Methodical mysteries fill the
endless night with startlight,
firelight, sight, flight of
the planets turning. Winged mammals
emerge from their darkened daytime
haunted hollow roost; synchronized in
formation, migration of galaxies,
connection, speculation, revelation,
a dead sattelite’s reflection in a
still mountain pond, full pool;
still flowing, not knowing of
beauty or destruction, consumation,
Gravity leads the wayward water
downhill, soundlessly slipping past
gnawing beavers to the sea.
Turtles in the deep creeping,
rabbit on the shore nibbling,
owl on the prowl asking not why, but Who?
Concoctions of the mind bubble up,
blended beliefs, pureed practices,
psychedelic homogenization of culture and religion,
abstract reinvention of soulful activity
leads me from the bush to the shore,
to adore the breathe that fills me.
wylder chase 2002
A seed on the breeze
must land somewhere
in order to make a flower.
The wind must blow
through the limbs of the trees
to subtly show its power.
The rain must fall
down from the clouds
when the weight becomes a burden.
If the river is forced
to leave its course,
the sea it will still end up in.
wylder chase 2001-08
(sometimes they come a line a year)