I return to the sea,
her face and tide
the peace of my heart,
the words of our story.
From far north
to the straits of de Fuca,
the inland passage
speaks in ancient voice,
braided with fog
and the cry of gulls.
Younger than we were
yet so much older,
I carve this message
by the light of the moon,
that you might find me
on your way home.
Reading of “As She Passes” with music by Claude Debussy.
Scratch a few notes in pencil,
erase and feed them to the fire.
With your soul at risk
what the fire burns is not your worry –
that is the closed room, the barred door,
the lock without a key.
The tide shifts and water rushes south.
Scribble your last pleas for freedom,
then give way to the moon.
Break down the door
and let the wild one go free,
if only for the morning.
photograph by Ann Foorman
Reading of “Give Way to the Moon” with music by Faces.
Comfortable in the dark waste
of twisted roots,
life broke the hardpan
forcing me to surface.
The morning light blinded,
a deafening sound of birds.
What to do in this madhouse
of awakening?
No return to the labyrinth,
no way down through the asphalt.
Nothing left but plum tree blossoms,
and the sounds of children.
Perhaps I’ve gone mad,
beyond all reason,
yet I open like dirt
to break out with flowers
trembling in spring glory.
photograph by Dennis Brown
Reading of “Trembling in Spring Glory” with music by Seu Jorge.
Suffer the windswept ocean,
the cold air and crested waves
on this patch of green.
An aquifer of imagination
lies underground in pools,
rising through the roots of trees
and the sound of orcas breathing.
Down in the dark water,
up into evergreen towers,
I mingle with the gods of earth and sea
and sing all praise to the rain-cast morning.
Reading of “Sing All Praise” with music by Seu Jorge.
When injuries of deception
corrupt the well, orchards shrivel,
and predators roam the streets.
Warm a cup of silence
on the fires of sacrifice;
empty the warehouse
of useless thought.
Stalking inner peace,
let fly the arrow of solitude
and devour the meat
of holy intention.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Devour the Meat” with music by Ahura.
Rain falls, layer upon layer,
soaking the spring earth
with wet desire.
She lies waiting
in her dark encampment,
for roots to sing,
her womb to open
to the passionate sun.
Let lightning strike our hearts,
the groaning of the land be heard.
The gathering of night
meets one bright star,
and beyond all belief
the cherry trees flower.
Reading of “Beyond All Belief” with music of Beethoven by Leonard Bernstein.
Why go on sleeping
when the sun breaks out
of night jail?
Light thunders, planets
and stars disappear;
the Earth wrapped in blue.
Prophets of old trembled
for this sight,
monarchs stole fortunes
yet wasted them in bed.
Get up, comrades,
join the posse!
The morning’s here,
and mighty horses await.
The one who desires sleep
is not your friend.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Join the Posse” with music by Jim Wilson.
Great beasts devour
the nourishment
where thought is born
on rivers of darkness.
Warriors of the slender arrow
thrive there in beauty,
and refuse the poison flower.
They map the Dog Star
in the night sky above
and the journey of Earth
through dark and light.
From above and below
wisdom guides them,
beyond broken forests
to the open savannas
of remembered green glory.
photograph by Willard Walch
Reading of “Remembered Green Glory” with music by Tinariwen.
After the storms pass
and the hungry ones
driven from their feed,
the humble will wait
in the calm sloughs
of spring beauty,
ready to rise
from the slack water
of mediocrity.
There you will find me
sore boned and broken,
returned from the
battlefields of poetry.
Then we will not speak
nor write a single word
for on that surging tide
silence will prevail.
photography by Kevin Daly
Reading of “Then We Will Not Speak” with music by Norm Smookler.
Don’t mistake the rain soaked valley
with hard paved streets,
people entranced by things.
Below the cracked sidewalks
roadside trees push out their roots,
thickening, lengthening
until with the strength of water
they shatter their carapace.
Beneath the concrete skin
arteries pump with life,
microbes teem and swirl
rebuilding the ancient city
with unseen magic.
Upside down the tree of life
grows into the earth,
spreading branches
and flowering the fruit
known long ago as knowledge
to rise in the mountains
and be read leaf by leaf
by the shaven monks
of eternity.
photograph by Dennis Brown
Reading of “Rebuilding the Ancient City” with music by Nicolas Jaar.
