From Rubble to the Great Within
Poems As Echoes & Embodiment
"The Boys of War" The boys of war are at it again transferring the 'epic fury' they feel toward their fathers onto others. The boys of war are at it again aiming the alienation they feel from women from Nature from Earth-rooted people from people wiser than they onto 'The Any' and 'The Other' who resemble anything different than they. The boys of war are at it again projecting their projectiles their hatreds displacing their loneliness so others will feel the same. The boys of war are always the same: bold and boisterous sending the sons and daughters of others into harm’s way yet not having the courage to truly face themselves in a room in the dark in a mirror night or day. All the tributaries of tragedy they spin up, and spin out, and send down the line for their children’s children to bear… …all because the the boys of war never received a true blessing from anyone leaving them incapable of doing the same. ______ "Settling of the Dust" Clearing away shit piles removing cupid's arrows falling silent. What now? Having become a hidden mountain, I am at the mercy of clouds and rain, shadows upon shadows, refractions within dreams. I cannot join the world of titles again. What would I call this human windsock being blown about by the Great Pattern? _____ "Outpost" The world is falling apart again slowly disassembling by unseen forces loud bombs of concussion ill intent strictures of choice, body, sovereignty. I awake to blue clouds rolling through tumbling waves of green far from choked cities far from bombs far from pits of hissing vipers. Spade pulled through soil as if combing an old woman's hair I just shake my head and plant more cucumbers for a simple Wayfarer's meal. _____
"Spring Breeze" - after Sister Chiyo, hermit-nun of Matto With a mischievous wink, Chiyo of Kaga fanned her sweating brow and giggled. "I went beyond the mountain hermits and immortals. I remained in the town and made my cloud paradise behind the brushwood gate ...but still close to the river of humanity." _____ "Inwardly Mobile" For years now, I've held a fantasy. I blame it all on Master Five Willows. Three or four acres. Woodland sanctuary. A clear flowing stream. A year-round garden. Fruit-bearing trees. A hermit hut. A tea pavilion with low-table for long study. A view: mountain cloud-forest horizon of hills unfurling meadows and fields. Rounding the bend on sixty, I still wade through the dust but more and more I dwell in the hermit hut found in the Great Within. _____ "Cosmic Chiropractic Adjustment" Sometimes just being aware of being-within-Being is enough to crack your back split your skull open to reveal the glowing mind-spark that's been there liberated all along. _____ "Coagulation of Territories" For years, a knotted skein. Different threads, each pulling in its own direction. At times, it felt akin to traveling through different provinces, or living in the encampments of very different tribes. Skein. True that it can mean a tangled, complicated arrangement; and there's always the risk of remaining coiled-up with one's smaller vision for oneself. But on a bright Autumn day, it can also all come together. Then the skein gets loosened out, becomes a V-shaped flock of geese moving toward the true weave of you. And the weave is glorious and strong. This is when the many worlds you have inhabited start to become one. Hexagram 64. An old Scots saying about Brighid and the fox tail on ice. A poem by Luo Hongxian the Cartographer walking barefoot through the amethyst forest. When you embody the way that is the 'way of you', your way and the Way of Heaven-and-Earth are in true accord. And that, fellow traveler, is felt within your own bloodstream. _____ “Tribute to the Sun” As the slanting sun turned Her shoulder toward Night I thought of Her many contributions made gone unnoticed by the masses. Infinite rivers of light cascading down renewing the land coiling around trees and sundials reflected in slow-flowing rivers children’s faces hummingbird eyes as they sip from blossoms. Across every domain there is, there are givers, there are takers, there are conscious, grateful receivers. _____ "Sage-ing" I know you won't believe me but there are men who are pregnant with river-dragons in their bellies. It is a ninety-year pregnancy.
© 2026 / Frank Inzan Owen / The Luminous Procession: Poems From Within and Beyond the World of Red Dust
soundworlds: “Confluence” / Endless River / Roy Mattson + “To Be Alive” / Meditations of the Cosmos / Billy Denk (Wayfarer Records)