the enso

"Extensions" by marlowe

the poem

If a tree is life
then these exposed roots, tangled
like Medusa’s hair, half-drowned in water,
are the bloodlines. We want more

than these exposed roots. Tangled,
we twist our limbs, failing to see
our bloodlines. We want more
than the promise of power as

we twist, our limbs flailing, to see
how a legend is created from nothing more
than the promise. Power
leaves men stunned. In its wake, we fear

a legend is created. From nothing: more
power. This weapon attached to a shield
leaves stunned men in its wake. Fear
writhes, alive. Your head, the trunk, is

power, a weapon attached to this shield
like Medusa. Hair half-drowned in water
writhes, alive: your head is the trunk, as
if a tree is life.

the enso

detail from "Sky" by Mark Hiebert

the poem

you think
a ray
of sun
reaching
out from
the clouds
is proof
that God
Yahweh
Allah
or some
divine
spark will
ignite
your mind
perhaps
you are
right but
perhaps
God is
dispersed
in this
ghost mist
arching
along
our hills
rising
like a
phoenix
but then
perhaps
Yahweh
is here
enclosed
in dew
drops on
fern leaves
and so
perhaps
Allah
waits there
patient
inside
the space
between
beating
humming
bird wings
and yet
maybe
that spark
crackles
holy
within
your heart