root of shema
pomegranate—
drive like you’ve got no place to be
sanewashing the banality of crazy
along this stretch horses run free
bulging larynx got stuck in his throat
four nymphs of nature come along
you’ve got stars in your eyes
stop time with a kiss
gainsay that pomegranate trope
not some golden apple of discord fool
you say you remember better days
slant dipping my sunglasses on my nose
head wrapped in red silk scarf flowing arils
eye to eye one rosy retrospective seeds
false memory mixed with polished nostalgia
take root under the tree of immortality
four nymphs of nature come along
untroubled fruit belongs on destiny’s back
on labor’s contractions straddling two watersheds
on the road to Occidental
mint—
with myths just like the four nymphs
each with their plant counting flower time
M is for mint the fragrant ambassador
waterfalls and they say to live in the moment
tripping over roots that anchor foundations
release time box breathing in and out
calm settle down you’re a human thing
a modern human being in the illusion of time
hold tight to the spirit of place
hold tight to cloud souvenirs
stable network books for time travel
jealous green muddling fragrant virtue
edible berries fall in poor soil from manzanitas
move me keep it together it burns me through
four nymphs of nature stay strong
fate has brought us here
narcissus is in a meadow
white pink with hints of yellow
asphodel—
ordinary soul memory is fragmented
we are fragmented because of it
we are fragmented only to be found in the fallout
we write to feel time we listen to music to escape time
crowned in the flowering garland delicate
sticky branches weep weaving baskets
and spider webs blow Diablo fighting a gale wind
how many times has the world crumbled
four nymphs of nature come along
swim swim swim in Silktassel and dance
in the mushroomed fairy rings
joining all of creation praising Grace’s trance
and sense of place rhetoric in reflection burns
turning my repeating anaphora into epistrophe
white poplar—
authentic self cuts patterns in the fabric
it eats at my bones and garbles the root of schema
leaves rustle on the old white poplar whispering
recite affirmations hear repetition tuned root of shema
gods of meltdown crowned in white branches
beg the native or invasive to jump out of their sphere
in the dirt and mud it is the roots not the branches
with the strength to explain the underworld
shadows echo my figure to tell the muse
interwoven in the roots of plants and myths
of a world where false jewels shine brighter
gainscoming identity to take the root element
from the red bark peels of the madrone forest floor
from the ancient redwood duff carpeting
from the crown shyness from the fractals
from the dust of the forbidden and the unforbidden
four nymphs of nature sing along
bathe in pom porridge bathe with tree spirits
bathe in the deep roots that don't fear the wind
bathe in the rock bathe in the cave bathe underground
from the wooly plaid blanket from a wicker basket
drink pomegranate mint lemonade in the asphodel
under white poplar sucker stronger roots in music
from redwoods groves slender silver oaks quake in the wind
trees are Earth’s way of speaking to the universe
crowned of the anaphora
for the anaphora by the anaphora
be like the trees by flowing water
trees are Earth's endless effort to speak of origin
