The Subtle Realms of Dietmar Tauchner

DT Rose

— haiku by Dietmar Tauchner

How can we experience some of the vast portion of reality that exists beyond mind and even beyond form? The haiku of Austrian poet Dietmar Tauchner seem to me like an excellent place to start.  Tauchner’s  poems feel like vibrational conversations with multidimensional reality and speak a language of the soul “which commonsense hesitates to confront ” (Gooding, Intro to Surrealist Games). And they exhibit some of the magic of the best haiku … they engage the heart, and they use language — the medium of the mind — to help redefine mind.

 

 

bullet train   the world    unformed

 

 

at the abyss
lilac scent
at the abyss

 

 

 

—  Dietmar Tauchner

 

What might we discover if we learn to open to more of the invisible and subtle energetic realms, as it is said that 94% of reality is currently unknown to us? Tauchner, who writes such deeply subtle and sensitive haiku in English even though his first language is German, may well be a step ahead of us in the journey.

 

What is the aroma of a poem?
          Something that is breathing me in

Question Dietmar Tauchner,  Answer Michelle Tennison (2017)

 

The Integrity of the Heart

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Opening Sunflower,  Michelle Tennison

 

What if we can feel our way through illusion with the integrity of the heart? Novel universes might be waiting there.

What does the heart see that the mind cannot?
          The aisle to eternity

Question Michelle Tennison,   Answer Dietmar Tauchner  (2017)

Beginning I’m a Slow Drifter

eye signed

I, the Language of Dreams, photograph by Michelle Tennison

What will you find if you write down the dialogue of your dreams?

The following are  excerpts from my own dreams, copied verbatim upon awakening. At the time I was experimenting with writing poetry during hypnogogic states. It has been said that such dreamspeak has something in common with schizophrenic language and can be meaningful in an abstruse way. It can also be quite comical.

Below you will find snippets from a pedantic conversation about sculpture (which at the time seemed quite erudite), proverbial wisdom, and surrealist poetry:

Upon viewing art in a museum setting:  “That’s a beautiful booger named gunshot.”

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Walk to the lake on your many-toed journey.

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dolls roll down in village trees

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kisses salt until the sea salt that led the sea

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beginning I’m a slow drifter

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beauty of 
the sunshine weight
of butterfly 8