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