A Myth of Symmetry In Vine

A garden of toys was planted before the inconstant heat of May
alive and sprouting quickly in the deep burnt soil
It was tended and neglected benign growth of mere edibles
now she gives it all away, hollow

A gourd-song from patched painted blueness
her private dance corn-bead down a row
strung past the endgame gone doggishly damp
empty, this inconstant symmetry of vine


Crooked neck and glory morning yellow
yeasty spray of tomato red as mad rose
wrapping the house in ropes of melon that
suspend, soft across the screen door we hang

This inconstant exit from her tangled fecundity




(a challenge of three poems with the word Inconstant)

A Comment In Passing

Writing and loving the beauty of a fragile tale
this old story of love in precarious balance
Imagine the scarlet lichen mist drenched rock and bare
the hunger of un-lived afternoons
made clean by touch
the wind and holy shiver
a shade of anticipation
when appreciation merges with surge
tidal upwelling salty and raw



Images by Micah Bochart 8/09 from a morning's hike above our valley home