reality of the future.

A callused palm and dirty fingernails
    precede a Green Thumb.
Gardens are demanding pets.
The end of the garden is at the end of the hose.
Sitting in a garden and doing nothing
    is high art everywhere.
Creativity in gardening is often
    spurred on by destructive impulses.

Failures, disorder and death are
    the Grim Reaper of Entropy at work.
Somehow, someway, everything
    gets eaten up, someday.
Death's door is always unlocked.
When Death grins at you, grin back;
     when death beckons you, run away.
No garden lasts for long—neither will you.

Dogmatists are less useful than dogs.
That something is eternal is seems unverifiable.
Create your own garden, the god's certainly won't.
When the Divine knocks,
    don't send a prophet to the door.
It is better to cultivate spiritual fruits
    than religious nuts.
The Boundless is like wind over the ocean,
    the boundary like a knife.
Does the City of God
    meet current building codes?
Different places, different advice.

There is not much to say about the "Unknown."
A working hypothesis is
    far better than a belief.
Many people are better at believing than seeing.
The real "miracle" is cause and effect.
The "eternal truths" are sometimes clearly false.

As you move your hands so you move your mind.
Watering is the practice of gentleness.
Harvesting is the practice of living.

Wishes are like seeds,
    few ever develop into something.

What you see depends on when you look.
Beauty is the Fetish Mistress,
    the gardener her devoted slave.
What do you need or want to see?
What is it that you lust to smell?
Some pleasures lick, chew, savor and swallow us.

Time creeps, walks, runs and flies
    it is all about moving things.
Time is something everyone runs
    short on and finally runs out of.
Chaos breaks its own Rules
    to allow Order to play.
Despite the gardener's best intentions,
    Nature will improvise.

Just the right words can be worth
    more than a thousand pictures.
The meaning is lost in the saying,
    a nature mystic's dilemma.

One's "true self" is changing and elusive.
Wear a variety of masks;
    acting is essential to coping.
It is more about You and Now,
    rather than Them and Back Then.
Your garden is a portrait of yourself.

The best things in life are
    more expensive than you think.
Having fun may be habit forming.
Take life with a grain of salt
     and a icy margarita.

The most important Master is Self-Mastery.
There is no 'i' in "team,"
    but there is an 'm' in me, my, and mine.

Rather than "love mankind,"
    I'd rather admire a few good people.
Some flourish when crowded together,
    others don't.
A flower needs roots;
    beauty a society of minds.

A wise gardener knows when to stop.
Learning how to garden is
    learning how to slow down.

Absolutes squirm beneath realities.
Complexity is closer to the Truth.
"Mas o menos" is often quite sufficient.

When life gives you onions,
    you ain't making lemonade.

It's over when it ends.

Pulling Onions
Over 1,000 one-line quips, considerations,
ruminations, suggestions, and observations.

Table of Contents

A Fork in the Crypto Road

We stopped for coffee in Forks WA one day
on the way to Crescent Lake’s forest shade.
The barista smiled, polite, earned a tip.
We sipped and talked about Rips in Time,
splittings, divergences, separations between
Crypto-beings versus real creatures we can find.
Cryptozoology, not bitcom crypto schemes, but
plenty of amazing pseudo-science scuttlebutt.
Yes, Cryptids living on the Quillayute River
or on its incoming Bogachiel or Sol Duc streams.
Or, four Chupacabras in La Push.
Or, Big Foot and Little Foot
      crossing the Hwy 101 road at dusk.

Forks pretends to host Vampires,
teenage blood suckers on the night prowl,
teenage Werewolves howling, running fast,
Humans afraid of these creatures’ wrath.

Human, not so human, called by the Night,
confused, resisting, teenagers losing the fight
against inner demons and lusty needs
and ordinary life with real human beings.

Many beings eat, fight and kill to survive,
wily, tricky, stealthy, with a hunter’s pride.
The Horned God has history on his side.
Hunger keeps us all on the Edge,
ready to amorally pounce from a hedge
and slaughter or harvest creatures just ahead.
We are all Vampires
rising from the dead. Its said,
Living and dying scenes
are sometimes seen in vivid Red.

