If a tree is a fact, is a copse a fact too?
A fact: chakras reluctant to open.
As Lucía said, “You get here, your channels close up.
You get there, they open up.”
To enter you must go through the copse.
Abracadabra. Corpse, cadaver,
ábrete sésamo. Open sesame, remove
the stubborn block, the language constrained
at the glottis. Instead, shoot up from the crotch.
Zangoloteo mínimo, eléctrico.
Rattle the bifurcated trunk.
Bring not the split but the stream.
As per folk etymologies: Abracadabra.
“I will create as I speak.”
Conscious as self as ever displayed, splayed
open, ábrete sésamo. An invocation.
A surface folds itself into a mouth.
Déjame hablar, aunque nadie me entienda.
Misunderstood because I’m neither verby nor nouny.
When you speak through scents, pheromones, toxins,
and electrical signals only, the arc is harder to follow.
They think we’re out for ourselves only.
“Vainas de ajonjolí que sólo con rozarse
explotan y se abren.”
For the mystic speaking a lingua ignota, viriditas,
the natural world’s greenness, is divine
life’s moisture, its sudor or sap.
Galinzia, her word for plane trees.