from A Dearth of Prose

I have seen paradise in the dewdrop of a hyacinth.
I have seen God in the groaning of the terebinth.
I have seen gold in the orchid tower.
I have seen God in the amaranthine flower.
O blue white and red
blood and sea and bread
O God in the pealing waves
O the bloody Roman waves
O God of the hyacinth
O God of the terebinth
O God you who
the seed of the growing oak
hand under the artichoke
push us up, O God, make us flower
poppies spurt from the gunpowder
O the hacking hyacinth
coughing plumes of terebinth
golden dust that in a pinch
makes the forest grow.

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