Friday, December 23, 2005

On the Table of the Gatekeeper

Here is the bloody business of killing...

From this:
to this:
to this:
to this:


At the Gate of Bones,
The Keeper carves his words out of the Flesh
of the Fugitive Gods,
Cutting to the Bone
Again and again,
Blood running through the ruts,
Heiroglyphs upon the Table,
The Altar of Sacred Violence...
The Heart of Religion.

The Birth of Tragedy.

[Middle English tragedie, from Old French, from Latin tragoedia, from Greek tragōidiā : tragos, goat + aoidē, ōidē, song.]

Old bluesmen,
Bent and broken over the Wheel,
Singing still, saying:
"As long you can sing about it,
It ain't that bad."

A life made just bearable enough to keep singing,
Standing knee deep in blood,
Surrounded by bones,
Watching the Keeper carve.
Waiting for the silence between screams
To sing again.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

An Entire Range of Experience Unmapped

Photo by S. Walsmith

All our heart's courage is the
echoing response to the
first call of Being which
gathers our thinking into the
play of the world.

In thinking all things
become solitary and slow.

Patience nurtures magnanimity.

He who thinks greatly must
err greatly.
- Heidegger, The Thinker as Poet

What runs through the cut woods?
Spirit through the Pages.

The Lake in East Texas.

Walking with God:
Fish Cleaner.

Catching Nothing.

The Little Things:
How to scale a fish.
How to cut the meat
Away from the bone.
What to do when
The two got mixed together.

And in those slow days...
Teaching me language,
Teaching me how to fish.

And to always remember
The Water.