I'd say (say!) the mustard seed quartered like silt in its own Spirit
& breathing us out
can even arouse the envy of the doughty-petalled with
molten roots
The difference between deity & the dirt, eh?
—Eaarth by name and cause!—and of all the dirty sunrises
the tallest, coral-eye
at each wrist, & so delicate a weaner can now crush her
And what wouldn't leafy signify? such as the fractious being
of cicatrices
(of Life) that rails against an endless Morder of instinct
for flight, pleasance,
and tears by design, too, and knows even to push a Cajun
root up & out, rum-thirsty!
And like the leaden-legged full of her incandescent
surprises-
yes! leggy & swollen to the knee-
it'd be right lamentable to cull out sap just by opening—ha!—
& deliver the salty most
beribboned calf of a smile, wet with work, ever to fall
on a lord's honey seas
Betrayed by a smile, and caring even less for yr fiery bees
she's any vine, with leaf, a proud valley
& Cajun tomb
—for likely to be etched is anything mythical, & what's more
mythical than the tomb?—
-Oh! j'ai l'impression que je la connais-
stately dank and eyes as colourful as envy of the molten root
below!
scintillations ah! only the terrible coal keep & that to late atoll greens
like to go
Trying to find bears for relief & depressed vines can hold you close
to these inedibles
She, this deep One into which stallions retreat like the plain at
the northerly most cold there is,
is the indubitability of every crystallitic, and yes! where the feet
have indubitably turned crystallitic
By so much dearer to thee
She's a cascade away from the likes of me, & deepens as heart, who
looks for dawn fully,
oh! peaty heart,
& lies hot under the woody detritus of several trees-of-heaven!
She who puled for thee
*Eaarth is the name environmentalist Bill McKibben gives to the planet we used to call Earth before global warming.
