How many sweet and savage summers
lie buried here,
their weedy bones telling the story
with a wavering, pale gold voice
like chimes across a canyon
or a sprinkle of glitter falling,
falling like false hope
through the brambles
where the arms that cradled berries
cage the mist.
Was this where I learned the
religion of zealous mints,
redeemed the unconverted garlic,
ravaged the chamomile with
geisha's skin and the conjurer's
Is this the same world I trusted my
this fallen Olympus
fading to white
like justice and mercy,
gestating slow, sleeping late?
Oh for July's golden armor,
green lust, inspired crystal.
My love, come and touch this
field with fire,
ignite one more season, this speck
set like a gem upon infinity:
so much vastness I never knew
and so much more containing
my endless spirit, and my endless love.
Now winters live like embers on
It was always you shining there
like the crocus,
like the gold that blooms in snow.