<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class="">Master <br class=""><br class=""><i class="">For Diane di Prima</i><br class=""><br class="">I.<br class=""><br class="">The Master spoke about love from the great, gray sky.<br class=""><br class="">Hatred from gnarled minds, steel, and straw.<br class=""><br class="">Pain that transforms like light in a cave.<br class=""><br class="">Spoke about joy, not to be trusted too long.<br class=""><br class="">Sadness from the broken wings of birds.<br class=""><br class="">Fear from the breaking earth.<br class=""><br class="">She spoke about guilt and despair from ego and smallness.<br class=""><br class="">Hope that comes from animals and stars.<br class=""><br class="">Wisdom from palimpsests, runes and bones.<br class=""><br class="">The Master spoke about conundrums that never give up, always there.<br class=""><br class="">She turned my mind inside out til nothing remained but tones and open spaces.<br class=""><br class=""><br class="">II.<br class=""><br class="">I left her home<br class=""><br class="">after two hours studying with her.<br class=""><br class="">Lost in San Francisco. Breathe.<br class=""><br class="">19th Ave traffic. Breathe.<br class=""><br class="">I knew a slowing down had to come<br class=""><br class="">but not the way it came,<br class=""><br class="">not sound that cut the night.<br class=""><br class=""><br class="">III.<br class=""><br class="">After three hours on 101, I thought<br class=""><br class="">I took back roads home, but didn't.<br class=""><br class="">Just thought I did.<br class=""><br class="">Because the car accident happened<br class=""><br class="">Highway 116 and Llano Road.<br class=""><br class="">I knew it wasn't just an accident<br class=""><br class="">that something huge<br class=""><br class="">had broken, not just my body.<br class=""><br class="">But my other self, the self that came from the sea.<br class=""><br class="">The self that came centuries ago.<br class=""><br class="">Something lost.<br class=""><br class="">Something crashed open,<br class=""><br class="">like a murdered doe under pines,<br class=""><br class="">her body pulled by roots<br class=""><br class="">speaking of the shining world below.<br class=""><br class="">The Master's voice, a waterfall.<div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Pamela Stone Singer</div></body></html>