Solstice

Red rain rising
Prisms in the sun
Bowing forward gently,
Ready for the run

A distance unimaginable
A length of life to come
To breathe this essence deeply
Reminds us where we’re from

Fountains pure and golden
Flows of time and truth
Our home is ever present;
The house is always You.

 

*

Happy Solstice friends ❤
May you feel the endless potentialities of life at your fingertips – golden extensions of sunlight that they are.

Circuitous

Destroyers, keepers
Kingdoms fall

We provide the tithe
Until we crawl

To cracks and crevasses
Deep and down

‘til brighter times
We suffer and drown

We assign and think
All things must collude

When on our knees
We should heed solitude

To wake from mirrors
Both past and present

But we stay and lay
And repeat, “never said it.”

Dismantled // Anointed

Wispy grey willows
Hang down from the stars

Ready to reclaim what
Once was now ours

Reaching and grasping
Down to our Earth

Whispering shadows
Of darkness and mirth

Enact into truth
Pushed out into light

We feel that something
Just isn’t quite right

Blessed to our people
We shake these lies down

And no longer perch
Upon Power’s great crown.

 

Intonation

Enshrined
Entombed
Inside the womb
I sputter and break the spell

It’s hard to say
It’s hard to stray
But I’ll try my damnedest to dwell

Outside my thoughts
Inside the swell
Of Being’s greater good

To practice
To be
To strictly not need
To stratify all that I could

I seek to wonder,
I search to seek
The trials and pathways ahead

I don’t want to despair
I want to repair
The damages here and unsaid

Stout and round
I speak and expound
The stillness that sits to stress

To ask
To sail
Upon the swales
A sweetness we’re yet to undress.

 

 

Cardinality

Starry folds
Hands entwine

Lightning burns
Time unwinds

Light years ahead –
See the curves!

Love the blisters
Twinge-ing nerves

Like a stone-man
From the ground

Like a pebble
Echoing sound

Dropped from my perch –
Way up high –

Falling, twisted
Through the sky

I know not where
The falling goes

But faith, have I
To touch my toes.

“Language-twisting-twisting”

Words are always following me. They hang above, trailing me wherever I go. Constantly composing, re-forming, re-stating. Once I have a moment of peace or silence, they flood me like the deluge…. An onslaught of compositions, essays, poetry, and random statements.

I am used to this constant internal narrative. It’s been there for me all along, so it’s all I know. Constant and normal. But I do have to work to keep it productive and not obsessive. Once I open the gates to the flood, it is hard to retain balance. To find the prior equilibrium. I’m working on it, but it is an ongoing battle. A battle I enjoy, really, so I am at least thankful for that!

The more I write these thoughts and think things out in words, the more I find it’s not really about the words at all. The individual words, meanings, or technical skill. It’s not even about the literal story. No… it’s really only about conveying a concept. Communicating a feeling. Incepting pictures to the hearts and minds of others and to myself. The words themselves are meaningless, but together with intention and imagination they create, transform, and build.

Feeling these concepts in my writing, spirited and soulful concepts, is the goal. I hope I am on the right track. It feels good, and moves me passionately, so I think I am stepping in the right direction. The pictures of the soul are so much more communicative than any human written piece could aspire to be. Transformative, intimate, touching. These pictures are the ones I reach for and hope to glimpse.

Amazonian shamans have a distinct relationship with words. They talk and describe their spiritual journeys and ayahuasca dreams in far-reaching metaphors that seem nonsensical to the outsider – but they make perfect sense to them. They tell us that this is the only way one can know the unknowable and examine the unseen. To get close. To glimpse.

They describe this as tsai yoshtoyoshto, which means “language-twisting-twisting.”

In his wonderfully readable memoir about his studies in the Peruvian jungle with indigenous peoples, The Cosmic Serpent, author and anthropologist Jeremy Narby posits why they must speak in twisted language – the “language that is double and wrapped around itself.” The shamans use their koshuiti, or particular song they sing, during their hallucination dreams in order to communicate with what they are seeing. They say:

“With my koshuiti I want to see – singing, I carefully examine things – twisted language brings me close but not too close – with normal words I would crash into things – with twisted ones I circle around them – I can see them clearly.”

Here, we could infer that normal language does not let us know these concepts adequately. We need the metaphoric meaning, as this is the only real way to see. Mental pictures cannot be described in mere words. They are concepts, feelings, pictures that reach beyond and within the self.

I have been writing my poetry stream-of-consciousness style for a while now, and I am only just grasping the pictures and concepts that it conveys to me. When I write, I try to let it flow unhindered, and it naturally comes out in rhyme. I’ve decided not to fight it – indeed, maybe rhyme is the best way of seeing the universe?

I will heed to the “language-twisting-twisting” as it shows me what I cannot see in this rationalistic, brain-based world. It shows me the language of the heart…in singsong.

*

I want to know, but feel unrest.
I want to formulate the best.
And so I must take my time…

Pyramids are built in rhyme.