Courting the Spark Inside the Earth


I’m courting the spark inside the earth

Beneath the carboniferous cairns of the glacial valley

Below the oceanic plains of heather, bog and bracken

Beneath the darkness of naiveté’s righteous impermeable thought

The surface image of our being folds in on itself in self prophesying


My eye resurrects the double helix propeller

From its tangled knot of primal needs supplanting our better

Serpent mind coiling over our calcified mirages

Carrying the weight of cold shadows

The winter eclipse satisfies itself

With our barnacle needs attached to the rusted hull


Ossified narcissistic consciousness

Erupting fissures of reality retreating

Space and time leaking itself to zero


I cannot forget my own death ghost story

In the nameless flowerless brambles

Covering the verdant queen of our souls

The smoky baptismal odes

Of spider crossing the heavens

Articulating what we don’t speak about

Or look at the burning Tao light

Needs the darkness for gnosis


Imprinted in our empty sky

The voice of seashells and burning flowers

The paradox of simple answers

In the conch ear primordial memory

Flying over the dead dwellings

In white winged V formations

I come from the crossroads of nowhere and everywhere

With the heraldic bones of swans for guidance

With their drumming sound of ancestral wisdom

Voices of expansion and contraction

Like lung like heart like pulse like universe

Life force of migrating generations

To the beckoning fields of grace


For the ancient grinding of corn I come

For my old word prisoners stay hungry


Hear this communing in the Sidhe inner circle

My ink scrawl divination of ritual words

Syntax summoned from compost decay

For the harvest I speak in palette knife

Into the blank field

For the extinct totemic and the present instant

The future already here now

In the passing bead way station of light

In the broken strand chaos of our time


Back and forth in the palindrome droning of my voice

Seeking with sound word and vision I scout

Far afield remote beyond the pumas

Scrambling over the bodies of flint knife minds

And through the spiral fractures of space

I still see our holy human print in the mud

Mended life growing beside it