Hooded Crow Incantation; harbinger of wonder and conjuration

white shaman

Hooded crow roosts on my collar bone

Exhales her turquoise fire of life’s blood

Terra’s white smoke spires with stained glass windows

Revealing the split body of the earth

A conjuring “To see inside yourself

Is to see the spinning colors of unseen horizons

A spindle weave across the faded land

looking to thread new life”

Speaks in myriad tongue gesticulates

With long black winged fingers

Swirling air with mantic dirge and affretando

“If you don’t know yourself in life death syncopation

You don’t know the world’s dissolution and animation”

For some I’m a riddle without a sage tarrying in the vaporous

For others I’m the magnitude of another dying age

 

My shoulder blade appendage cast my wing shadows ahead of me

To see my blue metallic existence turn green when looking down

With my aerial vantage to the images of your inner thoughts

“You have thrown your shadows behind you into the cliff face

Hid them in the dark crags where they are buffeted in the winds

of retreat and separation”

“They are broken mirror shards milled in the old human maps

that keep depleting.  Sunk deep into our skeletal underground

Our dead cosmologies compost”

 

This is the remaining moment of my voice

To see your shadow before you

In the poisoned tumult of your inner earth

Puppet theater of a corrupt governing body

 

This is the remaining juncture to take the initiatic descent

Into the ancient backbeat paradox

Of moving backwards to move forward

With indwelling death song lament

Coronach venom to cure the deep cracked tongue

Of the rotted pine box

Leaking its sap wound into your scattered clouds

Deluded consciousness in the thinning mask silhouette

 

Find in yourself a wise fool wanderer without clever answers

Dine in the food hall of earth’s sacred stories

I coo caw rattle and click for you to pick the ripeness beneath the skin

Before it turns in the raucous din

In the coyotes den with bitter herbs to administer

Desert holy clown with juniper eyes and tobacco breath

With half moon ritual of worn rag offerings

To the ragged past and mystery present

In this frozen snake egg of the underworld

Where you can warm and shed the skin cells

Of your underbelly where chaos reins

In the village of old sorrows

In the Bedouin tent flap flapping its dusty rhythm

To the gravity changing its magnetic direction

As the lunar midwife passes your smoke filled rain of insanity

Your comets and burnt out stars

Your hobbled and snared dead deer and seals

Set free with her holy moon

Patient touch sputtering

Through the umbilical the pine resin aflame

Tendrils quickening out of the coffin

With tricksters keeping you from moving too fast

Through the tree of life and its myriad branches

Growing your inner expanding rings

Your poetry fertilizer words for the prairie dogs

To turn the dust storm around

Your nautilus shell utterance

To call forth the altar of primordial memory

Hooded Crow words whispering the stanzas of beauty

Sending starfish drifting through the undulating kelp forest

The blue print of the yearning and sated heart

With its medicinal honey dripping into the extinction

Of outsiders outcasts and healers

Drips into the oceanic garden womb

Reseeding awakening into the terraqueous wisdom

Our indigenous voice and vision in this ice age

Already written inside us in minerals and frost stars

In the salmon script moving up river

In the deities calendar murmuring in your ear

The hooded crow perched outside your door

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