Moss Of Moonlight Zen
Estuary of fallen stars
Madrona swallows dark water.
We wear wreaths of lady fern
drink the changeling moonlight.
We burn our meditations on cedar skin
incense, the scent of camas
of moss like mist, glacier lilies.
The sun knows no answer
and longs for the earth.
The moon knows
her love for the sun.
Inhale the stars, exhale existence
the stars—of breath and cloud are born
the stars—restless elements they become.
Rivers tattooed beneath her skin, lotus in the mist
rain of his eyes and of his skin
fog from his lips.
Cyclic snake bites its tail
Ouroborus, Jörmungandr
seed to tree
leaf to rot
Ouroborus, Jörmungandr
The Morrígu and her ravens feast on prism-skinned
salmon
underworld in her eyes, in the frostbitten gaze of the
fallen.
