Long Drum of the Moon

Tassels from the long drum of the moon in windows of clay silence

I can make dreams feel themselves stay awake

Receive black stones to weigh me down into the past

Here now in this space between I polish them with buried tears

Beneath the earth of my chest unknown ciphers

Parchments of truth in flame diamond bones

Instant canyons of mood distant land of vaulted mind

Reeling the heart above the rain cloud

Axis of burning shadow tender shreds of dawn

Slight tearing in the beautiful harvest of awareness

Stories leak out of ancient energy wounds

Blood word vessels eaten by serpent incantations

I paint them into in the Cerulean Blue Hue

The thinnest tender branches have been on the longest journey

Fingers creating the future self before light was only memory

In the curvatures of crowded mind sentenced to a tangled word

I scratch my deer head into the earth into the nerve of a spider tree

I rattle my shaman stone eyes I travel long alone

Beneath the flint of my birch bark skin with silver eyes

Made beautiful in their reflection of you little star sisters

I want the night to stay in the communion of old rivers

Before they became rivers mud bank of eyes eyelash grasses

Lemon songs before the fruit tree blowing across the sea of time

I speak the unknown things for the dead to wake up

Birds who aren’t birds rocking the empty bird house

Empty caves whistling through oracle vehicle

A vine for your thirst I snake through your treetops

To your vision and sharing a harbinger a sacred pull a little poem
 

 

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