Frederick Livingston

Frederick Livingston lives in the liminal space between sustainable agriculture, experiential education and peacebuilding. His poems have appeared in literary magazines, scientific journals, public parks and bathroom stalls. Compelled by the power of metaphor to shape culture, he strive to plant seeds for a more fruitful world.

The Moon Rose

Joshua Tree, California

the moon rose
		slowly 	
                          bloomed

the moon petunia soon
          bluebell too
violet 		and 	marigold

the mountain thorns 
                       adorn
slender twilight 	stem

morning roots 
                      deep 
                             in night 

something more 
            than an absence 
                                    of light

Lemon Season

Leaving Njombe, Tanzania

low breeze blows lemon leaves
dreaming sideways through time
I mistook these little green things for limes 
rains arrived on time 	a year ago

today

branches sway
unburdened by fruit I promised
to squeeze into open-fire pies
sunflower humus for your blender
if we slipped into next year

yesterday

the hole beside my courtyard is filled
(god willing) by poles for wires known to be live
I saw a crow dive too near
“whoosh-bzapt-thump!”
power of rivers separating us
brought inside 
we’d live in light
though endless night
devouring all green things spring brings

tomorrow

I’ll walk past the tree
full of unripe lemon-limes
one last time
wondering 	if in a year 
I’ll still taste sweet sour
delicious unease
of a new world becoming old
and an old world becoming new

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