michael j. wilson

Eastern Hop Hornbeam

Elder forests
that no longer exist : loom in history : are dark are green are :

my mind fills with kudzu : make mush of my thoughts :

I attempt to imagine a dark continent : I bead myself : attempt virgin wood :

Here is a shore draped with long leaves shaded blue : Here is black noiselessness :

A clearing somewhere
maybe :

I stack my thoughts : a necklace : totems : flavors :

This Eastern Hornbeam : slow moving : Ostrya – bone-like :

the removal of bones :

Imagine lower Manhattan as bare as a glacier :

I will wait for you to clear the ground :
wait for you to ease your hesitation of being responsible for clearing that ground :
Now

imagine it all too thick to enter : almost : almost
more an oyster tonguing a secret dark pearl : darker than night :
the crack of the shell : the opening mouth : it is a secret a might :
it is the smell of moss and of thick limbs : it is blacker than pitch :

Now it opens itself : Slowly :

I hang my dark America on the thought of that moment : when

the first space was suddenly there :

that is easy to imagine :

It is the peeling of a bandage :

 
 

As of 2015: Michael J. Wilson lives in Santa Fe, NM, where he teaches at the Santa Fe University of Art and Design and the Institute of American Indian Arts. He also writes poetry reviews for Publisher’s Weekly. Somehow he also has time to play Dungeons and Dragons on the weekends. Recent publications include: The Laurel Review, Potluck, Treehouse, and Gather. A movie based on his work was filmed in 2014.

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