"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

18 April 2017


Paygnard, Le Balayeur, 1976


Squat in swamp shadows.
mosquitoes sting;
high light in cedar above.
Crouched in a dry vain frame
-- thirst for cold snow
-- green slime of bone marrow
Seawater fills each eye
Quivering in nerve and muscle
Hung in the pelvic cradle
Bones propped against roots
A blind flicker of nerve
Still hand moves out alone
Flowering and leafing
turning to quartz
Streaked rock congestion of karma
The long body of the swamp.
A mud-streaked thigh.
Dying carp biting air
in the damp grass,
River recedes. No matter.

Limp fish sleep in the weeds
The sun dries me as I dance

Gary Snyder

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