Beyond the Horizon




The world is lit blue by the campfire of the sun

A glistening sanctuary

Filled with Ancient lyrical language

Uniting the four quarters of the world

The village of stars in our memories

Sometimes we’d travel beyond the horizon

Follow the solar wind to visit each other


The Sun King entreats us to be still now

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

Sound and beauty moves in the body

Seed of star dust entering the milky way

Disembodied voice cries from the cave

Deep in the bone


It is an art to remember the first word

Seeker 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

Emitting riddles of oracular power

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

Spills out bringing life to life each breath

Moving buds up through the stoned world tree

Pine cone falling echos and shadow rivulets

Cloud eagle moves behind the mountain and disappears

Lone cloud changing form a sheep drifting from the herd

It knows something the rest don’t know

Thinning stretching disappearing

Into the all mirrors presence


Reborn into other eternal forms

To know things then to unknow them again

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


Cast your net for the moon stories

They hover and turn swift

Conversing through the maidens 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




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