prelude

CLIMBING SAN FELIPE ON KOL NIDRE



All this time carried away by words, carried away although
I wish to stay right where I am, carried away until I find that,
somehow, here is where I’ve ended up:

my doubts concerning whether or not this is the place.

Either way, River, it looks like you and I walk side by side
on this leg of the trail. As we near the waterfall

my forest breath begins to steam, and in a land of clouds
my footprint precedes me.
Each footstep is the wavering of vegetation in my wake,
the displacement of certain insects.

How is it that I can think I know what to expect,
do I find my own words so opaque?

Or is it that I suddenly find them so transparent?

I stop to read the topographical map of a solitary tree in the meadow.
Stripping off the bark reveals fire;
the combustion of organic matter into spiritual energy.

From the ashes grew a mushroom.