Ghost Salmon
When the salmon come back
the rivers dreams of itself in peace.
Heart throb, silver scale, and muscle
be personified in fish.
I die when mighty Chinook
gut bust themselves
in spawning cycle,
bruising going upstream.
I shiver when they charge
the waterfall,
waves of oxygenated water
punishing their spirit
and black unrelenting rocks.
They don’t complain;
mindless passion can save
from extinction.
O the losses will be terrible,
O the losses will be terrible,
but what’s worse
than
asphyxiation forever.
When the salmon come back,
we will grow strong again.
Walt Curtis
Nov 2 1985
All Souls Day
-El Girasol Despierto-
Me gusta ver la realidad vestida de sueño, de emociones, de color, de sentimiento.. Me gusta verla también tal y como es; desnuda y sin ropa, como un girasol despierto.
LLeno de luz y color, mecido por la vespertina brisa que silenciosa pasa y acaricia tus pétalos .
Deja que abrace tu cuerpo y que me llene de tu sentimiento; altivo, enhiesto, cumbre coronada, halo dorado. Suave vaivén.
Cautivador maestro de las antiguas nimfas que llegan a libar tu elixir y a hacer de tu ambrosia la más dulce alquimia.
Néctar de hechizante amor, de suaves y cálidos labios de miel que se funden en un ancestral beso, el beso de los enamorados .
Sabrina Guitart
Careening Toward a Happy Death
The Taoist master, Wing Chow Mein,
intuited the highest aspiration
of an enlightened soul
is to die contented. Happy
with his miserable life, happy
with his benevolent death!
Smiling in bliss at re-entry
into eternity. What a lark!
Is the trip to the Spirit Land
an astronomic experience
in outer space? or inner vision?
He , our side-splitting sage,
doesn´t know until it proceeds.
I believe transition is more like
swimming naked in a summer´s
green river, The tallest
snow-capped peaks represent
ancient seers, wise ones
from geologic time. Our body
merges with the water. Vehicle
which makes us one, in our
blood and up Dirt Creek.
Carried on the stream of the Tao
we know the way to the Jade Garden.
Without comprehending in an
empty head. Joyous knowledge of
the journey sings us toward the Source
along the stop of re-birth and death.
O bliss, o god, I flop on my
death-bed dead-drunk!
Been sleeping and dreaming for
a million years. Incarnate
this time around, I careen
wistfully forward and blissfully
to what end only the Tao knows.
My hexagram of dipsydoodle,
just having tossed the bones
of my ancestors--is a message
from phoenix eternity.
Oh swell! Cracked tortoise
shell of divination, inebriate
way station. I-Ching of divine folly!
Damnit, bring me another beer
before I fall down the star stairs
and kiss the pretty moon in Silvery
Lake, before my liver bursts
with happiness. Li Po, you know
what I mean! Wine is divine!
The river of Heaven awaits me.
W.C Nov.7 03 full moon