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Sneak Peak of New Live Ecstatic Poetry album
"A Wheel of Deeds"
with Cello and World Percussion 

108 OathsEric Archer with Noah Hoffeld and Arjun Bruggeman
00:00 / 05:28

Listen to the entire new album here: A Wheel of Deeds

Mirror Contemplating Mirror
00:00 / 03:26

Mirror contemplating Mirror,

A snakeskin tied in knots, 

a gathering of heat, the scent of light


I cannot know every one of your faces, and I will 

In a moment silently sung twice over. 

There re-collecting reflections, re-practicing resurrection; 

No witness can confirm the practice, and I am. 

Over. Again. 

Chanting like water, dying like Spring 

A wild, flowering. 

for we have chosen to measure the present in pulses, folding 

the bottom of your soul is the threshold of the world, beholding

Each filling their cup beneath a waterfall 

praising the Land as Lord

The land speaks first. 

Today is not a word, it is an exclamation!

An in-struction

The fifth direction

Apprentices of the unmediated sky,

Know all else is a collective hunch.

The past in particles,

The future in waves

Old tomorrows remember we can’t be owned by our ways.


So be wary when you cast out your unknown that you do not 

Cast out the best that is within you 


Its soil of silence is alive

Speaking, of ears

Listening, in tongues 

The witness collapses 

Cannot re-schedule the sun.


So this must be the scaling down,

The quieting up. out. breath. 

Each shall know the practice of death 

The unswallowed secret. 

No word has touched it, no tongue soiled it

and yet you too have overheard your own truth 

Fallen alone in the forest with only the sound of trees listening, as proof

For no reason

For every reason 

where this air truly held our hearts, 

The new season,

For no witness can confirm the practice, 


I am. 

108 Oaths
00:00 / 03:30

I have taken 108 oaths of silence 

only to awaken in the night whispering a chorus 

of your names.


the hallowed drum beats the heart feet 


pulsing inside palms, 

open lines midwives to surrender. 


I don’t no, I must, yes

what do you understand of me?  

Teach me

name me,  

it will form thee 

from the sound, up 


as disciples of let,

prophets of breath,

no longer dependent on the dropping of diaphragms 

in debt.


So the chains are the key 

one note a symphony to seek 

a seed syllable re-seeds/cedes.


As the color of water, is the color of the vessel,

shape of the note, shape of the hollow; 




Catalogue the first one thousand ways 

to kneel and kiss the ground, 


for the beauty is in our choice 

how we seek to feel the same void

and I choose this noise 

I scream your names 

with your voice.


So can you let go of your past

all at once? 

no more game of the zero, summed

the closeness of the One

parentage of the Two 

pyramid of the Three

Fo(u)r we cannot be simply stuck 

in the body,

more is told,

the body is within the soul. 


at once. 

End for a Means
00:00 / 03:36

The candle’s wick was unbroken,


for the weight of holding anything 

in a hand. 

A bird,

a plane,

a pen,

o! pen 


Feathers falling through the night

with nowhere to fall to

and yet the earth still longs to hold them

longs to hold all.

The ultimate embrace, 

a duty de-served



the need to suspend the knowing.

There, everywhere is an everywhen; 

the plum as blossom 


As an 




for a means,


for a wing,

the mute can see, the blind can read

feel in the between

seed in the unseen 

as feeling into numbness 

it is the waking from this dream 

of light.


So the path remains


To return to.

No need to look too far forward

For the keeper of freedom

Is this step,

And it shall be our miracle.

For some would have our teachers stand on our shoulders

overburdened with versions of the past,

but the past is your memory

the future your dream

find us in the between

seed, in the unseen 

where this step instead ascends

on to the shoulders our teachers,

for their work was only so we may continue to weave

a new circle

To grow 

with time.

Where each will step out in turn and fall on their knees to worship

                 each other.


As an end,

for a means.

a feather, 

for a wing.

The mute can see, the blind can read;

feeling into numbness is the waking from this dream 

of light.

Eric’s spoken word poetry is a linguistic expression of his musical and artistic passions, and has flowered from his love of teaching meditation, exploring the question, “Where does guided meditation end, and spoken word poetry begin?” They are a form of extended Zen Koan crossed with confessions of faith and prophecy.  Through the use of imagery, self-inquiry, visualization, and metaphor, Eric guides listeners through an experience of collective in-sights, heartbeats, and felt breaths.  
Eric has shared his poetry in live music settings, festivals, and workshops in the U.S. and Europe, and is currently compiling his first recorded album/book of poetry.    
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