The Still Velocity

the north wind floods night
with snow and incantations
waking dark matter
from the silhouettes
of my eye's periphery
stalking through the bramble
and howling into the warrens
of my elemental self
one that waits between the dusk
of two worlds, on the parting lips
of languageless mantra
as the trees would speak
in the dialect of breathing rings
inscribed with the tomes of centuries
and their knowing, that in darkness we are discovered
as the night stirs our totem essence
mind boiled to its primal marrow
as the bear would see
as a jewel untarnished
by the oils of possession

night, where the clarity of life is rendered
through a sphere of curious
and off-kilter views
as a black & white photograph
in which the shades of gray
awaken eyes to the shock and boldness that is color
where the sway and sensuous urgency
of form and subject
can reveal themselves only
when caputured ususpecting
in a naked blush of frailty
and sudden moments of abandon
like the gracefulness in scars
and their wordless sermons
of recovery and healing
I learned the heat of touch in solace
and the spinning of the world 
as a body fixed within its motion 
I aspired to the weightlessness of eagles 
who taught that wings discover flight
when the reins of gravity are tested
by first entrusting toes to the balancing of air
and ascetic years of fasting
woke me to a millstone song
where hunger knows the whole of nourishment
but through the crushing of the grain
this within the living pulse
of journeying into the self
the thundering of silence
and all velocities of stillness

Reviews

[Vertigo]

the imagery is beautiful

[LR Young]

This:

"howling into the warrens
of my elemental self
one that waits between the dusk
of two worlds, on the parting lips
of languageless mantra
as the trees would speak
in the dialect of breathing rings "

is stunning. I love the idea of (essentially) parting the lips of the mantra