To Russia With Love

i feel the home-ness of Russia in my veins—
the taiga barren & dry
greening in the smooth slide off
of winter’s harsh
the battle of light & dark
tho somehow, it feels the dark
triumphs & blackens down into the soul furthest
the larches, hushed in deadery proclaiming the light with subtle
surfacings of tenderness & virtue
the lichens clinging, sucking, theiving the thin air & spreading out
to blanket all the barrenness—my heart pulsating cyan & sweet
the strange echo of the aurora
cast across the sky in great waves
of magenta & flotsom green
i listen—& what is found is
the echo of my own land
boreal & strange & benighted & enlightened
& fervid & quiet, the lovely lush quiet of the night
but with that faint trickle of songs sung in the din of the heart
(court’s back in session…and we wait)

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