This Deep Green

This deep green is sea,
is ocean, is the breaking green,
and in this magnolia bob
two tiny beaks, so battened
and downy are the hatches
of this hummingbird nest:
a coracle cresting this branch.
This rushing green is wave,
is roller, is the wrecking green,
and the wave is now, and now
first drops of rain begin the dark.
The nest is barely thimble,
hardly ark, but watertight.
And the chicks sail on
and I can taste viridian
bitter and sweet,
and the growing is psalm
and the green is also leaf.

Court in Carmana

(A poem from my project, “Towards Westness”)

You can get an audience
with the West near the coast.

I have been to court in Carmana,
the old growth of empire
grown great with green,
rain-rich and extravagant
in its giving: seeds, berries, leaves
like nothing – silver to Solomon –
treasures forged by heat of sun
and tempered with Pacific mist.

I thought to pay tribute,
but came away with a gift:
wickerwork entelechy,
this light wooden flower
intricate, fully open,
its petals stiff and ridged,
a cone held in cupped hands
upside-down a stylized pine.