DJ-TCB

In every shelter there's an out; One strong backdoor always kept open, Braving the breezes and barometric dips, Subtropical dews to cold frosts. When we wake enlightened, and suddenly see How outside is not just outside, We're pulsating cells of wilderness, Pink organs in weather's white skinfat Blood swelling in seasons of full tide, The humid air shaping our lungs, Souls' clock set by sunfall and moonrise, Environment's vessel and pore, Not separated any more From the root and the green trunk that bends.

Nothing Bitter is the resin's bite Sweet the sugared vein Sharp is the spiteless thorn Its gentle jab of pain Rich is the grass we sprawl upon And golden are the leaves The clover blossom's pink pastels Paint spirals on our sleeves The white sun crawls by low at noon In his cold wedding veil Followed by the thin new moon With her silver trail Above gray skulls of granite hills where monks prepare their notes And with loud toasts to suicide Pretend to cut their throats They laugh and roll upon the rocks The echoes leap the cliffs A rattle of tin cups and tea As morning's joy lifts Clear vision bent by endless space Clay

Evergreen A Song Evergreen, evergreen Branches clasped in shady screens Whisper softly as you grow Sentinel of sand and snow Swaying lithe through alpine storms Resin, cone and nut are warm Huddled close and stretching thin As black bears scrabble at your skin Dry when brown drought scours the earth Hide in spines your secret birth Feed the rainless season's fire Drinking salt and stagnant mire Winter's frost white on the mud Your heartwood's cold and living blood Fragrant as a panther's fur For a dryad's elixir Desert gods are not for me So I lie before your knees As the yew branch bends, I sleep Curled up at your clov