West Virginia

The shadows of winter
grow long and
Shadows deal in whispers
and listening to such
Leads me to reflect
And in a moment’s reflection
I once again walk the hills
rusted and crunchy
Where the grapevine twined into the trees
And blue-tailed lizards
slept on sun drenched slabs
of tawny sandstone

In brooks and creeks
In the waters
and in the rocks
Something very close to the eternal magic
something others call . . . Life
Something sang to me
in a voice deep and clear

the Return of Rynn Jyuck, Master of the Vortex


The old man crawls out of the shallow cave
‘How long have I slept under this rock?’
he asks himself

The younger voice dreadfully cheerful

‘How the hell did I get this way?’
The old man’s voice is dry and sandy

Stand and come forth’


‘The Orb of Hope transcends to the Apex
It has slipped into the World
through the Crack in the sky
the Horizon. . .’
the young man is annoyingly articulate

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The Sister of the Orb
has relinquished her. . .’

‘Hold it!’
the old man interupts

but the younng man charges right on
‘And the flecks of diamond. . .’

‘I said HOLD IT!’


‘Who are you and what do you want?

The young man bows
‘I am but a simple scribe
sent to call you back from the Earth
As per your request long past.’

‘When? I remember no such thing.’

‘Master, you have been here a very long time.’

the old man stretches
‘I feel it
You got any water?’

‘Yes, Master
and some toast with orange marmalade.’



I dreamed I held Dawn’s Left Hand

She opened across a dismal grey horizon
bleeding light and color back into the world

The Darkness receded but did not yield
The roots of dark had grown into my flesh
such that a part of the ever night clung to me

The only way it could hold to me
and avert the ripening young sun
was to hide on me
to become a shadow

I dreamed I beheld Dawn’s golden hair
drifting, nimbus like, around her visage
and I knew if I did not look away
her increasing glory
would surely blind me

I turned to the West
and she caressed my shoulders
my back
my hair. . .

I dreamed the Night had left me
to learn all the things this Day
had to teach me


The Naming of the Gryflix

“So son, they call you Beetle Shaug?”

“We can stop here to rest, if you like.
I have more vittles. . .
Some nice fowl.”

“Is your name Beetle Shaug?”

“Yes, though I prefer to go by the moniker ‘Aryan’.”

“Master at Arms?”

“Well. . . yes.”

“It would seem there is more to you
than meets the eye young Tyro.
I knew Aryan, a very long time ago.”

What was that like?”

“Why did they send you. . .?
I must name you.
Close your eyes son.
Yes, like that
Without looking
tell me the name of the creature
the one peeking at us from the wood-line?”


“Close your eyes.”

“There is nothing out there.”

“You better tell me before it nips your nose.”

There comes a crashing sound
could have been a stone thrown by the old man
or it could have been. . .

“A Gryflix.
A Gryflix comes.”

Open your eyes
I shall call you Gryf.”

“Not certain I like that name.”

“You like it better than Beetle?”

“Well, yes
But. . .”

“Gryf it shall be.
Why did they send you?”

“Tyros of Institute
have treked to the Cavern for hundreds of years.”

“But, why you?”

“It was my turn.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine Gryf.”


On the Bluff Overlooking Institute

The boy
He seems reluctant to walk down
now that we are overlooking Institute

He will not meet my eye
seems not to hear my questions
and is otherwise distracted

What does such a suffering face tell me of New Man?
My thoughtful soul
freshly returned from silent solitude troubles me on his behalf

“Breath deep son
Suspire the Wonder of this World. . .”

“Master. . .”

“Yes, Tyro?”

“They have no idea you are coming
and not everyone will be pleased. . .
with me.”

And I laugh for the first time in ages
“Hell, son
Same as it was
Same as it ever shall be.”

“Dewlar and Frdii
They said
the reason I got picked for checking your Cavern
is because no one wants me around.”

“Non sense
A fine young apprentice like you?”


I step to him
Take hold of his head and hold his eye
“Yes son
I take you as my Tyro.”
He is shaking

Hold it together son
hold it together
We have to get thorough this

Do you swear to obey me in all things?”
Don’t shake your head
Say it son.”

“You don’t want me. . .”

You will not tell me what I want and don’t
You will tell me if you chose to obey me as your master”

Oh yes Master Rynn Jyuck.”

“Then let it be known hence that this young man is now
Gryflix Tyro Jyuck
This man is my acknowledged apprentice in accord with the Old Ways”

I can feel the Sky, Earth and Water watching
This is a right thing and well done
I clap my hands and rain clouds form in the distance

a right thing and well done




this is the beginning of an epic

more to come




this is the beginning of an epic

Wolf Way

Sacred wolf
Sing over me
That I might feel the way of the World
Which I believe to good at its Heart

Sacred wolf
Sing your howling song to the
new summer moon
That I may hear the resonate bond
That holds all things in their proper place

Sing in a voice that is Hope
Hope that clings to every heartbeat
Sing in the words of power
The power of my grandfathers
Sing the spruce seed
The smoothed creel pebble
The gentle breeze

Let my eyes sparkle
As a child’s eyes sparkle
Let my voice join yours
And let the song float
In the sun’s rays
In the leaves of the sacred tree brothers

And it was as though
The whole of the world paused in that thought
And listened with me
To hear the Sacred wolf’s reply


And I was frightened as I am seldom frightened
Had the Sacred wolf heard me?


Oh please don’t let this be the end of it
Oh please tell me that you are not all dead
Oh please . . .

Soft on the moonlit zephyr
At first no louder than my pulse
The Sacred wolf song
Growing stronger across the night

Thank you God

Maid Wymysi

Maid Wymysi is dancing across the lake
Leaves fall in her wake
She says
“Look . . .
I know the sky is dark and the winds walk the woods
but ignore all that and listen to me”
Her dark-dark eyes seeping into my soul

The Maid Wymysi says
“I will speak comfort to you
that you might fly in a cyan sky
untroubled by clouds”
Her breath warm and complex

The Maid pirouettes and suddenly the wind is her orchestra
Her voice comes as if from a distance
“In the caves beneath the earth
and in the chambers of the hearts of men
I can dance where you would stumble”

Her face fills my eyes, I can see nothing else
She says
“I can protect you from all things wanting your blood
but you must spare me a drop every now and then . . .
After all, a girl’s got to make a living”

The First Snow of November

Misty rain at first, painting the glowing river stones. My fingers split the clear waters, but they rejoin. The tegument of the summer’s reeds undulates in ribbons, compliant playthings of the current. I wish to be like that. Wish that I could fold and unfurl without resisting, a velvet ribbon dancing with the wind. I withdraw my hand and take a certain pleasure in its tingling.

Beyond the water-color sky, lies the home of the winds, or so I am told. There the brothers and sisters of the Sun, the Wind and Moon and Rain, call to one another in their temples of pleasure.

My brother, the shadow hawk dances within this distant dream of the autumn child. His hawk heart, running wild beyond the riverbeds of Reason, knows that there are reasons beyond Reason, knows that there are pathways beyond Number. I poke under a river stone with my walking stick.

Snow flakes fall. Tiny vampire feathers that suck the warmth from the land, from my hand. The mountain grows velvety grey in the flock of falling feather.

My heart is at rest.