A New Poem: Go Through The Hills

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by Stephen Pickering

You are my tree.
because you have set me free.
An orchard garden grows
on land that once only snowed.

I’m under a spell
Only Ishtar can undo
Down, down her Roman well
I’m falling too.

I am the bird.
My life is the worm.
I see her cold, dark eye
bury me in the blood red sky.

There’s a tick.
The doors unlock.
I’m just a hick,
but I know when angels knock.

I don’t deserve this.
But here I am:
An Italian mist
Where Dante swam.

There’s a nickel sky,
and a lone star.
Gray clouds cry
wondering where you are.

That girl will come.
I feel her blinking again.
A bouncing little Sun.
She knows exactly where I am.

These beings inside
If you climb their stare
Feed the stillness of the night,
the castle that’s always been there.

I cannot breathe.
Your eyes are the hidden stone.
The gateless gate to the golden stream.
Unfold the night no man’s known.

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