Peach Blossom (after Li Po)

Originally posted on O at the Edges:
Peach Blossom (after Li Po) Ask why I stay on the green mountain and I smile but do not answer; my heart rests. A peach blossom floats downstream – Heaven and earth, apart from this world. ? The transliteration on Chinese-poems.com is as follows: ? Ask me what…

Wood With Rabbit

married at the scar, two salve trees lean against each other, how we all learn to walk, watching feet trusting heads to sky silver leaves tip up for rain and beneath them, small boy rabbit frozen in prayer, down among fireweed, wild rose and stalks of tiger lily, velvet footed indian paintbrushes is that where…

Yevshan, a song goes on singing

now take the sage — yevshan — now breathe it in yevshan yevshan you call from it a story of your own people far away an eastern light, far grasslands yevshan yevshan yevshan your silver leaves bend shining slight arms embrace the wind your sharp breath breaks the bonds of winter roots endure and flourish…

Song of Praise (resung)

In Nass Valley, one shaft of sun lights two red and white toadstools in damp moss, luminous deeper in cathedral, wingéd ugly fungi, colours i wouldn’t admit there, i and all that i am, no less than the stinkhorn and oozing mud sing the brown and wrinkled, slick and loathsome, what i would not dare…

Spirit Mothering

  I was 23 when I met my spirit mother. I’d buried my father and my older brother, gone to university, gotten put on probation, answered an ad that seemed the answer to my prayer for something meaningful to do with that year, some path that mattered. The path led to Mexico, to a teaching…

This Cracked Violin

Consider a heart as this cracked violin this instrument of various parts does it matter where it’s from? Not descended from noble European houses, it has not played in Marseilles no craftsman in Italian baroque leaned close and breathed genius into the grain.   My fiddle is a metis fiddle but not Metis, not from Red River and…

Simple

Joy is the Simplest Form of Gratitude – Karl Barth   He has walked out now, into the night and the starfields, whose honest face shines as did his own. his long shadow slow voice, and devotion circled the pole-star of love, unwavering and if he did waver, and if he did tire then it…

1986: the stereo stand

it was 1986 and my brother had made a stereo stand it was crap, frankly, a cry of despair if you knew how to read such things, but i didn’t. we just liked having a stereo stand because of course, my sister had a stereo she also had me, and her old pal as room…

Fire Moon: Waiting for the Tide

listening to the radio, a mother telling of her son, calling the sun a fire moon. she speaks of driving through the burned city, where there were glowing trees that were coals themselves, still standing. our home is listed among havens for the homeless, and now we await the slowly gathering tide of people. many…

May 2: What if I Go Singing?

I live in an elm cathedral, where i live there is room for birds. Lady bees bustle rummage sale in the shrubberies all May long. Here, too, the song. I know what i must do, every day lift up the song, the old song, let it be heard here in these streets, let this cathedral…

Day 25: Smoothing the Spirit

old houses hold on. the first day i saw this house i knew it was my home, knew its many windows. its east facing door was the first thing i painted. upstairs, early on, we removed that beige broadloom peculiar to quick flips. such old wood in some rooms refinished, but under the carpet, a ruin, old…