Henry Oso Quintero

The Boom of Apache Good Luck in an Iron
Age: The Relative and the Ultimate
--For Khenpo Tsultim Rinpoche

 I.

Outside, the night is dark
Crickets bleat like dull knives
on whetstone

It is all a loosening static
A luminous silence
Before rising up to a full moon

II.

Spontaneously, humor has come
And egoless, it is beyond laughing
A void in essence
Just as the mica in sand
is caught by the lip of the tide and the sun
All at the same moment

III.

and being void
Cannot be grasped by the mind
Just as a great negative of earth and trees
Appears beneath my feet
A mirror reflection of the moon

IV.

Light passes through the window
Catching the hand settling the cup to the mouth

Great bliss arises
Turkeys, in a harem of hundreds
Ascend the lightning struck boughs of walnuts
Into the starry night
Their wings damarus
The sound of froth, hot tea brought past the lips

In the relative it is like a dream
And in the ultimate is emptiness

TABLE OF CONTENTS    NEXT PAGE