Books and movies started it all,
now all Fork’s stores sell
    Vampire and Werewolf dolls.
Motel rooms are decorated in Twilight themes.
Crypto-Reality, fantasies, fictions,
    magical scenes.

Drawing thousands of titillated tourists here.
Happy Forkers counting more dollars there.

Its said that
Big Foot roams the nearby lush Hoh woods
seeking a lean Sasquatch Lady with big boobs.
She temporarily hides her alluring charms
    from clumsy Big Foot’s fingers and arms,
Carrying a Sasquatch-Yeti baby in her arms.

Why do we often picture and portray
Big Foot as lonely male, a hairy ugly guy,
a grumpy solitary fellow,
without a female, family, friend,
or clan at his side.

And, we have Paul Bunyan, The Logger Man,
a machine of a man, with Babe, his Blue Ox,
dragging logs from the land; plundering
forests till their gone, then moving on.
Nowadays, from Quinault firs
to Humboldt coastal mountain pines,
diesel logging trucks packed full are the rule.
There's a huge statue of Paul the Lumberjack
his axe and ox, in Requa-Klamath CA,
at the Trees of Mystery,
along Highway 101 to this very day.

Highway 101 and Hwy 1
Memories of Pacific Coast Places
Forks, Olympic Peninsula, Washington

Table of Contents

Prime Your Mind with Some Guiding Rhymes

Find some beauty, it’s your duty.
Try your best to avoid excess.
A smile walks a long mile.
Stand tall and embrace all.
Handle tools with respectful rules. 
Get your ass moving or you’ll be losing.
Take the halo off your heroes. 
Consider others as your brothers.
Your purpose in life should guide you right.
Walk your talk.
Be at ease often, please.
Just sit and you will become unfit. 
Smoker’s breath—coughing death. 
Booze your body, bamboozle your mind.
Goodness has a portion of badness.
The seasons give us many reasons.
Insight is often hindsight.
Just one word can unravel what we heard.
We cannot resist believing fictions exist.
We relish and repeat, we link with what we like.
Rigidity is stupidity.
Jumping to conclusions—pleasing your illusions.
Slow down before you hit the ground.
Hate locks Love’s Gate. 
Norms are not Eternal Forms.
Ambiguity decreases perspicuity. 
Unbelieving is a source of relieving or grieving. 
Right brain, left brain: tracks below our Living Trains.
You can’t hide from the Big Surprise. 
Rather than cut and dried, favor the whole alive. 
Make history in some new way each day. 
Keep track so as to stay on track. 
Thinking unifies, experience diversifies.
Keep ready with light feet.
Wiping the mind’s mirror will not make seeing clearer.
Beings are Becomings—for the time-being. 
Changing yourself causes others to change.

How to Live a Good Life
Advice from Wise and Respected Persons

Table of Contents

Meditations on Time, Mind, Three and Me

Indeed,
We do deal with daily dualities
while living night and day
seeking pleasures avoiding pain
the Dao and Us evolving today.

Then,
there are the Threesome Realms.
One Big Three,
in particular,
truly fascinates me:
Past, Present, Future ...

Shifting, standing, let's go ...

"He who holds that nothingness
Is formless, flowers are visions,
Let him enter boldly!"
- Gido (1325-1388)
Japanese Zen Master

Recreate the Past

I saw Master Chang San-Feng
Enter the Sidhe, Fairies by his side,
Crossing over the teahouse pond at dawn.
Astonished I was!

On the teahouse table by the pond,
I later found
Some of his neatly printed notes
Folded in a well-worn translation
Of the Tao Te Ching, in Chapter 14.

He had written:
”Even for an Immortal, the Past is the Key.

The Future
Grasp at it, but you can’t get it,
Colorless as an invisible crystal web,
Unformed, thin, a conundrum of ideas,
The Grand White Cloud
   Temple of Possibilities,
Flimsy as a maybe, strong as our hopes,
Silent as eternal Space.

When you meet it,
   you can’t see its face.
You want to stand for it,
   but cannot find a place.

