January 5, 2016

a tree here, a tree then, told me when I was...

a tree here, a tree then, told me when I was...

demanded remand 
standing brush-less 
eyes no nose, leaf cycle clothes
knows blind to smell cannot tell 
which season it was  
before I became 
fable fob piece meal loam 
a watch found one evening 
drunkenly ambling on home, 
romancing after-midnight(s) 

there is vomit 
in a bucket 
I left it behind me 
I am enjoying 
its faint stench 
wafting and waxing 
in slow finger-lette 
ribbon unwanted(s) 

under my candy-

Winter knows 
my minute 
by minute begs 
knows how much
a skeleton inherits needs 
natal and seed 
to root and wings...

I suppose we all count rings 
curl into our memories 
playing and praying 
at the insides of trees 
places where, we can 
peel ourselves 
back, bark to blood...

we define each life 
I suppose 
in given chase 
of whatever skinned us 
to these bones first
we rattle off 
in recollection, the 
feast and limb songs 
of our soul, the what 
of a moment that 
every so often 
in the lifetimes 
of trees 
comes to let us know 
we reap what we sow and 
we too, can and do grow 
despite ourselves 
into someone 
who can appreciate 
the beginning,  
middle and
end of a poem...


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