The green is full of this hour of
need trust in the thrust of
giving – at most two mistakes are allowed
The age of the sun is now of
need brown in this burn of
hurt – after two mistakes the count is lost
The loam of the river sinks of
need claim this calm of
void – when you lose count you are free
i-
to eke harmony
order has to be hacked off
to sing
the ode must die
to speak tree
growthspurt will give way
to song
the words of thisdom
ii-
the wound communes begins
to knead the agreements of
heal
I.
“I am deliberate
and afraid
of nothing.”
An act of will that
mourns wonder
weaves magic –
– Quoted words from “New Year’s Day” by Audre Lorde
II.
“Green essence pooled again in my eyes, which paint the grass, which will later bloom in the memories of animals.”
I as earth
I as animal
woke as essence of green –
– Quoted words by Alejandra Pizarnik
In tumult, the rose of the pen
withheld word
spent woodspun ash
As if
green vessels of forgiving
died on a sparrow
Stalk –
Crowsong a city can aspire to
as it stutters,
as the fumes settle as the little
that-is is littled
even more – the brag of machete
skins even the
riddle leaving machine leaving
us middled –
Wrinkle song, spider sung, my
dark my light
in awe – wrinkle sung, mother
song, my feet
as clay as sun – dance hence &
thence as now
as when, wrinkle deep this spider
song and weep –
—
Tangentialized from the story “A New Wrinkle” taken from “Grandmothers of the light: a medicine woman’s sourcebook” by Paula Gunn Allen.
i-
I ring a large scream that every tree
will sing
to the squirrels who shall forget to die
that season –
next year, the undead will carve out
an eagle’s
notes on the heads of the fallen song
& cry & cry –
ii-
In the grief of the grove lies
the sullen
bark – take it away and the
sun will
melt your sheen your idea of
tear &
giving birth – the sun as
mother
As I sleep away my mourning, grass walks, asks, “what
is it that the children of rain remember most?” The story
answers, waters the plaint – As I seep away my morning,
grass is worm is root as this poem is awake with heal-
“How does the strange earth bear fruit, does it know
which road shall converge into dark & which one shall
be the rabbit?” I stand as it all begins to flower & then
smoke – the fruit bearing earth now rustles its feathers-
