take the axe and pick, pound
ground gone dry, settled cement,
something flat, yielding nothing but vague
tracks, split pictures, fractured
images, rifts, dead
ends depicted in limited dimensions,
re-tracing stick in dirt, scratching
stone across confirmed concrete
such busywork-
the cutting edge kept
spinning on grindstone,
perspective restricted,
nose cut off to spite
the bright reflection
of your countenance
in the light of this lens,
can't smell,
can't stop to-
oh, the roses!
the scent,
essential, pervasive,
opening, disseminating-
to admit, now,
dawn, rosy
blush of sky,
what arises
centered warm
in your own aurora,
flushing the whole
round body, this endless
horizon, aroma of blossom,
white blooms strewn,
petals spectral, all hues
radiant and radiating-
immeasurable radius,
glorious