Jun 2013
I. The Search
Pack Light, A few days,
Some food Onions, Apples, a Raincoat
Drive till you reach dirt roads,
Take your time.
Pull over at all the rest stops
All the viewpoints.
Breathe the full bellied blues of our ceiling.
Taste the dirt,
Flavored like mother.
Pull back the sheets of sediment,
Such a well made bed.
Leave the car.
Find north.
Walk until your legs are tired,
Satisfied with their steps.
Don’t worry if the days slip away,
Take your time.
Pick a tree
An oak,
A maple,
A cedar.
A life
A fellow apostle of the sun.
Sit with your back to it.
Let it straighten your spine.
Let it tower above your like desire.
Spin it the only story you know by heart,
Whisper so soft the leaves listen,
Tell it so sweet the bark bends.
Fill its branches with your birth,
Water its roots with your memories,
And when there is nothing left but the leaves lullaby,
Ask for her forgiveness,
And level the head of your ax.
II. The Laying Down
Take your time.
Swing slow,
Heavy,
As deep as fear herself.
Chip away at a life,
This your one ******.
Your fatal burial brother,
Who will bear you as a keeper,
Down into the dark.
And when he is ready to lie down for you,
Do not yell timber.
Listen close, for in every trees last gasp she tells a secret.
A sacred promise,
A final prophesy of wind across leaf.
And when fallen silent,
No longer an apostle of sky
But a servant of earth.
Grant her a name.
Remove the bark,
Remember she is naked now
Be gentle, Though you will hear no cry
She is weeping in those last kisses of light.
III. The Carving
Cut two sections
Seven feet long,
Count the rings,
Take your time.
This is the slow part,
This is where the years gather.
Hollow them out so they fit together,
Like man and wife entangled for eternity,
Bound together simply,
Just a few pegs to hold them fast
Just enough room for a man to sleep
And forever dream in trunk of the descendants,
Of that first prophet to reach up to the heavens
And proclaim in many leaved tongues
The roaring ecstasy of existence.
Carry it back to the car.
Take your time.
Let it lay heavy on your back
Enjoy its weight,
It is still lighter then a mother’s tear
Still lighter then death.
When you get back to your bed
Back to your white washed ceiling
Climb into your casket
The last house you will call home.
Wear her as a witness to such a thin mortality
Count the rings
That have tallied
The dance of days
Across your skin
Remember her last words
Remember her prophesy
And in the morning polish her as smooth as the sun.
Bark Brother you have been singing
Long before we knew how to speak.
So bury me in your song,
Down in the dirt
Down in the darkness
We will make a fine duet.
Pack Light, A few days,
Some food Onions, Apples, a Raincoat
Drive till you reach dirt roads,
Take your time.
Pull over at all the rest stops
All the viewpoints.
Breathe the full bellied blues of our ceiling.
Taste the dirt,
Flavored like mother.
Pull back the sheets of sediment,
Such a well made bed.
Leave the car.
Find north.
Walk until your legs are tired,
Satisfied with their steps.
Don’t worry if the days slip away,
Take your time.
Pick a tree
An oak,
A maple,
A cedar.
A life
A fellow apostle of the sun.
Sit with your back to it.
Let it straighten your spine.
Let it tower above your like desire.
Spin it the only story you know by heart,
Whisper so soft the leaves listen,
Tell it so sweet the bark bends.
Fill its branches with your birth,
Water its roots with your memories,
And when there is nothing left but the leaves lullaby,
Ask for her forgiveness,
And level the head of your ax.
II. The Laying Down
Take your time.
Swing slow,
Heavy,
As deep as fear herself.
Chip away at a life,
This your one ******.
Your fatal burial brother,
Who will bear you as a keeper,
Down into the dark.
And when he is ready to lie down for you,
Do not yell timber.
Listen close, for in every trees last gasp she tells a secret.
A sacred promise,
A final prophesy of wind across leaf.
And when fallen silent,
No longer an apostle of sky
But a servant of earth.
Grant her a name.
Remove the bark,
Remember she is naked now
Be gentle, Though you will hear no cry
She is weeping in those last kisses of light.
III. The Carving
Cut two sections
Seven feet long,
Count the rings,
Take your time.
This is the slow part,
This is where the years gather.
Hollow them out so they fit together,
Like man and wife entangled for eternity,
Bound together simply,
Just a few pegs to hold them fast
Just enough room for a man to sleep
And forever dream in trunk of the descendants,
Of that first prophet to reach up to the heavens
And proclaim in many leaved tongues
The roaring ecstasy of existence.
Carry it back to the car.
Take your time.
Let it lay heavy on your back
Enjoy its weight,
It is still lighter then a mother’s tear
Still lighter then death.
When you get back to your bed
Back to your white washed ceiling
Climb into your casket
The last house you will call home.
Wear her as a witness to such a thin mortality
Count the rings
That have tallied
The dance of days
Across your skin
Remember her last words
Remember her prophesy
And in the morning polish her as smooth as the sun.
Bark Brother you have been singing
Long before we knew how to speak.
So bury me in your song,
Down in the dirt
Down in the darkness
We will make a fine duet.
