time goes anyway, whether you pursue your heart’s desire, or cram distraction down your throat this gift of a body, built to hold music, will resonate to all and any sound, so you have a choice step into the great song.
Tag: all my relations
camping in search of bears
there was bear poop at the foot of the ravine just by the trail full of berry husks, intriguing to the dogs. there was a cougar on victoria park golf course just below downtown that could put a hole in one. there was a lynx at rest in the legislature grounds approving the shape of…
Day 26: Back Space
rock and roll rides the back beat heavy two and four move it to the three, bring sun and southern oceans move it to the one, stop time, for the space it takes to lift your heart with eagles glide silk currents over continental song lines remember blue, as above where air becomes between, so…
On the Topic of Fishing*
Miss Manners is strangely quiet on the topic of fishing; she sits in meditation on the point where necessity goes to the highest bidder. All Life is sacred, her granny taught; so the fish is sacred as is the worm, as is her own belly, engine house of her soul. How to honour all this?…
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…
Worm Medicine
earthworm, indivisible one, you feed on smaller things what is dead, and what is rotting food of worms, no glory until above you, sky riots with beauty that feeds on your tiny work was it you? st. francis held in his hand, praying make me a channel of Your peace here, this reeking moment, break…
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…
Stable: Muzak vs. the Manger Song
So, “Christmas in the heart puts Christmas in the air.” WT Ellis* Sometimes it is just muzak. When that happens, commercialism is the heart of it. The best commercial Christmas can render is something vaguely performative, sour breathed and tiresome. A true performance connects to real need; and there is no real need for all…
Prairiepomes 