The Woodsmen

No Path

The Woodsmen


no form
no eyes
no color
no mind
no sound
no touch
no increase
nothing to attain
no stopping
no path
no connection
no death
no obstacle
no accumulation
no compassion
no annihalation
oh jah

i aint funnin-
hold back the curtain,
im a-comin.
baby dont slow-
dont stop tryin.
put your foot on the rock and
keep on risin.

the shipwrecked pages that a month divides
what a mouse can climb, how an elephant hides
under ferns as long as the heavenly arm that the muses abide.
from up on high, the single bloom of the frozen iris,
and the greenhouse that hides it:
held under and down by the ivory crown of the pirates.

no form
no eyes
no color
no mind
no sound
no touch
no increase
nothing to attain
no stopping
no path
no connection
no death
no obstacle
no accumulation
no compassion
no annihalation
oh jah

i aint funnin-
hold back the curtain,
im a-comin.
baby dont slow-
dont stop tryin.
put your foot on the rock and
keep on risin.

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