DEEP WINTER MOON OF BONE

910F6D74-2F81-456D-A384-6F6263C49294

Snow moon on wintry set
Banks aflood wide and wet

A boldly moon swollen so
From seed to see it grow

Cold moon and hung so low
Such slow and silent show

Moon of mood, moon of mud
Moon of bone and early buds
Marrow thick with lunar blood

Flowing like a winter stream
Glowing loud with winter dreams

I’M A DREAM YOU HAD UNDER THE FULL MOON

A6CB17EB-D049-4CE7-8CC0-7B261ED9DB6BI’m just a dream you had

A night your soul spent
with the trees
playing under the moon

I was the creek falling through you
so you could feel
your own flow

I became night
so you could share your darkness
and say the big secrets
out loud

and not merely have them echo
on the canyon walls

I was the uprooted tree
in the shape
of a falcon’s talon
for you to be caught and released

you slipped right between them

Oh, how good that felt—
it was all over your face

I was the path
for you to go ahead on

With eyes of night
I became the path ahead
to protect you from the Predator

I was the fallen redwood needle
growing from the middle
as my hands danced with yours
dancing with me being the needle

The old does not always fall away
before the new appears

I became the moon
and showed you half my face
so you could see your own

the half you want the world to see
is the half the world needs

The other half will be another dream

Not of me
But in being more you
by dreaming.

By dreaming my moon eye seeing you.

Me holding you. You holding yourself.

That feeling, a playful poem in the dirt.

That is all within you.

Don’t ask why or interpret it.

I’m what your soul is trying to be in the world.

I’m your blind-spot being seen.

I will come out and play
as your dream
whenever you need it.

That is what I do.

Until you find me in the bottom of your bones
as your truest image

When you don’t need to dream me anymore
you will wake up and find me gone.

Astonished, you will turn over
and embrace the love
that’s always been there.

#ryanvanlenning
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One of 75 poems in RE-MEMBERING: Poems of Earth & Soul. You can get Re-Membering and High-Cooing Through the Seasons: Haiku From the Forest through your local bookstore, on Amazon or Indiebound, Link in bio. My book of mystery poems, Silence Begins Here, book of love and erotic poetry, Wild Rose Hips, and Riverever will be out in 2020.

SOME PACE WITH PEACE POURED INTO IT

3BEB20AB-3C3A-4C4F-A24C-E353547648AA.jpegHarbor buoys bugle
the sun to sleep
and wake the moon from her eastern slumber—
a changing of the guard

As the waves beat that old song
at the foot of our rock
curling the dark into itself

The syllables of the sea’s
vast rhythm confounds

But up here, the moon speaks clearly
and follows us
no matter how well we hide

And we like it that way.

Restoring some pace
with peace poured into it
like the light shimmering down
on the season’s cool waters

THE WIDEST HUES

6116B67D-C45B-408C-A274-7A15369D8AB0A Vision, seeing as much
with my feet
and my stomach pulling me up
the fickle hill
and over

While the web is weaving split infinity, each to each
I see what wrecks and wings await
at every step
well-absorbing me as much
as I absorb them

When Goodfellow hermit thrush,
that Grand Inquisitor, invites:

Have the exquisite marks formed upon you yet? No?

Then keep opening—
strive ye with death
and moonly silence

Not beyond despair,
but spanning both dark
and bright buffet

Form and fill
your unique dimensions, earthedly

stretched just so taut
and ache
the good ache, Dyeing
yourself in the widest hues

—Ryan Van Lenning

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You can get my books RE-MEMBERING: Poems of Earth & Soul, and High-Cooing Through the Seasons: Haiku From the Forest through your local bookstore, on Amazon or Indiebound, Link in bio. My book of mystical poems, Silence Begins Here, and book of love and erotic poetry, Wild Rose Hips, will be out later this year. Follow me @ryanreturntotheearth for ecosensual mythopoetic inspiration and @wildnatureheartfor my heart-centered nature connection & 1-on-1 inner/outer wilderness work.

 

What Song-Basket Could Contain It All?

813C373D-83A2-4468-B069-BB7109199D75What they call love,
I call the wings of a tree
the sand-song of a river beach
multiplied by spring
divided by day and night.

So why don’t I want to resolve
among the 1-4-5-1?

What works works.

Yet I loiter on the 8th fret
looking downstream toward
the common chords
where all the meandering noodles
end up in time,
that great pincer.

Umbilical whoosh and porous I,
out of near storm fuse and fury
harvest all the inborn plenitude
to solo note upon note
while this stalking moon wanes
and waxes wise reciting
Heraclitus as her bloody comrade.

Filled, I want to spill the fullness
into the sky
and her heart
despite myself.

What chord can resolve it?
What song-basket could possibly contain it all?

—Ryan Van Lenning
————————————————————————————-
You can get my books RE-MEMBERING: Poems of Earth & Soul, and High-Cooing Through the Seasons: Haiku From the Forest through your local bookstore, on Amazon or Indiebound, Link in bio. My book of mystical poems, Silence Begins Here, and book of love and erotic poetry, Wild Rose Hips, will be out later this year. Follow me @ryanreturntotheearth for ecosensual mythopoetic inspiration and @wildnatureheartfor my heart-centered nature connection & 1-on-1 inner/outer wilderness work.

Eclipse

In 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.