The Present,
It appears and disappears
   through the moving
   ten thousand things,
Quick as a wink,
   elusive as a hummingbird,
Always Now with no other choice,
Moving ground, unstable Plates,

Real as much as Real gets to Be,
This Day has finally come,
Room for something, for the moment, waits
Gone in a flash, assigned a date,
Gulp, swallowed by the future.
Unceasing, continuous, entering and leaving
The vast empty center of the Elixir Field.


The Past,
Becoming obscurer, fading, falling apart,
A mess of memories in the matrix of brains;
Some of it written, fixed in ink,
   chiseled in stone,
Most of it long lost in graves
   of pure hard gray bones.
Following it you cannot see its back,
Only forms of the formless, stories, tales,
Images of imageless, fictions, myths.
A smattering of forever fixed facts,
Scattered about the homes
   of fading ghosts.
The twists and turns of millions of tongues
Leaving us languages,
   our passports to the past.

The Past,
The future becomes past,
the present becomes past,
even the past becomes past.
Everything lives,
subtracting but seconds for Nowness,
in the Past.
The Realms of the Gods, the kingdoms of men,
The Evolutionary Tree with roots
   a million years long
Intertwined with turtles, dragons,
   trees, stars, grasses and toads;
   crickets, coyotes, cougars, a fly
   ravens, bears, clams, and men.

These profoundest Three of Time
An unraveled red Knot of Mystery,
Evading scrutiny in the darkness of days
Eluding capture in the brightness of nights,
In beginnings and endings are
   only One, the Tao.
Coming from Nowhere, Returning to Nothing.

What dimension of Time
Does your mind dwell within?
   Future, Present or Past?
Where is your Temporal Homeland?

The Past holds the accomplishments,
the created, the glories, the Great.
The Present is but a thin coat of ice
   on the Pond of Fate.
The Future is an illusion,
   a guess,
   a plethora of possible states.

Recreate the Past
by playing within the Present.
Twisting and reeling one’s silky reality
From the Black Cocoons of the Acts
From which we create our Pasts.

Follow the Ancient Ways.
The Past is the Key.”

Taoism: Lore, Practices, Poetry

Tao Te Ching: Anthology and Concordance

Meetings with Master Chang-San Feng

Table of Contents

A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies

Hovering in the Present Time,
in the Present Place,
Caught between the Real and the Imagined,
Cut off from the Past and Future,
Dangling in the Present!
 
Splitting up the Firewood of Dichotomies:
 
Objective/subjective, Things/ideas
    Phenomena/noumena, Real/imagined
Factual/fanciful, Actual/possible
    Multiplicity/singularity, Balanced/unstable
Non-Fiction/fiction, Scientific/literary
    Interesting/dull, Creative/repetitive


Plenty of mind-kindling
for the amateur philosopher’s fireplace.
These ideas fired up my thinking
for many decades.
Dualistic thinking is great kindling
for temporary flickers of insights.
Dualistic thinking is fun and pleasurable,
    naysayers ignored.
Dualistic thinking helped me
    solve some real life problems.
Dualistic thinking kept me
    employed from 1962-2017.
Dualistic thinking helped me
    choose between
    a bowl of rice, and
a painting of a bowl of rice.
Dualistic thinking is at the Core of Science,
true-false logic, precise mathematics,
and applied technologies everywhere.

Dualistic thinking pointed sometimes
    to the essence of Time.
Dualistic thinking wrestled
    with the puzzles of Time.

But,
Thinking in Two's, inappropriate tools,
flies in a bottle, poets stuck on words,
muddles up our meditations by Two's.
No wonder that we get very confused.

Time/timeless, Timing, Day/night,
Past/Present, Present/Future,
Past-Present-Future in Threes.
Now—
Yes, a bit muddled alright;
Time is confusing on first
    and second and third sights.
Many philosophers over centuries
    have seriosly pondered
    the Riddles of Time
    for too long a time.
Why?
Because we want answers
to our obsessive questions
that keep us awake
seeking answers
regarding our fate.


The Arrows of Time
    never rest,
moving forward unrelenting
    irreversible
from hot towards cold
from organized to disorganized
from past to future
from moving towards stillness
from life towards death.
Or,
so it seems,
    to us,
    with our little particulars,
    with our home brew views,
    with our social habits a must.

