Walking in woods drained of sunlight, rain running down jacket, splashing off boots, soaking boggy ground, a tree bends over to whisper that last night some of its family fell, prey to the cold. Birds sing indifferently; the creek rushes past me with nearly an intelligible word. Only the winds, dreaming of foul weather, are in a positive mood.

With religions subsuming recent insights to antediluvian myths, are we losing our exemplary haunt in the numinous world? It's
imagination that makes "the tendrils of dark matter" tolerable.

on gravel bottom,
my brain darkening,
a jar of spawn
fermenting underground

"Because so many shamans around the world report dismem- berment and skeletalization as components of their initiation into shamanic status, it seems that the brain compensates for movements in the head, body, eyes and objects by allowing the sensory data to be tracked across the visual field. The neurons in the striate cortex respond to objects moving across the field of vision as is seen in many experiments. It is proposed that the sensation, or hallucination, of one's body coming apart in an altered state of consciousness is, like the sensation of entering a vortex and flying, wired into the human nervous system."

The inevitability of work sutured over decades, with small decisions that were infinitely complex, because of this our position is tenuous, if not hopeless, in recalling the past.

What is remembered is less a forged chain than an oscillating web of synchronicities.