Nobody's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Tuesday, October 18, 2005


That warm winter light will forever be yours,
No less mysterious each time I wake to it,
No less suffused with a dreamlike sense of epiphany.

There are so many things to say, it would seem,
And just now I feel so very illiterate, so tongue-tied.
The lesson may be that enough has been said and that now is simply to do.

The high sweet sound of your laughter,
The paintings of green & gold & brown in your eyes,
Your touch delicate & bold & enlivened,
Your curiousity & wonder, with such calm sense of self--
To these things I can only return,
As to the perfect pool in the perfect clearing in the perfect wild,
Under a bewitching gypsy moon,
I will return and I will return,
Remarkably alive.