Sunday, October 30, 2016

Lucy Alexander # 60 Wood Flower

All in one day these tiny circles marking the toothsome tree
up until it was bitter or too hard to pulp or the bark grew tight
back then, to the soft filaments, fibers just tough enough
the tree’s own pattern back and forth like scratching,
or as if you were lost among the tree’s long calendar
of up and out and restless leaves bing tinkered by the wind
maybe there was a song, there, too sung slow supersonic
the wood mite’s lullaby, and sleep will come and borrow you
look at the flower you carved as a larvae look at the petal
the stalk the tree’s own beginning and its reason.


  1. lost in the tree's long calendar
    I'm sure there was a song


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