Poetry A Riprap On The Slick Rock

Wildness It Is Perennially Within Us, Dormant As A Hard-shelled Seed, Awaiting The Fire Or Flood That Awakes It Again.

In Paul Friedrich's Book Proto-indo-european Trees He Identifies The "semantic Primitives" Of The Indo-european Tribe Of Languages Through A Group Of Words That Have Not Changed Much Through Twelve Thousand Years - And Those Are Tree Names: Especially Birch, Willow, Adler, Elm, Ash, Apple And Beech (bher, Wyt, Alysos, Ulmo, Os, Abul, Bhago). Seed Syllables, Bija, Of The Life Of The West.

Clouds Sink Down The Hills Coffee Is Hot Again. The Dog Turns And Turns About, Stops And Sleeps.

Practically Speaking, A Life That Is Vowed To Simplicity, Appropriate Boldness, Good Humor, Gratitude, Unstinting Work And Play, And Lots Of Walking, Brings Us Close To The Actually Existing World And Its Wholeness.

The Other Side Of The "sacred" Is The Sight Of Your Beloved In The Underworld, Dripping With Maggots.