Needlepoint in Concrete
Needlepoint in concrete
Nature makes its mark
Stitch by stitch
The Tulip Wears a Crown
Not just regal in its bearing The tulip wears a crown Howsoever brief a monarch For all the world to see
Life Goes On ... And on
One hen forms a single egg
But a thousand hens
Perform a widening spiral
So life goes on ... and on
O Biomass That Gives the Lie
Not just regal in its bearing The tulip wears a crown Howsoever brief a monarch For all the world to see
Painting by Sir Peter Blake |
Life Goes On ... And on
One hen forms a single egg
But a thousand hens
Perform a widening spiral
So life goes on ... and on
O Biomass That Gives the Lie
O biomass that gives
the lie
Just how unsentient
am I
Compared to your
restless
Branches and shoots
always
Reaching for the
empty sky
And the obverse truth
Of your rhizomes and
roots
Pursuing their
destiny underfoot
(Drawing by David Harrison) |
I Am the Nebulae
I am the nebulae
Upon first springing to life
I am the seven sisters still
Weeping within our cluster
I am the purest stardust
Shimmering even before it
Has been given a name
The Virus of Life
The Whorl of Life
A green pandemic
Spring breaks out
Attacking the willow first
The Whorl of Life
Bared of its leaves
The winter oak persists
With its dancing
Bared to the wind
And to snow
All the better
It commits itself
To the whorl of life
To the whorl of life
Painting by Martin Jacobson |
What She Saw in the Trees
A copse that might be
Copulating just as well
Denuded of leaves
Trunks leaning into
Each other forward
And aft alive to the
Thought that together
We are made a much greater
Living and heaving mass
By Georgia O'Keefe |
The Leaning Trees
The trees just seemed
To be leaning into each other
On the road ahead as
If all together they had
Bowed in homage to those who
Had walked this road before
On the pole boat
The Lotus of all travelers
Makes its way
Not stuck in the mud
But propelled by
The simple act of
Reaching skyward
Poem for Odilon Redon
I dreamed of blue poppies
Dying to release their fragrance
They drooped and sighed
And when morning came
Up to the very edge of night
The stems were bare and
The blossoms gone from sight
Poem for Gunnar Norman
A tree may be seen
As a leaf enlarged
In the right texture of
light
Its trunk is but a giant
stem
To hold the sum of all
Its leafy parts
Tweet for the Almost Full Moon
Whatever sense of order we possess
We owe to you Sister Moon
Reflective yet teaching us
To live more in the moment
Accepting of a fullness
For which we always come
Either too late or too soon
Either too late or too soon
Poem for #MotivationWednesday
In the ovaries of time
Every pebble is an egg
Destined to hatch
Bringing forth
New treasures
In the 3,000 realms
Of
Suchness
So diverse in kind
A Tweet for Matisse
Quod est desideratum
So the old master said
As he finagled death
With still more art
After taking to bed
A Shout Out to the Forest
The forest is no prison
But misprision to despair
The gathered trunks
Pose no bar to freedom
But serve as herald
But serve as herald
Of no constraint
A Tweet to the Rocky Coast
A Tweet to Energy's Passage
On a cellular level or
As viewed from outer space
The ghost map of our world
Reveals the same scene of
Energy coursing through
The world's many veins
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