The Spiderwebs of Time
    are legion
multitudes of nows and thens;
Uncountable heres and theres
    unhitched
from any eternal present
everywhere.

To dance at the still point
Of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures,
this Moment
Now and forever, beyond
ordinary minds.

Not searching, not seeking,
but settling
occasionally
for a here and there
on and off
non-dualistic mind.

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents

Flowers in the Sky

   In a flaming burst,
they kiss the earth,
shout to the sky:
"White! Pink! Yellow!"
Orchards of plums and peaches,  
Acres of mustard-greens.

From the Ten Directions:
Spring brings on flowers,
Flowers bring on Spring.
Coming, here, gone:
Flowers in the Sky.

In the blink of one false eye,
In the blink of One True Eye,
Flowers in the empty sky;
Shimmering, scented ... gone,
Gone, gone, gone far beyond
Their seeds of arising.
But, staying, Here-Now,
A Great Marvel of Manifestation.
Bodhisvattas - for the bees.

Soil, sun, rain, sky ...
Four Elements embracing,
Intertwined in mind.
Unfathomable Matrix;
Scaffolds on scaffolds
Grounded in Otherness.
Below seeds, flowers, leaves,
stems, roots ...
  
Below wet cells embraced,
Below atoms dancing on Energy...
Deeper and deeper below into
What?  A Plenitude, a sacredness.
Emptiness in full bloom.

Above seeds, flowers, leaves,
stems, roots, fruits—
Above water, soil, roots, branches,
Above sensing, feeling, working, thinking ...
Higher and higher out towards
What?  
"Vast emptiness, nothing holy."        
Flowers in the sky.

Leaping from the Ledge of Infinite Regress,
The Unmoved Mover fell into Formlessness:
Pure silence echoed between the galaxies,
Eons of eons vanished in a second,
Withered trees bloomed in fires,
Polar mountains melted, rivers went dry,
Thusness scattered in sixty directions,
Space became Time, time became things.

Black Holes filled with Nirvana,
A billion samadhi mirrors shattered,
Galaxies snuggled within a single skull,
Many became One, One only, only One.

Then,
the Divine Illuminatrix in All Beings
Opened Her clouded Eye, to see:
Flowers in the Sky.

He sat for weeks under the Bodhi Tree
Before the morning sun Opened his Eyes;
Lotus blossoms fell from the sky.
She walked through the Gateless Gate,
Upright, staff in hand;
Plum blossoms opened across the land.

Gnawing on his koan bone,
Suddenly, the taste of insight—
Blue flowers amidst the gravesites.
She sat and sat,
Till yea was nay, and nay was yea;
While roses bloomed on day by day.

Illusions, delusions, foolishness:
Those flowers falling from the sky.
Only the Mind's Eyes
Wishing for otherwise;
As always, embracing fertile lies.
Spinning fictions over facts;
Mythmaking, playful, eager to act,
Seeing what we want to see,
Seeking, yeasaying, seeding, giving it a try.
Having faith in Flowers in the Sky.

These yellow poppies are time,
These green fruits from white flowers are time,
These brown seeds from orange fruits are time,
These gray leafless trees are time.               
And the five fingers of one black hand are time,
And the blinking of two blue eyes are time.
The dirty garden hoe and hoses are time,
And greasy tractor gears are time.

The snows on Mt. Shasta melt time,
Moving Mojave sand dunes cover time,
Cold ocean waves at Gold Bluffs cut time,
The onion seedlings in Salinas sweeten time,
The roaring Feather River rapids erode time;
Ventura flower fields color time.

Remembering is time, forgetting is time.
Black lines of scripture are time,
Great and small doubts are time,
Hungry ghosts and naked demons are time,
Newborn Gods are time.
Death is time, and conception is time.
             
Vulgar time, broken time,
Our time, space-time, in time,
The Right time, before time, Sublime time,
Standard time, beyond time, past time …

Time and time again,
Explaining All and not explaining any-thing.
From Being-Lost, with no abode, selfless, bone dry;
Comes the time-Now for the enlightened cry:
"Flowers in the Sky!"

