Again, I rose early and walked in shale gorges both smooth and jagged, by the wild water and evergreens.  I moved through the day like an athlete though my feet are broken, my throat so sick of onions.

Again, I sense the presence of a bear, and wonder if that is your animal spirit – vast, warm, strong.  Steam rises from a bowl of soup, the wind sways the treetops, and I long for company.

Again, I long to burn, a flare in a dark wet cavern.  I long to illuminate, pluck at the beaded web, reach for a single strand of – not transcendence – something earthly, simple.  Fill my rib cage ordinarily, break my back over the knee of witnessing the world.


Here Comes The Now

It’s time to soften.  Time to thaw.  Time to cure what once was raw.

Empty bottles, woodstove clicking.  Big old dreams, little clock ticking.

Heart gone wild, brain churning.  Ice dissolving, fortunes turning.

Digging up weeds, inspecting dead roots.  Working up courage to take off my boots.

Sink your toes in the mud, your hands in the rot.  Here comes the Now, ready or not.