Seeds and students

There are seven steps to sprouting
a sunrise circle that revolves
retracing itself in soil and air and season.
So it begins:
Step one- a sparking in the green
the wet vein of life thickening, slowing
solidifying from pulse to potential,
an idea taking on form
the single seed.
Second- a secreting of the seed
in sweetness bright and scented.
The thought must be sold
to the senses that seek it.
Third is the thickening
the fruit and flower grow
more complex and heavy
It's own weight begins to wax
a separation verging.
Fourth falls
the snapping of stem
and swift descent through air
Sudden independence
seeks its own space, sounds alone.
Fifth in line is lying fallow
waiting in sudden darkness
to sort out the sense of self
stripping the sweet flesh back
to the single seed, the green spark.
Sixth is a shooting star
in all directions new webs
stretch for sustenance, for security
It centers itself in knots
and shoves aside dead ground
to make room to grow.
Seven steps to sprouting
and the seventh sends itself
strong and shouting
a green thing grown
with roots and stem all its own.
Secret in the veins is waiting
a seed to be sown.

So I send you
with thoughts and dreams
that have been my own
and now are something new
an idea waiting for you.

Second sight

I have taken your city map
           -Thank you for that by the way
             such careful annotations of traffic
             and potholes and places to eat.
             You have a gift in noting such things,
              precise and to the point. A city
              well dissected.
I have taken the map, that is to say,
          it is in my bag
          growing new streets and boulevards
          by virtue of crease and wrinkle.
 I am quite proud of its dexterity
          such an dry old thing comes alive with
          the right ink and eyes.
          For example, in the warren where the
          old poor were placed, snug stacked
          against the concrete alleys, a burst of birds
          have found themselves all crimson in flight and
          stained the page.
          Along the river, I have marked at least
          three monsters metastasizing at a
          fantastic rate in green grey mold below the bridge.
          There are fifteen locations by which
          you may clearly see the sun rise and
          twelve where the sunset is not as
          melancholy as may be expected at such times.
          On average, the crossing of train tracks
         by small cafes that use chalk primarily
         creates a whorl that I have marked down
         so a fingerprint of sort develops.
I have taken your city map, I fear,
         but the city has taken me.