Luv and LiberaXion

5414F941-0E9A-4D7C-A351-FA3BCCB7B68BYou just might get it,
though it won’t arrive like you expect it.

If you think you are tricking yourself,
it is only your wildness bootstrapping itself with a grin—your rabbit mind
cannot catch up

….with your ¡coyote-tortoise soul!

But be careful what you put on the calendar—the alerts will be sent out


If it’s a falling leaf you expect,
the tree will fall on your house.

If it’s a winter storm you see gathering on the horizon,
it may arrive as warm steady rain
pulling green from your land
like gravity from the heavens.

You may well try to grasp the sun—its rays will pour right through your hands
but may sneak into parts of you
about which you had long forgotten.

The Flashes Buried Here

2CC49FE5-E6ED-44F1-B17A-E0D70ED16A01There are flashes buried here
in the hot sand of this poem

Some are mirages
others are mirrors

Who put them there
is not for us to know

Some say it’s not a place
for people to dwell

but sometimes you must
cross the desert
to find your freedom sunrise

even though it’s been shining through that
ache within an ache
the whole time

If the rabbit has it
and the sagebrush is lush
and the moon shower
brings the cactus flower

you have no right
to just lie down
and bury your feet

What if the cactus
abandoned the moon
before it’s bloom had bloomed?

How would the bat makes his way?

So keep walking
Keep drinking in what feeds you
Keep gathering the shimmerings

buried beneath your feet

Some are mirages
some are mirrors
and some are red-hot miracles
awaiting the eye of your heart

The Nearby Faraway Day 365

E56199F5-46A8-4799-90E4-91C3ABAE6F4ENearby Faraway Day 365: Today marks one year of my experiment of living outside. When I went to the woods, I didn’t quite know what I was in for, nor that I was going for the long haul. It was as much out of expediency as experiment.

But then something happened—I started hearing things. I don’t mean in some woo-woo way, but rather hearing as in remembering, reconnecting, and realigning with the voice of the soul, of spirit, of the voices of the land. In the context of close living with nature through the seasons, I could hear my true voice, I could remember yes, this is our human birthright, I felt grounded and alive! I felt more creative, healthier, stronger. I felt a bigger self come online.

Then I made a commitment-I said I would apprentice myself to the land through the fall and winter. I would apprentice myself to the craft of poetry. And I would apprentice myself to sharing practices of reconnection with others who found their way to the threshold, as I called it. That is, the threshold between the city and wilderness, between their busy lives and the longing in their souls. This eventually became Wild Nature Heart which I started with my friend Katie.

And I did it! Through the autumn colors and dying back, through the cold and dark but green and rainy winter, until spring burst like a supernova of a thousand scents and colors. And I knew I couldn’t turn back. I had learned so much and found liberation in ways I could scarcely imagine a year ago.

The forest taught me, the muse taught me, my authentic self taught me-the alignment that occurs organically when one slows down and listens, and is not overwhelmed by the myriad voices, distractions, addictions of the dominant culture.

In the past year, I have stayed indoors for a total of only about 4-5 weeks, either house-sitting or visiting friends. Those times helped me in other ways, though I always felt the urge to return to my tent or open air, getting my fill of distraction and bad habits, and missing the fresh air, sunsets and sunrises, wild encounters, creativity, and sacred time that is now daily life.

So now on to year two of the experiment. And while it is uncertain what will unfold, it’s certain to be an adventure of learning and growth.

Declarations of InterDependence

july 4I loath this day, for so many reasons: the mindless sloganeering, the unfettered pseudo-patriotism walking arm and arm with uber-capitalism, forgetfulness, the proliferation of plastic, pollution, propaganda, meat, and noise.

I become depressed when I see how so many seem to be so caught in lies, illusion, fear, and shallowness, and I wonder how that can be…then I think, oh yeah, our state of the art schools and mass media systems. And all the wounds we inherit and continue to replicate.

But this year in particular seems abominable, with endless slogans of freedom ringing while the psychopaths in power lock up and traumatize those most vulnerable, for profit, power, and maintaining white supremacy. Though that’s been this country’s modus operandi for so long.

So I find myself trying to find a way to redeem this whitewashed holiday in my own way. I am reflecting on what values I hold dear and try to live into the world and what true commitment to them looks like, beyond symbolism, beyond reinforcing the cruel and unsustainable status quo.

I declare my independence from this culture—the shallow disconnected culture of greed and militarism and racism and incarceration and propaganda and distraction, that worships the new and shiny and possessions and sky gods and makes a fetish of celebrity and ‘power’ and ‘BIGGER’ and ignorance. that can’t help but bury its sins in forgetfulness. That refuses a mirror. Independence from the mindless, voracious devouring. this mania always for MORE. I’ve lost my appetite. a fast is overdue.

I declare my INTERdependence with my fellow creatures of the earth, my sacred biotic community, the winged ones and hooved ones and gilled ones and 4-leggeds and no-leggeds. I declare my COMPLETE dependence on healthy ecosystems, on clean air, clean food, clean soil, and clean water. I declare my non-compliance with the merchants of death and vendors of forgetfulness who unwittingly conspire to take from me/us everything i love.

I declare my non-compliance with any laws that are a violation of life or justice or reality. Such laws mean NOTHING to me. This may be a “nation of laws” (lol) but I follow my own moral compass.

I declare my INTERdependence with my community, both those with whom I live with and love, and those who I know in passing, and those far-flung citizens of the world who I will never know, yet with whom i am inextricably intertwined. No one and no thing is independent of its context or relationships. Everything is interconnected. I believe in co-liberation.

I don’t believe in imaginary borders.

I am a citizen of the world, a citizen of watershed, a citizen of bioregion, a citizen of the cosmos.

The Old Beauty Born of the Pulse

IMG_0645Do you believe in liberation?

Think about it hard.

No, don’t think at all. What shape do the lips of your fourth stomach make?

How you answer determines which direction
the face of your slippery heart turns
when the birds wake you from slumber

You don’t have to choose between the sky
and the dirt.

The green was built from sunlight for you.

Raven sits on the tree-top telling the other birds
and ground creatures when the stranger is approaching.

But the red-shouldered hawk above
cuts an arc of light
with his invisible scythe
catching the currents
telling the world there are no strangers

He IS the stranger to whom nothing is strange.

Those feathers that tickle your heart in the morning
are the same feathers that poke your eye out
when the black spot descends on your back
and the great scream is liberated from your warm body

They are the same feathers
you dip in the ink to write your life

They are the same feathers
that adorns the wild wings
of a surprised world
the ones it borrow to be the new beauty
which is the old beauty
born of the pulse.

The pulse in that fourth stomach of yours.

I Have Preferences

aphrodite“You can have your crossed-legged enlightenment
and sublime internal orgasms

All day long

I have preferences:

I want fingers in my hair
and light caresses across my inner thigh

Don’t tell me about equanimity
unless I can have a side of fire

Because cold liberation
bores me

Gimme the body and the mud
the purple-speared flower
and the kiss of the black butterfly

I have preferences:

I want to cum
and see the face of the gods
in my scream

If the price of attachment
Is a sharp hook in my heart
to another round
spinning through this crooked Layer

Then where’s my wallet?
I’ll gladly pay,”

She said with one big breath
while waiting for the light to change.