Issue 4 – Kristofco3

John P. Kristofco


trees drop their dose of sun
like words of a philosophy
spread in leaves about the forest floor,

true as any treatise,
loud as evening of St. Helens;

evergreen toothpicks in the ash,
pyroclastic flows, endless gray horizon,
surface of the moon…

until the glints of green,
            first nouns and verbs,
slice back up through dust
for words to find the light,

start another forest in the sun