Tree of Life

Hello to Blog land this is my virgin blog here goes
yours truly
kelly jean







Tree of Life



With your Michaelangelo hands

you try to imitate the divine inspired by an infinite mind

with concrete convex finite edges.



I introduce myself. Primordial, yet cordial.



Sometimes you bear fruit that tastes of Adam

after the eviction

seasoned with a fallen angel or two

and the end of days



I am Diana I say to a falling, nodding branch

a goddess self contained

you say just wait



you must race Narcissus first

restore Echo her voice

to her own body.



Only friend to a lonely girl

a white swan still in cygnet garb

waiting for her prince

and the tragic russian ending—



she tied a yellow ribbon

in your hair because she heard it in a song

of the time at the crossroads

of Celestial Lane and Farm’s Edge

address of the plane

of man and all his failures



a girl who hid in closets

her grandmother had been locked into

by her faith

for writing with the wrong hand.







You will write with both hands full and a question you tell her--

You will be safe from anger by locking your heart away

by becoming a vessel of unexpressed emotion

gypsy made of old gossamer

curtains and rags



harps of gold and light

buried in your roots

away from a tax on the music

flutes and cellos play ancient songs in the wind



I sought you out--

the size of a thought dancing on the head of a pin

thimbleful of mortality

in my heel where my mother

held me to the fire

like Achille’s mother before her

burning away

my immortality instead



squirrel food half-eaten

half offered to gods of our own making



worshipping

a sky father and earth mother

the others the barbarian Mongol hordes

will poetically call fingers on a hand