SHAMELESS
Look at
the little show off
basking in the summer sun
legs all akimbo,
buttock and thighs
in full display.
She is utterly
shameless.
Her strong arms
buttress her back
and ample bosom.
And on top
of her broad shoulders
the head of a sphinx
fixes its riddled gaze
on any and all
who can see her.
The stump, once a regal
Redwood, is now
a bowl of sunlight
and wood caressed by centuries
of curious hands.
I desire to be the priestess
I see. To be ancient
and brazen.
Self-adoring,
self-celebrating.
Stillness in motion.
Epochs
of evolution
singing these wood bones
back to life
as voluptuous,
wild and mighty.
As Me.
*This poem was written in collaboration with Rose Bohn.
DROPS FROM THE CAULDRON*
Drink from a moonlit lake
the old stories, forests of reflected grief,
drowned banquets, and collapsed
bridges made of thorns.
Walk naked into a blizzard
with a stag at your back, bellowing.
Stop to watch a tree at sunrise breathe
on your way to a crossroads.
Bring a wolf to a kindergarten class,
witness it teaching the little ones
about the magic they will soon forget.
Then later, squabble with your brothers
and sisters at the lip of a great cauldron
about what’s needed to keep the brew boiling.
Add hardwood and your breath to the fire.
Do all this and a grain will grow
in the belly of a black hen
and lightning will flash in the eye of the mind
like a salmon brazenly crossing a fierce current.
In other words:
Marry yourself to myth.
Harness its energy.
If you choose this - and it is
a choice - you will have
the life you imagine.
*Inspired by Martin Shaw’s book,
A Branch from the Lightning Tree:
Ecstatic Myth and the Grace in Wilderness
