the green tongue.
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…