Gloria Lippmann

Forget the tube of bark,

Alliterative leaves,

Tenacious like a hand

Gnarled rootage in the dark

Interior of land.

Bright incidental bird

Wholse melody is fanned.

Among the bundled sheaves,

Wild spool of the winding word,

Reject: and let there be

Only tree.

Earth's absolute arithmetic

Of being is not the flowering stick

Filled with the sperm of sun,

But in a figure seen

Behind our eyelids when we close

Slow petals of the brain

To match the night's repose.

Colors pour in and out:

Here is the timeless structure wrought

Like the candelabrum of pure thought,

Stripped of green root and leaf,

Getting no seed to sprout.

Stanley Kunitz

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