In The House Of Bear

Holy Bear Shapes the World

In the bear house

You forget your name

Returning to infant memory

Oceanic sound salmon undulates

Swollen river tongue

Of hive, hunting winds and antlers

Of living inside the earth

Incubating your primal self

Dream of rolling in sunlit lupine

Berry smeared sniffing

For the scurry and honey

The speech of rogue fires

Smoke from the crackling deep womb

Of the life and death mother

Big boned ramble to herd the cubs

A life well traveled

Inside the fur of another

Vowels the sound of tree roots growing

Sped up and recorded

Sapling whip back in passing

Is the consonant breathing

Ribs of a viking boat

Heart in Valhalla

Bear’s raven bears the crazy news

Breaking pines

A hunger that won’t relax

Ghost people eating all the flowers

Coyote and wolf retreat into petroglyphs

Damp cave walls

A musky smell

Covers the ancient tracks

To Ursa Major

I’m a myth now

She thinks and laughs

A star-studded –

Telescopic tethered –

Circus bear –

Mud matted starlight

Recycles herself

Penetrates our souls and dreams in

Iron Carbon helium

Hydrogen oxygen

Breathe her light

In the darkness

 

Foraging For The Light

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Between these aging words

Try gathering energy

From a forest that has disappeared

Keep whittling down

Your threadbare thoughts

Into the earth weep

 

River coursing erratic platelets

Demanding cracks in our stone truth

In the pores of her voice

The rain keeps raining

Distilling music out of silence

 

Between these margins of empty time

Nebulous cloud distractions

Underworld time deposits

Pumiced stars in the bird spell

The bird in us might erase its trail

 

Or swim the umbilical back to our mother

Back to her mother and her mothers mother

Without cloud or whirlwind in our stories

On the path to song in the bear silence

In the bear silence in the fur

Foraging for the light

Beneath our feet and claws

Risen Inside our heart

Where it weeps sighs and sings

Bones Of Your Mother

Marry to me a drone of bees over my body

A returning river of indigenous tongues

Drumming and dreaming on the mountain

A skein of songs floating on the abyss

Sonorous last cry lost language of our earth

Blanched continents adrift

Old watchtower eyes watch the world float away

Dreams perforated by dark glaciers

There’s a storm and pensive moon inside me

A horse tail moving wind into bone memory

A rough draft of my many lives floundered and jeweled

With stone fingers in the shifting sea

Gull shakes water from my wings

For the tide pools of consciousness at the edges of the soul

I build a hut for the deep sanctum of silence

To live inside with hives, skeps, and bells of fire

For the library of souls living in their own hell

Skeletons living above their bodies

I bring you seaward

With your stone pennies for insatiable hunger

With your masked delusions

Far from the green bones of your mother

Shadow of crows across our breath

Let me bring you new tattooed stories

Across your calcified cage

With my animal body I meet a spider

Inside a hollow sheep bone

I find the medicine you need to weave

Yourself into another

Dream of the Cailleach & the Otherworld

Crowspells best P1000462

I had a dream of a Cailleach who lured me over to her woodland cottage where Fey creatures lingered about.  (Two giant Groundhog looking creatures were her allies, these were mischievous creatures towering upright, one of these creatures snatched her flowers from outside the cottage and voraciously started munching on them as she shook her cane yelling. Then she started laughing at the sight of it running away to the forest while manically eating.  As I just stood there watching this in wonder, the old woman turned and walked up to me.  “At first I thought you were one of us.”  She said.

She got me to walk with her, and started describing who I was – as she knew me deeply.  While she was talking, something made me look up and I watched thousands of falling leaves from gently swaying trees, in a strange watery, but light filled sky.  (It was not raining, but was similar to seeing through water.)  It was incredibly beautiful and I was moved deeply to tears trying to describe it.

I then heard a sound like an angelic choir, but not.  It too was otherworldly like what I was seeing.  The sound was profound beauty and the beauty was sound, they were one.  And the beauty/sound was nature and the nature sound was divine.  I tried matching my voice to what I was hearing and seeing to integrate into this wholeness.

(The painting above acted as a harbinger to the dream)

Where heaven and earth meet,
Where we are “in the world, but not of the world”
a divine presence informs our multiplicity of being – inside and out…
With strength, grace and steadfast integrity
let us commune with the spirits, the ancestors and deities
in a tireless Call and Response.
Let us sound out, express our true natural creative fire.
Let us dance with lightning and muse with the sun
ignite the world with loving beauty and passion
so that we merge with our divine inheritance
and let the rhythms and cycles of our honored earth inform who we are…

 

The Silencing

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This silencing

Sojourn of the panthers gait

Scratching the moon hollows

This silencing of the knife

Of technology flayed open in public

Souls that left their bodies

Keepers of caged light

With imaginary trophies

Penciled in dreams

No one saw the underworld rise

Rabid for the unconscious

Ranting from their shadows

Shriveling life with self indulgence

Others worked medicine into their shadows

Found their relationship with roots and leaves

With the priest of pollen and beetles

The scholar of driftwood

Briars before the blood

Staking out a claim

Crow robbers laughing

In a vortex of wind

Thudding beat of wings

Across our bodies

Scree sliding for those who would not weep

To let water go from their clouds

So flowers would not grow or show their color

Words and thinking were vacant

Tired pain waited idle

Passing camps of nomadic truth

Bridges of silence supported by sound

Structures of peace devoid of form

Numbers that wouldn’t add up, subtract or divide

Cycles of time that lost their way

The multitudes making noises with their mouths

No longer coherent but proud

Proud shadows

A longing sun

Overworked flowers

Prayers that would change

With the new reality thrust upon it

Clouds cooked

The continental shelf stretched into archipelago

Into coral dropping off into abyss

Nature would not conform

We would not conform to it

Unwilling to sacrifice for the better

We held our precious comfort of things

While our light was leaking

Light was leaking from a nebulous moon

The humus of night dream

Between each color of the artist

Another color was growing

A presence stretching across the skin

A glacier of beauty across the briny water

Earth shakes moving her arm around

What did not love her

The bone setters come with their whistling

Offerings of yellow roses

A calling of song bird through the dancing pine

Natures confluence through the unfiltered senses

Past the darkness of fear

Teeming with life in the deep

Sanctum of the soul

A sacrifice for what is sacred

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

 

 

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