Raven's Nest resting: Jim Larwill update (haibun)

 




After the Raven
Robin’s nest impaled
on Beaver stump spike.

Hey Chris,

The signs seem to be strong these days.   Hawk flew right by my ear the other day in the woods while I was raking my poetry walk trying to clean up after last winter.


breath of fantail stripes
wisps sepia shades
past my knowing

The long and the short of it is don’t count on me for this years Purdyfest/Livesayfest.  No good reason.  Just I seem to be going more to ground than usual even for me.  It was a real winter this year and I can already feel the next one coming on.  The gardens and next winter’s wood seem to be moving me from breath to heart-beat.


my yellow snake
in these woods, drips
with new paint

The post on your blog about the Waverly Hotel in Toronto got me thinking about past and present.  It seems to me if I am only going to read once a year I should do it here and the passing of the Waverly got me thinking that the Black Sheep Inn here in Wakefield is a venue still alive for now and may only last as it is for a while now the 4 lane highway is coming from Ottawa.


our water source
hippies in trees
Canadian Shield blasted
I will try and send people to Purdyfest, only I don’t think I will make it myself this year.     Other years I have certainly felt the need for the calm and gentleness of Zen River Gardens.  Now I think I more need to be here at the Raven’s Nest. This weekend it is Quebec’s national holiday.


Gerald Godin beats Bourassa
People’s Poet becomes MNA,
but not in Canada, influences USA

I have not heard wolves for a while, for now my Raven’s are still with me, at least the coyotes haven’t moved in yet as far as I know, I guess no matter what, when the crows show up I will continue to try and read the signs written in the rocks.

Take care and all the best.



Mystic Self Eater


We last few totems of the pack
retreat to our hilltops
our howls silent,  Now
mere mist rising
on a morning lake
to disappear into their
hum of yellow light.

I am the carcass of a wolf
they would build their
caves of honey into.

I will leave to find my path
back to the dream time,
as I grieve for the Way
that is no more in this world.

Dancing in the stars
drumbeats of the heart
guide my last steps.

My ears flat on my head;
tail - question mark between
my feeble arthritic legs:
I know when I am defeated
and must lay down on rock.

Jim

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Hi Jim and Chris,

This morning i just posted " there might have a dancing party on the camping night... "

https://www.facebook.com/#!/events/346282755500661/

I am trying to get a few families or poets come...to the Nature....

But I do hope Jim you are there to protect us...and Han as well, i will facebook him...

BTW, the haiku and poems are wonderful...


Anna

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