Adoration of Oak, by Ausonia Calabrese
O Temple of my Father’s Father, Mistress of the Giant’s Bane! Palms of rough bark, that end in gnarled hands, Old man of the hills, Sylvan Lord, with a crown of leaves, You bare the burden of mistletoe in your boughs: Venomous gems!
A Wanapum song by the dreamer-prophet Smohalla
My young men shall never work, men who work cannot dream and wisdom comes in dreams. You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mother’s breast? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom, to rest. You ask me to dig for stone. Shall […]