Notes From a Psychopomp


crossing over painting

The air breathes

And the air speaks to itself

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 our 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 the sky

In 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

In the watery membrane between worlds

I have been made a window

Of the vascular truth

A dancer who hears your song

Moves along your inner thread

With sky spirits dancing

These shadows into the ground

Talk and persuade in sound and beauty

Keep our birds in the sky

The colors you have grown

Our prayers in a bundle

Ritual speech fires

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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