By Michael H. Brownstein
How do you create sunlight and good day?
Three parts flour juice, opaque and measures,
furious greens, the grand shadow of the great oak
near the high ridge beyond the slow moving water,
a bite of skin, pinch of glory, shape of oxygen,
and the short shadow of the pygmy blackjack oak
rising from soil depletion and a lack of moisture,
windstorms and wildfire, and a taste of orange.
Mix together well and scatter across the rainbow.
Allow everything to reach room temperament.
When the sunshine breaks into prisms of good day,
find a place in the back field and begin planting.
How do you create sunlight and good day?
Three parts flour juice, opaque and measures,
furious greens, the grand shadow of the great oak
near the high ridge beyond the slow moving water,
a bite of skin, pinch of glory, shape of oxygen,
and the short shadow of the pygmy blackjack oak
rising from soil depletion and a lack of moisture,
windstorms and wildfire, and a taste of orange.
Mix together well and scatter across the rainbow.
Allow everything to reach room temperament.
When the sunshine breaks into prisms of good day,
find a place in the back field and begin planting.
Copyright © 2019 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s latest volume of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else, was published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018. |
Descriptive, very nice imagery.
ReplyDelete“The snake god” continues to prod and poke my imagination. The god whose people created a garden wherein a snake played a decisive role? A god who “must” be a snake, the wriggly nature of...nature seeming to have demanded it, like creating like?
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