I am lived. I am died.I was two-leafed three times, and grazed,but then I was stemmed and multiplied,sharp-thorned and caned, nested and raised,earth-salt by sun-sugar. I am innerly sungby thrushes who need fear no eyed skin thing.Finched, ant-run, flowered, I am given the yearsin now fewer berries, now more of slingout over directions of luscious dung.Of water the crankshaft, of gases the gearsmy shape is cattle-pruned to a crown spread sprungabove the starve-gut instinct to make prairiesof everywhere. My thorns are stuck with cariesof mice and rank lizards by the butcher bird.Inches in, baby seed-screamers get supplied.I am lived and died in, vine-woven, multiplied.
—Les Murray, “Cockspur Bush.”Art Credit David Park.

I am lived. I am died.
I was two-leafed three times, and grazed,
but then I was stemmed and multiplied,
sharp-thorned and caned, nested and raised,
earth-salt by sun-sugar. I am innerly sung
by thrushes who need fear no eyed skin thing.
Finched, ant-run, flowered, I am given the years
in now fewer berries, now more of sling
out over directions of luscious dung.
Of water the crankshaft, of gases the gears
my shape is cattle-pruned to a crown spread sprung
above the starve-gut instinct to make prairies
of everywhere. My thorns are stuck with caries
of mice and rank lizards by the butcher bird.
Inches in, baby seed-screamers get supplied.
I am lived and died in, vine-woven, multiplied.

Les Murray, “Cockspur Bush.”
Art Credit David Park.

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    david parkkkkkkk yes
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