Les Secrets de la Septième


There are no forces of good or evil in the jungle.

There is only that which blooms and that which decays,

all returning to an earth that experiences the same breath.

Nothing is removed from this great living circle—

even the igneous traces an inception

some circles are much larger than others:

from up close, peering into a decade’s exhale,

the horizon may lose some curvature

a second’s worth flatness

heaved into an entire history

there are no consequences where lines are concerned.

Yet, just as gravity renders all things spherical,

essence renders all life cyclical

the rivers that were will be again

and the fallen tree will rise

there is only a balance between the miraculous and the mundane.

Circles (Jungle’s Law)

The Nomad, Setti Fadma



In the rebirth of the valley

between the green fruit

and the rushing snow melt

between black pelts

and the baritones of new fathers—


In all of this new life

is the reminder that not all survive.

not all buds bloom,

or fruit ripen

or newborns leave the blood clotted fur of their mother’s coat.


not so kind is the flooding of pastures for the foxhole,

or hungry vipers awakening from hibernation

or the sharp bite of the mongoose.

she, too, has mouths to feed.

None of it is evil.

a manifestation of

will, innateness, and luck,


And a reminder that I survived the floods

and the sharp teeth;

that my probability turned to actuality

and I am here breathing

all these beginnings and ends

in the mountain spring

in a far-off land

that I call home.

April 2019

There are times that a troop will cast off an individual or that an individual will isolate themselves from the bulk of the group. There are a slew of reasons: disease, deformities, an approach to the end of life. . .either forced by the alphas or a behavior that is completely self-imposed, you’ll find these individuals hanging around the periphery of activity, usually perched many meters above the center of activity. 

I’ve come to call this ancient male, “The Nomad”. I’m not sure where he’s from or how long he’s been away. But he’s back now.

Toubkal, Morocco


I wondered for a moment, if their souls were there with us–

gasping for air, murdered as they were.

Toubkal 2019

In response to the 2018 murders of two young women in the mountain region where I lived, I embarked on an expedition with my Moroccan friends both as a pilgrimage and way to deal with grief.

Toubkal is the highest peak in North Africa; with Yassine, Daoudi, and Ouba, we were the first people to summit the mountain in 2019.