Imagine what the Will can Do,
Cannot do, will not do.
Imagine more.
Please,
remove the offered flowers
from the great stone Buddha's hands,
before he's blown up at Bamiyan;
and the dust and stones flying high,
Hide the flowers in the sky.

The Buddha raised one flower
Sharing a silent sign;
Maha-Kasyapa smiled,
Keeping an open mind.
Truly eye to eye, free and kind,
Outside any scriptures, beyond the lies;
Fresh flowers in a sunny sky.
Flowers blooming in the sky.

To dance at the still point
   of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures,
   This Moment
Now and forever, beyond minds.  
Not knowing Who or Why,
We stroll in rose gardens, and Love.
   Precious flowers in the sky.
                                                                                                                
Speechless, Dogen stared,
   Shivering in a turning white world
Raising cold dawn moons.
Bright white millions on millions
Of drifting flowery flakes
   Fell fast from the Echizen sky.

Ice pure, elemental, quintessential
Wet, imperfect, flowing time
Packed by the hour, deeper
Deeper down to Winter's core.

The Temple of Eternal Peace creaked,
Snowflakes gathered on Dogen's robe,
One icy crystal streaked the True Eye
Glimpsing into Itself;

Another transmission:
Lovely flowers in the Sky.

Emptiness in Full Bloom: Flowers in the Sky

Above the Fog

Nature Mysticism

Table of Contents

On Not Resisting Temptations

Test, try, experiment - within reason.
Manage your pleasures and desires.
Be open to thinking and feeling in new ways.
Sometimes ignore what other people
   tell you to do or not to do.
Old values are not necessarily better values.
What is "bad" in one generation
   may be "good" in later times.
Enjoy the pleasure of eating apples.
Not resisting temptations can
   be a very good thing.
When someone tells you not to ask,
   sometimes ask and ask again.
With only one life to live - be bolder.
Don't resist the temptation
   to improve, to change, to grow.
Like water, enjoy going downhill
   in new directions.
Embrace intellectual pleasures.
Be suspicious of people who talk too much
   about guilt and punishment.
Some failures are inevitable,
   just get up and move on.
Thinking and doing are often
   more advantageous than believing.
Many people associate sexual pleasure
   with 'sinfulness': nonsense.
Succumb to temptations to laugh more often.
If you can't take advantage of temptations
   then you are not free.
Always Remember What Works for You!

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents

The Scissors of My Decisions

The scissors of my decisions,
cutting the patterns of my life;
shaping my persona and destiny,
and a bit of everything around me.
And, a thousand Others,
from near and far,
shaping our lives, forming our fates,
all ruled by soil, sea, sky, water, and food,
and the One Sun-Star above our noon face.

At the Edges of the West, Volume 2

Table of Contents

Depending on Everything

Ignore your Self, become impersonal;
feel yourself now, as everything turns.

Wrap your arms around your body
Plant your feet into the ground
Touch a tree with your fingers
Breathe out an Om or Aaah sound.
Embrace the Flesh, the blood, the bones,
hold the handy hands that make a man.

As nothings passing nothings
along the long road
on an uphill climb
to Enlightenment Pass;
we laughed and laughed.

[Transient Empty Void Rivers of Egos:
Nothings Passing Nothings;
Laughter lost in the labyrinths of Entropies.]

Feel your Self as everything,
in everything, through everything,
bounded by everything,
emerging from everything else.

My Self digests Everything for Me!
The beauty, strength, energy,
bounty, and marvels of Our Bodies
carry Life on, day after day.
We’re Dependents in that way.

Depending on Everything;
Including my Body, and
my Substance-Less
void-empty soul-mind.

