Sage, sav[i]or[ed]

from Strabo’s Hortulus

Elelisphakos frontfirst shines his own where, sweet-smelling, force-full, well-won when dared, proven in plural man’s wounds to make well; evergreen earned, ever young may he dwell.

he wears an inward wrong: the younger yearning flowers, if unbounded, hunger far unfounded— they linger, longing, long too long; they bleed his branches’ breath, [. . .]

[s]talks

in the warming season i tried to gain a higher eye, learning how it feels to stand between the earth and sky:

across the meadow, but more _through_, past sunblonde spotless stalks i walk to where the tree stands, seeming lone, grownextothrough the rock. lichen-covered all’way up–rosettes and fractal splays–the bark i clutch as up [. . .]

how Solomon was sealed

once, upon the twilight of an age when daylight and delight were long in lasting, and [r]age was rare, and songs were of substance solid enough to softly break our nightly fasting, there was born a boy who bent as freely as the reeds, and often went to wander in the forest, seeking seeds. there [. . .]

needleafamily

from boreal border, where trunks crowd in tight, to tundra-touching taiga under midnight day and midday night, stretches winter-fir[m] far-reaching forest, the spiraling spread of the [s]pine. it’s there where Douglas found his false-hem’s lock, where spruce and cedar cede little space to ruminant or rock, where youngling yew and sage sequoia reign in re[dwood]cline.

[. . .]

cons[cious]tit[ched infl]uents

we are legion. we are net-work. we are bound and wound in wisdom taught through time. each one of us alone is no more than tic or tone; together, we make rhythm, resonance, rhyme.

you’d divide us. you’d pull one from the pool and say “this is the active, the strong.” you forget it’s in [. . .]

viriditas

we meet them as hunters holding emeralds and limes; they come on as olives, as myrtles and pines; we name Kelly and Harlequin, hang mosses with jade; from Irel_and army to celadon sea, so onwords is our forest made. in the name of Thomas Rhymer, in the name of La Maga, in the names of [. . .]