a present

This is how the carver writes its poem:

The log cracks unfold in their repose palpitating abstractions,

Within sensuous labyrinths the tree sprouts from the timber

And roots Minotaur‘s wails in the nodes of Ariadne’s threads,

Not now; peel off the thud; return to the material:

The sinews of the forest loom in the lumber corpses

A chronology of bounty stored in the echoing rings

That flesh endures under the tyranny of the seasons

Like Daphne‘s shoulders clutching sun’s gaze by the river edge,

Not now; peel off the thud; return to the material:

The bark, it‘s rolling chiaroscuro, reflects the water capillaries,

Vessels of harbored heavens graze on the blue breath of depth

That beaming smiles revive with white dust of decayed shells

Where dolphins plays build archways for the sunset womb

And islands to spell the Siren‘s chant for homesick Ulysses,

Not now; peel off the thud; return to the material:

The eardrum turned into stone, phloem and xilem,

Impenetrable stream deposited to gather the winds

When iris clouds engrave the valley harlequin coat

With frequencies that seize the climber‘s dreaming nerves

From mountain borders retreating in the yawn of fading horizons

To bottom petaled heights swarming in the awe of eagle’s eyes,

Not now; peel off the thud; return to the material:

The senses of the chisel dub the winking memories,

Past ecstasies vibrate in the expansions of future hopes

Checked in the sound of toil that enlarges finitudeS

As the suspended momentum shakes the unfledged cocoon,

The chisel strikes the blow; it is lost and it remains:

The carved butterfly beats its still flight on the stranded perch

Leaving to listen in the loss of blow the permanence of colors

That mingles the imagined blood in air woven crystal pools

To return to light up rainbow scales on emerald newts,

It‘s the continued gesture of joined differences

Rising to the flowering hug of desiring hands,

And this is how the material carves the carver in its poem.