from The Spring Flowers

Own: “The morning after / my

death”
The morning after

my death

we will sit in cafés

but I will not

be there

I will not be

There was the great death of birds

the moon was consumed with

fire

the stars were visible

until noon.
:
 Green was the forest drenched

with shadows

the roads were serpentine

A redwood tree stood

alone

with its lean and lit body

unable to follow the

cars that went by with

frenzy

a tree is always an immutable

traveller.

The moon darkened at dawn

the mountain quivered

with anticipation

and the ocean was double-shaded:

:
 the blue of its surface with the

blue of flowers

mingled in horizontal water trails

there was a breeze to

witness the hour

The sun darkened at the

fifth hour of the

day

the beach was covered with

conversations

pebbles started to pour into holes

and waves came in like

horses.

*
:
 The moon darkened on Christmas eve

angels ate lemons

in illuminated churches

there was a blue rug

planted with stars

above our heads

lemonade and war news

competed for our attention

our breath was warmer than

the hills.

There was a great slaughter of

rocks of spring leaves

of creeks

the stars showed fully

:
 the last king of the Mountain

gave battle

and got killed.

We lay on the grass

covered dried blood with our

bodies

green blades swayed between

our teeth.

We went out to sea

a bank of whales was heading

South

a young man among us a hero

tried to straddle one of the

sea creatures
:
 his body emerged as a muddy pool

as mud

we waved goodbye to his remnants

happy not to have to bury

him in the early hours of the day

We got drunk in a barroom

the small town of Fairfax

had just gone to bed

cherry trees were bending under the

weight of their flowers:

they were involved in a ceremonial

dance to which no one

had ever been invited.

I know flowers to be funeral companions

:
 they make poisons and venoms

and eat abandoned stone walls

I know flowers shine stronger

than the sun

their eclipse means the end of

times

but I love flowers for their treachery

their fragile bodies

grace my imagination’s avenues

without their presence

my mind would be an unmarked

grave.

*
:
 We met a great storm at sea

looked back at the

rocking cliffs

the sand was going under

black birds were

leaving

the storm ate friends and foes

alike

water turned into salt for

my wounds.

Flowers end in frozen patterns

artificial gardens cover

the floors

we get up close to midnight

search with powerful lights

:
 the tiniest shrubs on the

meadows

A stream desperately is running to

the ocean
: