Notes From a Psychopomp

 

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The air breathes
And the air speaks to itself
In ritual speech
One word can change you into a spring rain
Furnish you a flower for a swift life
Or a long oak belly down on the earth
Bleeding into it with fertile wounds
Passing without foothold
Through shifting realities
Tethered clouds to the soul
Between each barb on the wire
Enough room to bend your way out
What keeps you in what keeps you out
I paddle across streams of consciousness
Where light and shadow swim
Where the dark ones in dream time
Hunt for the soul’s unconscious
Drowned in the deep sea of memory and storm
A vermilion scrap heap of captains
Capsized in the blood
I have been made a porthole
In the watery membrane between worlds
A dancer who hears your vascular song
Stepping along the inner threads
Persuade in sound and beauty
Your shadows into the ground
To keep your birds in the sky
The colors you have grown
Prayers in a bundle
Of stone and earth and moving sky
The starry course for the lost and dead
Roaming this world and the other
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Silence where the story begins again

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Take this horse tooth and deer antler

Into your brimming magnified eye

This moth of the long moonless night

Take these haunted voices, hungry, half alive

Some your own, lonely for the wind to talk to

Through watery eyes this wasp

This strange colorful bird

Sounds and creatures of the first word

All these layers that fleshed you up

A teeming universe inside that dies

Destroys, creates, restores

Scintillating thoughts bound into the mirror

So there’s no mistaking your names, identities

Changing a thousand times in the great circle

Gateways you pass through to the mirror of the all

With your life giving tears, sacrificial thrones

Fermentation of the soul

For the holy indelible earth I speak

Earth is my speech from darkness and light

I am a thorn on a flower, a storm on the deep sea

A restless wind grazing the mountains

A voice that gathers smoothing and rounding

thousands of voices at the same sea

All I was and all I’ll be

A horizon that burns, I have set sail

A fish who has been inside the whale

A dog bark, a fleck of mica

A horse print in the mud, filled with pine pollen

I do not answer to time, bend in the wind

A galaxy hurling it’s dying light into the flawed heart

Human frailty, ceaseless tears in an avalanche of truth

Breaking all numbed peaceful feelings

Silences where the story begins again

Running sweat on the mountains backbone

Precarious stone ridge where the flowers grow

Dreams through the old wood rafters

Beams of dust, shadow and cobweb

Light slides through slats into hot nails, clouded glass

We built ancient abandonment, stored the unused

Until it was time to move the wound

Through the prism of the prison into mystery

Coyote rattle maker, rogue tongued, bending bird song

The arcing jolt of heart for the fallen one

Who knows the valleys crop, the cast of shadow

Ghosts who had their original stories taken away

What doesn’t fly is now flying, hooves in the wind

Bellowing the heart in the skies syntax

The sun and moon chasing each other in love

The eye within the eye seeing the stone inscribed

Creation of a holy world, hears weaving drum medicine

pulsing the land – medicine to the soul

 

Beyond the Horizon

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The world is a blue lit campfire of the sun
A glistening sanctuary washing away shadows
Filled with Ancient lyrical language uniting
The four quarters of the world
We follow the solar wind to visit each other
Sometimes we’d travel beyond the horizon
The village of stars in our memories
The Sun King entreats us to be still now
For his confluence of penetrating power
Flood ins to what needs feeding
Beneath the solidified shadow
Of the world tree I sit rooted
Wait for the first word to come
With sound and beauty it moves in the body
Seeds of star dust entering the milky way
Disembodied voice cries in a cave
Deep in the bone
It is an art to remember the first word
Seekers of the meteoric utterance
Abiding the ancient contract to the deep and elevated places
Immutable star collisions and super novae
Tilt my ears to the lantern of wandering stars.
The riddle of oracular powers.
The unfinished poetry of the elders piercing dream instruction.
Divining with compressed seeds of primordial memory.
I am flint firing the spirit alive.
The shaped holy bundle of my life.
Bringing life to life each breath.
Moving flowers through the stoning of the world tree
Pine cone falling echos and shadow rivulets
The air moves unseen changing form
Cloud eagle moves behind the mountain and disappears
Lone cloud a sheep drifting from the herd
It knows something the rest don’t know
Thinning stretching disappearing
Into the all
We in the same mirror presence
Reborn into other eternal forms
We come to know things then unknow them
The road beckons obsidian death quartz healing
Beyond the cusp of the trimmed hedge
Jagged mountain ridge lures
Northwest cloud forms in a claddagh ring
Shape-shifts into a crowned winged spirit
Moves towards me then back
Into a nebulous cloud
Shadow, wind, rustle of dry grass
Drone of bees, eddies, bird song
Everything has a soul
If you don’t sow in this garden
The seeds inside you will rot
Passing on the edge of awareness
Do not be a ghost in this world
For you can be a ghost in the next
If the days growling keeps you in its chair
Stir the compost for what lies dormant
The tendril green will pass through
A hole in the middle of things
You have to turn your life inside out
Find another way around
To the Whole in the middle of things
For some slowing winter compost is pregnancy
A propelling energy into soul work
Through nest and incubation a birth from darkness
Lying on the flowered ground
Helps me be many animals
To know animals is to know how to grow
After falling into the horses eye
I found myself to be a child of many worlds
They move through me joining different parts of me
There are things that happen to us
Only soaring birds in the clear sky know and feel
Love will be known by the pollinators
Without reciprocity within the big relationship
There’s no sustainable harvest
Good luck on what school you’ll be going to next
The sun splinters when the rain falls upwards
Know that everything is undone
For the making purpose
I broke my fingers once
But they still point the way
If painful silence brought me here
Silence must of beckoned my presence
Rain on wings should be gentle and wild
As we should be
Casting our net
For the moon stories
Hover and turn swift
Conversing through the veil
Scrying the movement of the spheres
I am closer to the death of this world
One foot more in the other
But know all that is holy is here
And death is a flowering time
When I am dead my words will remain
Attached to tender branches
When you dip underneath and feel them
Their poetry will live inside your skin
If you know what this means
You are moving the dream along
You are already closer to home