Zen Buddhism

Table of Contents

Stepping Over Epiphanies

Affecting all the molecules in me
the pull of the moon and sea
feeling the call to walk the shore
Smiled, opened the door

Tides and time sent signals to me
to step nimbly over epiphanies
seen flipped over in the turning sands
Surprised, opened my hands

Waiting for nobody but me
a fleck of cold fire
flung out on this fleck of space
Sang out, loved this place

Shore pines paint a background scene
short stubby crooked trees
swaying gently in the salty breeze
Unruffled, I found tranquility

Stunned by the crisp clean colors
savoring the scents of the sea
enchanted by the incessant singing surf
Awakened, a mystical reverie

Pointing to the ineffable realization of
insights known to me alone
erupted up from our sensory realities
Profound, not foreknown

Such awakenings come and go
sometimes fast or sometimes slow
unpredictable visions playing peekaboo
Pausing, not thinking too

Slogging up and down the dunes
breathing hard on Que
one step up, a half-step back
Stopping, quite a view

A romantic couple passes me
by on the thin path through sea grass;
we nod, mumble "hello", step aside
Thinking, will love last

What I see is painted by me
created for free in a brain for me
sucked from the tits of reality
Pondering, illusory or real

I practiced outside today
the Practice of the Outside Way
I figured a few things out
Understanding, what Place's say

Tip toeing over bull kelp strands
stepping on broken shells
avoiding the driftwood piles ever moving
Listening, a virtual foghorn knells

A friendly dog off-leash comes to me
seeking a gentle pat and pet
desiring a kind human face to see
Laughing, she was wet

My grand daughter and I once walked
beside an Oregon dune
not very long ago it seemed to us
Remembering, gone too soon

25 Steps and Beyond Anthology

Table of Contents

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Table of Contents

At the Edges of the West
Volume 2
By Michael P. Garofalo
Memories of West Coast Places
US Interstate 5 and Hwy 99
Coastal West Coast
Version 1, January 2025


Table of Contents
In Alphabetical Order
At the Edges of the West, Volume 2

A Fork in the Crypto Road

A Quacking Cacophony

A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies

Blooming Onions Pulled from the Mind-Ground

Chanting Canyon Streams

Depending on Everything

Electric Fatalities

Flowers in the Sky

Meditations on Time, Mind, Three and Me

    1. A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies

    2. Flowers in the Sky

    3 Recreate the Past

my lips turned to stones

On Not Resisting Temptations

Prime Your Mind with Some Guiding Rhymes

Recreate the Past

saghili pee keekwillie chuck

Seeing Both as One

Skeletons in Love

Spring Arrives in May

Stepping Over Epiphanies

The Illusions of Seven O'Clock

The Salmon are Back

the scissors of my decisions

The Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam
    qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas?

the tide comes in, the tide goes out
    saghili pee keekwillie chuck

Things Stick Tight

2+2=4: Now and Forever More

Ugh!

Uncle Mike Took Me to See Bruce Lee

Walnut Trees on a Winter Day

What To Do Alone in the Dark

Winter at the Door

Yellow Patty-Pans in the Pure Sunshine

Zebras and Zinnias

Table of Contents
In Order of Appearance in Volume 2
At the Edges of the West, Volume 2

The Raven Broke Open the Magical Clam
    qwaxwqx ?astaw s?axu tas?

Things Stick Tight

Winter at the Door

2+2=4: Now and Forever More

Chanting Canyon Streams

Electric Fatalities

Yellow Patty-Pans in the Pure Sunshine

Walnut Trees on a Winter Day

Skeletons in Love

The Illusions of Seven O'Clock

the tide comes in, the tide goes out
    saghili pee keekwillie chuck

Seeing Both as One

Uncle Mike Took Me to See Bruce Lee

A Quacking Cacophony

my lips turned to stones

The Salmon are Back

Blooming Onions Pulled from the Mind-Ground

A Fork in the Crypto Road

Prime Your Mind with Some Guiding Rhymes

Meditations on Time, Mind, Three and Me

    1. A Time of Dangling Dualistic Dichotomies

    2. Flowers in the Sky

    3 Recreate the Past

On Not Resisting Temptations

the scissors of my decisions

Depending on Everything

Stepping Over Epiphanies

Brief Biography of Michael P. Garofalo

Poetry by Michael P. Garofalo

Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series

Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems

Pulling Onions: Over 1,000 One-Liners

Green Way Research Subject Index

Cloud Hands Blog

Facebook

Four Days in Grayland

How to Live a Good Life

The Fireplace Records Koan Collection

The Spirit of Gardening

Concrete Poetry