In the hidden garden you force perspective on us when you push us to flowers where flowers are already crowded, losing their aromatic ability to whisper names, names like Miranda Luigi Orlando Pasquale Valentino or kick back at us, creatures no stranger than they, in groves along the stone fence like this here in warm lagoon air rain-wet air, like the rooftops beneath which we spend most of our time. But your garden is special. You force us to stand firmly against the only space your flowers have left, while we, sporeless, rootless, seasonless, have other options. Why then do we weep before these flowers? Let's gather their camphor scent with their roughness and stickiness to our bosoms. If you have a camera, click fast because we are about to move on and may not return for a long time. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABU SALAMMAMM - A SONG OF EMPIRE by EZRA POUND THE PHOSPHORESCENT MAN by KAREN SWENSON PORTRAIT D'UNE FEMME by EZRA POUND EUCALYPTUS TREES by SISTER BENEDICTION PSALM 49 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SUBSTITUTE FOR AN EPITAPH by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |