A Japanese Garden in a French Mind
Stephanie Sears
Originally Published in the August 2012 Issue of Empirical
Stylization intended for a wall tells none
where earth ends and heaven begins.
A flat landscape, in fact, so the eye
can make up any joyous prospect
though the garden hides nothing
and revels in its own integrity
blinding me to any other,
terrestrial or oftentimes invoked.
This has a boundless season of powdery mimosa
emitting warmth in long-haired breezes,
of imperial silk of which the embroideries
wandered off beyond their hem
–blue nymphs, orange sea stars–
into a pearly extinction of darkness.
Unalloyed yellow from which gold was extracted
left hanging on a few branches in a corner
the gilt mood of divinity against a haze of faith
where bright flowers odorously orbit.
The blossoming air plays the eternal Spring
pumping sun into my lungs.
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