Saint Julian Press, Inc.
  • Home
  • Dreaming My Animal Selves
  • Tiferet Talk Interviews
  • When Angels Are Born
  • Guest Authors I
    • Audrey Griffin>
      • Ode to the Dimmest Star
      • Ten
      • Lo
      • The Maze
    • Anne Tammel
    • Cindy Rinne>
      • Song
      • Airborne
      • Heaven Laughed
      • Contemplation of the Sea
      • Germinate
      • Intonation
    • Fred LaMotte>
      • Morning Meditation
      • DON’T BE SATISFIED TOO SOON
      • Silence
      • Wanderers Welcome
      • ANAHATTA
      • What Both Names Mean
    • Gayle J. Greenlea and Peter Shefler>
      • Gayle J. Greenlea - Wonderland
      • Gayle J. Greenlea - Chiaroscuro: Ode to Three Artists
    • Maria Elena B. Mahler>
      • Forever Ticket
      • A Voided Day
      • When the Nightingale no Longer Thrills our Veins
    • Susan Rogers>
      • The Origin is One
      • Kuan Yin
      • Awakening
    • George Jisho Robertson - Poetry>
      • passing moments [deceptive cadences]
      • veils of Persephone definitions of Demeter mysteries of Orpheus
      • Who Goes There
      • 3 Poems
    • Stephen Linsteadt>
      • Hoping Sartre Was Wrong
      • The Secret Language of Irises
      • Stinson Beach
      • Fisher of the Nile
    • Erica Lehrer>
      • Alchemy At Eight O'Clock
      • The Rio Frio
      • 1558.4
    • Taoli-Ambika Talwar & Ron Starbuck>
      • Voices I
      • Voices II
      • Voices III
      • Voices IV
      • Voices V
      • Voices VI
      • Voices VII
      • Voices VIII
    • Taoli-Ambika Talwar
    • Lois P. Jones and Peter Shefler
    • MaryAnn Fry>
      • The Space Between Notes
    • Garry Gilfoy>
      • The Watcher's Intervention - Keely's Story
  • Guest Authors II
    • Paula Dawn Lietz>
      • Fields of Yellow Fields of Gold
      • Mesmerized
      • Pixies and Petals
      • Spent Energy
      • Surrender
      • No Restrictions
      • The Saunter
      • The Surge
      • The Walk That Spoke
      • Your Existence
      • Your Name
    • Hélène Cardona and John FitzGerald >
      • Twenty-five and Breeze Rider
    • Peter Shefler>
      • The Japanese Red Maple I - The Seed
      • The Japanese Red Maple - Fallen In The Frost
      • The Japanese Red Maple III - Seeking Shelter
    • William Miller>
      • Maha ‘ulepu Arch
      • Made In China
      • Reading Cheese
    • Anna Yin - Poetry>
      • Our Feelings Are Like a House
      • Present Is Beyond
      • The Night Garden
      • The Robin
      • Falling into Pieces
      • Window and Mirror
    • Adele Kenny - Poetry
    • Melissa Studdard - Poetry
    • Ron Starbuck - Poetry>
      • Rumi
      • A Mockingbird's Song
      • There Are Times
      • Sandburg & Monroe (The Visit 1961)
      • Whenever You Watch Me
      • The Monarch
      • Austin David Meek
      • Park Avenue
      • Storm Shadow
      • Śūnyatā - Emptiness is Form; Form is Emptiness
      • there is something about being an episcopalian
    • T.S. Eliot - Burnt Norton - The Four Quartets
    • W.S. Merwin - Yesterday
    • W.B. Yeats - Recordings
    • Luke Storms
    • Tracy Cochran
    • Paul F. Knitter - Short Essay
    • Laurence Freeman - Meditation
    • Scott Painter - Homily
    • Carl Sandburg - Poetry>
      • Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind
    • Langston Hughes - Poetry for Black History Month
  • Interconnections
  • Writers and Books
  • Language of Poetry
  • Submissions
  • Literary Magazine
  • Our Directors
    • Gena Davis
    • Ken Jones
    • Ron Starbuck

Guest Author

Ron Starbuck - Author and Poet


                                                                                                There Are Times


Picture

 

There are times, when I cannot tell

the difference between you and me, of

us together. When I see the beauty of

 

the whole earth, because I see it

through your eyes. They are one and

the same, as if we live inside one another.

 

We are as one as waves of light are

one, reflecting off the snow whiteness

of a jasmine blossom in spring.

 

We are one as light enters and bends

inside the inner surface of our eyes,

revealing all the colors and images of life.

 

Flowing faster than light,

swift as a thought, becoming a vision

held inside our sight,

 

a single white jasmine

blooming with light

in our neighbor's garden.

 

Through this light, I see

myself reflected in you,

of us together.

 

When you breathe in, I must

in turn breathe out. When your

breath catches the sweet, enchanting

 

smell of jasmine, my breath

catches too. You are the first breath

that enters into me each morning,

 

before my eyes open to daylight to collect

and hold in that light, before the day takes

hold of us in its hallowed breathlessness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ron Starbuck

Copyright 2012

 

Web Hosting by IPOWER