speaking then, of mountains
best to articulate
round Tlingit council fire
immemorial lore relate
up to the Klehini
where ebullient waters run
to meet up with Chilkat
for Ku.eex' in the sun
drove through Chilkoot pass
in my summer of '69
in International truck
I thought the world was mine
Matchbox pickup did a
skyscraper condiment hop
on mammoth dinner table
at the world's tippy top
crane neck, open eyes wide
look up past where earth ends
that's when you'll meet my
Alaskan mountain friends
breath-catching deities
cloud swaddled tips of pine
titan elders at feast
on stratosphere recline
it's all different here
we've stepped out of space
land so large it echoes
with the Tao of the place
Omi Pause
The Tao (pronounced Dow) is an ancient concept meaning "The Way." It is the natural rhythm of the universe—the force that moves the salmon upriver and keeps the mountain peaks steady. To find the Tao is to both natter and listen. To hear but also be heard, perhaps for the first time. And then to just be still and in that heard-ness, listen. It is the "Way" the mountains speak when we are finally small enough to hear them.
evergreen shrine sublime
whip-crack cold makes jaw ache
snow cone blue firmament
admires reflection in the lake
Dust who-speck speaks freely
with Lords of the wood
too small to see or hear
yet her say is understood
ponderous giants ponder
and bow with deep respect
lower their almighties
to me the little speck
Tlingit reverence for
all creatures great and small
as Horton heard each Who
from smallest to the tall
My friend Mrs. Moose sits
in forest fire Holy See
knows reincarnation grows
from just one burnt-out tree
Omi Pause: Holy See and Seeing
Holy See in Rome is the Seat of Peter. Here it's a cathedral of nature presided over by Mrs. Moose, the sacred witness—the one who "sees" the holiness in the fire and the rebirth of the woods.
Baby pink shells collected
named on whimsical whim
where tinsel-ical salmon
with the hooligan swim
as if posed for post cards
naughty black bears play
lonely abalone beach
Baby Whale in the bay
Last Post and Chorus sung
Eagle calls down the moon
rock cave dwelling bats wake
for it will be dark soon
in the land of Klukwan
we're on Chilkoot time now
nattering with great spirits
transcending all, somehow
content in our oneness
no alpha nor Omega end
contemplate much muchness
let tranquility descend
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