The Wind Is Its Own Authority

IMG_7094Poor Grand Willow, beloved ol’ friend.

Have you ever tried to push the wind?

Wind is it’s own authority
bearing its gifts
with ferocity and tenderness
in equal measure

it may steal your house
no matter how many nails you own
it will pollinate your field
no matter how many fences you build
it will wrestle the strongest tree
to the earth
a regeneration
through destruction

it will lightly kiss your cheek
until you blush
regardless of how
you try to
turn away
bringing you
the vital living breath
of this wild gorgeous earth

learn this from the wind:

unchain your own voice
sing the song of the earth
be your own authority
take a breath
at your own pace
and give it back
to the Big Circulation


When Mud Was Our Friend

IMG_6992Remember when we used to run toward the rain

back when we were in love with the world
and it returned the favor?

when we couldn’t
let raindrops fall to the ground
without our tongues
getting in on the action

or pass a body of water
a pile of leaves
without jumping in

and mud was our friend?

and shin bruises
arms drawn with scratches
numb fingers from
staying out too long

were love bites from the world

and just the clouds in the sky
could evoke a song?

now, is it that our only sunset
is the one that’s a perfect 2×4
through the Device
with Valencia filter
that we heart?

our only storm the one
we can prepare for
adequately informed by the “they say-ers”
three days hence
so we can
take cover?

the only mud found
on our Goodyear tires?

no mud shalt touch thy feet!

I’ve heard that once in a while
a happy moon person comes
out to play in the sky

but to see her,
you have to put some things away

I don’t know if it’s true,
but I might
take a peek this month

I just might even try
to run towards some things

The First Syllable

IMG_6045In the middle of the forest
in the part
of the darkness
you ordinarily avoid
an old live oak lives
with limbs covered in lichen
–fern green, pumpkin orange, gold–
a cozy jacket ember warm

ki* has a name (See Note 1)
but it cannot be told

among the roots
a beating heart
within ki’s chambers
blood bright as stars
flowing beyond sight

within the blood
a flurry of birds
singing “Yes!” in all the languages–the first syllable

when a herd of deer steps out
of the bird’s mouth
you will peer into the buzzing light
of each other’s eyes

suddenly you know that they know
that they are you

and they will go back to grazing
and forgetful

as you will too

whose blood is it?
whose heart beats?
the Great Oak, the One Star, the Ancient Stone, the Blessed Dark, the One Beat, the Cosmic Eye?
Who knows?

the Great Circulation
on and on and on

Note (1): Ki is a proposed alternative pronoun by Robin Wall Kimmerer to refer to people of the earth, to avoid objectification that comes with using “it” in the English language. See her exposition in Yes Magazine or in her brilliant and beautiful book, Braiding Sweetgrass.

Your Darkness is Shining

IMG_6903I. soil

in humble black gold
like downtrodden lifting all
seeds dreaming green
sleep like sparks
in the womb of the dark

II. sky

in the longest night
when tulips aren’t even on the tip of a dream
cold creeps towards the center
of a hibernating winter heart
where a lowly sun is born
whispering secrets

III. silhouette

in the stretched pregnant hour
before the dance of the day
this hushed unrushed
unseen hanging chill
clings like damp cloak
skin tight on fog face hymn of owl
while stars sing soliloquies

IV. soul

in pitch black
sacred wound
that sharp deep ancient ache
your darkness shines
like gorgeous throbbing face
–a lighthouse calling
you to the shoreline
of homecoming