Painter One With His Painting, Star Of David, Riven, Room, Good Tidings, Teaching Touch

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Jewish Teachers

 


 PAINTER ONE WITH HIS PAINTING

 

                 The painter's smock is daubed
                   with the pastels of his palate.
                 He has become one with his painting.
                 While his portrait is concentrated
                   and Virgo specific
                 his abstract smock is light-full pastels
                   and Pisces pacific.

 

Footnote: to Marvin Katz. fruitarian, philosophy teacher, one of 6

 professors of his university dept. fired for early opposition

 to the Vietnam War. He told me at a vigil against that

war that if I were opposed to violence I should begin with

my dinner plate. I was never able to tell him before he left for Chicago that after 6 months of resistance to

his advice I had finally stopped eating meat and fish.

The eggs left in 1970 after in making scrambled eggs for

the family, the skillet was full of beaks, claws and feathers from fertilized eggs. Finally in 1973 I gave up

milk chocolate.

*

ROOM


Said one:
There is no room
at the inn
no room for more
than two
upon the ark
no room there
no room here
no room in the heart

Said another:
There is not just 1 inn
but many mansions
infinite mansions
There is not just one ark
but fleets everywhere
There is room here
There is room there
There is room in all hearts.

(to Amos Oz and to JF)

*

TEACHING TOUCH


The only way to teach
is the heart to touch

(to Amos Oz)


(Course In Miracles: Teach only
love for that is what you are)


GOOD TIDINGS


all tides are
good tidings
to thirsty sands
upon the shore

*

RIVEN


Flake by flake
The snow drifts
pile swift
by the
wind driven

but springmelt
drop by drop
creates flow
and the remaining
flakes are
streamriven

One are the Gift
the Giver the Given

*

STAR OF DAVID


A jeweled whole
the
hexagonal flake
of snow
but God wants it
to melt and flow.
And Star of David
to see in each Godglow
and to merge with all
and grow.

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myrataal's picture

Oh how I love this poem! Observing the observer ... Myra