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“Our flesh and bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it, thrilling with the air and trees and streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun-a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal. Just now I can hardly conceive of any bodily condition dependant on food or breath anymore than ground or sky. How glorious a conversion, so complete and wholesome it is, scarce memory of old bondage days left as a standpoint to view it from! In this newness of life we seem to have been so always”-John Muir


in the valley of the lizards past the broken TV sets
a flower grows on top of a hill that’s never trampled yet

but the tread of tearing tires
and the smoke of leather fires
and the buzz of information in the air and in the wires

the sleepy old distraction of the glowing screen alone
under eyes of all the cameras you’re inclined to stay at home

and in a sweating shaking way it covers up my sight
and surrounds all with confusion in a greasy kind of light

the reveille blows
and everybody knows
but they still tell you
get up and start running
where the lily-wild grows
right under your nose
but I’ll still tell you
you better start looking.

the old face down decision, deciding to get up
or laying down defeated, befriend the chopping block

Now I will say it straightly so the message it is clear
we are like the silver birds in essence do appear

we are like the flightless birds in nature do abound
who’ve given up their soaring for security of ground

but the world is very long
security is short
the secret world is falling away, there's nothing left behind

the golden horn
the piebald one
coming in moon
coming in moon bullet and spoon

the burning grass
after the glass is covered in cracks
the dryest grass

never anymore


from Destroying, released March 10, 2015



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