Thursday, March 15, 2007

The Double Landscape

The majestic eye loosens from its stem.
You must kill the tree to know its true age.
Its rings are wrought of gold, its gold is gray.
The satin thorn wields its fang without rage.

No breath is made in the absence of clay.
But drop by drop the air consoles the lungs.
The pressing storm expands the shrunken field.
The peach tree blossoms quiver like white tongues.

The still lake lies like an abandoned shield.
Spears of rainfall deflect off its surface.
First darkness sleeps beneath the silver roof.
An elusive swimmer seeks his purpose.

A child collects fossils to prove the truth.
Hair, string, straw are all the bounty of nests.
The proof of life rests in nurturing death.
When the hawk drops from flight, the birds confess.

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