IMG_0789Baila, mi luna llena
llameando en el campo cósmico
En la mazmorra de la noche, baila
La danza lenta

Baila, a traves de mis venas vagabundas
Como carreteras de mi corazón

Caricia mi cuerpo con tu mejilla blanca
y transformame
con tu dolor precioso

Madure mi sangre siempre
para prepáreme por la lucha
y muéstrame la sombra de mi castillo viejo

Prestame el llanto lento de tus labios

Baila a traves de el callejón oscuro
de esta cielo
Reina de Mayo

Prestame los palmos de tus manos
y bailaramos a través de prado
de nuestros sueños

-Ryan Van Lenning


Dance, my full moon
flaming in the cosmic field

In the dungeon of the night, dance
the slow dance

Dance, through my vagabond veins
Like roads of my heart

Caress my body with your white cheek
and transform me
with your precious pain

Ripen my blood forever
in order to prepare me for the fight
and show me the shadow of my old castle

Lend me the slow lamento of your lips

Dance through the dark alley
of this sky
Queen of May

Lend me the palms of your hands
and let us dance through meadow
of our dreams



Sometimes Softly Over the Hills the Moon

full_moon_fractal_by_mps21877-d531g2rSometimes softly over the hills the moon
and sometimes through the pines the vernal wind

often in shapes infinite the clouds
and crowds of ladybugs and people too

daily over the horizon a sun
and under the ruppling creek the newt

and sometimes out of the branch a bud
and out of the well of his soul the man

and sometimes at dusk the dancing,
the people pretending to be coyotes
pretending to be the moon
pretending to be the human
pretending to be the dance

under the moon over the hills
through the silhouette of the pines in the clouds
at the center of the universe the belonging

sometimes with grace the coherence of things
where you find yourself

Eclipse of the Super Blue Blood Moon

super blue blood moonIn your uncanny orb of night, join these
Gathered ingredients of earth and sky,
Bold eremite of the winter season.
Blushing argent cheeks with ancient red wine
In the darkling hour of your silent
Transfiguration: Let the pot boil.

Hue with bodies heaving spells the spicy
Concatenation of your churning dish.

Accept the earthly shadow and resist not
The wondrous gravity of the moment.
With light and dark thy destined orbit’s marked.

Wax gibbous and grow a pregnant shaping
Of some image towards unfurled freedom

From that uncooked root called fear, a toxin
Spreading through the whole like soured liquid

And festering, sinks a sumptuous stew–
The more ingested, the more hunger too.

Now the lunatic transmutation made
Not by magic, nor with wand of wizard
But by channeled heat and moves cathartic.

Stir with patience the hearty blend within
Until all poison into sweetness changed.

Behold a new fruit, orb oracular!
Transliberating itself down the west
By and through and with that which holds it all.
A Peach, vigorous belly earthbound bent
And bruised. — Merely emblem of its ripeness.

Pluck it from the sky! Break your holy fast
With holy hunger and greet the dawn with
A wild and boisterous jubilance:
Sun in one hand, the moon in the other
With nectar dripping down your canny face.

Moon Shadows

IMG_6395Two little lunar poems inspired by our time last night hanging with the moon. I know these words are just fingers pointing, as Rumi said, yet the moon is pointing back.

Turns out we can’t
catch our moon shadows
even if we walk backwards
it follows us
So we play with them
forming hearts with our arms
as if to say:
you too are welcome here


this celestial theater
is good company

I feel in my bones
bonded to her
sitting far away
on the other side of the mountains
bathing in the same light tonight

And to you all
as if mesmerized by a campfire in the sky
remembering what it means
to belong and wonder
Finding our own pace

and to coyote
who at midnight sings his aria
so we join in the lunacy

and to sun
wanting to be with us so bad
reaches out across 93 million miles
and touches the skin of Sister Flower in the garden of the sky

on nights like this
when the moon comes out to play
Loneliness doesn’t exist

One Wild World of Belonging

IMG_6374Day 60, Experiment 124: Another evening in the forest, and a forest evening in me, the eternal song.

Sword ferns
slink into shadows
as the day descends
ducking away from the moon
making my tea taste
rather lunarly

It lingers
on my tongue
with sharp clarity

like the owls saluting
the darkness sinking
into insects serenading
bats 🦇
swimming on the wings of the evening
around the bay laurels,
lending their sweet breath
to the sunset symphony
speaking truth into
this one wild world
of belonging