WEBVTT

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"The Secret Garden."

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This poem concerns the
relationship of son and father,

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seen under the light
of the star, Wormwood.

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"The place is growing difficult.
Flails of bramble crawl

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into the lawn.

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On every hand, glittering
toughened branches

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drink their dew.

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Tiny worlds, drop by drop
tremble on thorns and leaves.

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They will melt away.

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The silence whispers around
us, 'wither, wither, visible,

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invisible.'

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A child stands an
instant at my knee,

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his mouth smells of
energy, light does light.

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I touch my hand to his
pale flesh taking strength,

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he stands still, absorbing
in return the first paint.

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Immaculate, the waiting
kernel of his brain.

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How set him free, a son,
toward sour encounter?

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Children's voices
somewhere call his name.

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He runs glittering into
the sun and is gone.

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I cultivate my
garden for the dew.

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A rasping boredom
follows into death.

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The sun climbs a creature of one
day, and the dew dries to dust.

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My hand strays out and
picks off one sick leaf."