I Sail It

Words and photos from the past few weeks of visitations by good friends, talks and thoughts and travels through Wyoming wilds. Tetons + Yellowstone + Big Horns. Summer.

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I SAIL IT

I sail it
A boat to travel;
Tack wide,
Or dive deep?

I follow it
A path to meander afoot;
Through soft and tough,
Tangled bramble and view-sight-awe.

I scratch it
A wound to bleed;
On me on others on everything,
Purple scars stick around.

I hear it
A coyote to rise at dawn;
Snout-snot pointing at melting starscape,
Liberated yelp begs Moon to stay.

I browse it
A library to know to penetrate;
Ribbed rows of prose and bones,
Stillness and headphones and butterfly-catchers.

I find it
A key to unlock;
Shadowed cellar-box dusty and stale,
Only to discover another key.

I love it
A world to rest here-now-naked-alive;
Gifts of perceptual song,
Bubbling up from chambered mystery

Too grand for us, but of us.

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