Language is key to the thoughts of trees.
The leaves, small tongues against the wind.
Roaring river unlocking the thirst of a far shore.
This sibilance of syllables, the hissing
and glottal stop of branches cracking underfoot,
a warning the thoughts of trees, the key to language,
the small tongues of leaves against the biting wind,
thirst unlocked floods the farthest shore,
the sibilance of syllables the glottal stops,
a branch is a warning in the cambian layer
and danger rises unbidden in that deep secret place
within the brain were no words live,
only pure action. All is verb.
undated Oct 2005?
No comments:
Post a Comment