Bleeding green

Can’t get myself to cry
…it’s been over years…
over something that’s left
this samsara
the memories blur and dissipate to the ground
I’m trying to knock myself alive
cry a little more, scream a bit
love a lot
but I’m left dissipating too;
dispersing with the winds themselves
trying to attach to whatever that may come my way
the leaves
the grass
the dew on grass
just anything that’s still there
barechested and green
willing to take it all
as I’m willing to fall way down

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Playful swivel

Seeing you is seeing a raven snake swimming on a stream, after rain
Most people are scared of it
But I just feel so happy, seeing you frolic in shimmering sunlight
Playing against the flow, splashing
Playing with me when I rode on by
As you swiveled into thorny green abyss
I’m fond of you
We meet again in this form
You a snake
and I, your devoted

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John Muir quotes

One of the best ways to see tree flowers is to climb one of the tallest trees and to get into close tingling touch with them, and then look broad

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world

The mountains are calling and I must go

As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.

The power of imagination makes us infinite

Sheep, like people, are ungovernable when hungry

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe

In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks

Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another

I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news.

Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity

I’d rather be in the mountains thinking of god, than in church thinking about the mountains

Keep close to nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.

The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.

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Furs, feathers, skins, and bullfrogs

I miss the woolly mammoths
They look so majestic in the waning sunlight
How do little mammals survive arctic winters?
I wanna distribute shelters to all of them
Poor shivering babies
They’re all so amazing and it’s wondrous to
Acknowledge that they live and accompany us
In this world; so diverse
From deserts to forests
Where a bullfrog lives
Under a green canopy in paradise
Content with zen eyes
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