Jeannine Hall Gailey

I was reading Jeannine Hall Gailey's poem "Van Gogh's Olive Grove" in the Poemeleon poetry journal here and immediately loved it. She's got an incredible sense of nature, of our interaction with it on a time elapse level. Her eldritch ending is wild; I copied down this poem for future re-reading when I got to the end the first time.

Her excellent opening has a great middle and a unique end. I rarely see poems that are this strong all the way through. It opens with:

Their branches reach out
heated            imploring

mounds of grass like dry
          skirts twisted
around ankles

And ends with this beautiful, spacial sense that transforms in to multiple things by the final word:

his trees beckon us
up                 blue wind-swept heaven

at the edge
         of the canvas

                   on the verge of escaping