in some other life
before rome
rampaged bloody
through gaul
in that other life
i was a druid
tree worshipper
listening to
leaves whispering
telling the wind’s secrets
even now
i stop when i hear
that familiar rustle
straining to make out
those faint words
Tag: tree
shed skins (20160807)
the eucalyptus has shed
its bark
now a smooth white
shushing like sandpaper
under my palm
it stretches fifty feet or more
and twists as it grows
a split the width of my finger
the length of my forearm
rises up the trunk
how simple it seems
to grow this way
add a ring
lose some skin
start over each year
praying for rain
and easy winds
the coldness of the moon (20160711)
the feelings appear
like a sudden moon
shining in the night sky
darkness ripped away all at once
but the stars are so small
and so very far away
far away from me
far away from each other
i will own this sadness
though it’s not authentic
this melancholy that turns
like a record in a jukebox
that spreads its roots
like a tree growing
from my chest, bursting through
bones and sinew
i will carry it
because letting go is cowardice
and facing it is cowardice
and writing this is cowardice
—–
for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #45
OWN | TURN | SHINE | TREE | STAR
Poem 20151109
bare
peach tree
a promise
empty but not
exactly
lies or
words
and now the all leaves
once green and dotted with buds
–fall, and fall yellow
—
Poem 20150812
the tree falls
almost without a sound
or without enough sound
would be a better way
to say it
the slow leaning
the uprooting
the huge tractor
pushing it over
a bully on a school
playground
to make way for
boxlike houses
not a single bird flies
out of the branches
maybe they abandoned it
long before the heavy
machinery showed up
clever birds
Poem 20150507
i saw a fire burning in the sea
in the sea
in the sea
and within the fire grew a tree
grew a tree
grew a tree
its leaves were flames
its fruits were gems
and one of these a diadem
i saw an angel upon the shore
upon the shore
upon the shore
and in its hand a sword it bore
sword it bore
sword it bore
the edges of the blade were eight
made by heaven’s mysterious art
and with the blade it pierced my heart
i saw a tiger in the night
in the night
in the night
its skin was dark but its stripes were bright
stripes were bright
stripes were bright
its mouth was filled, a froth of blood
its feet were hands like those of men
its eyes were ice, its breath a wind
Poem 20150402
the cat
sits at the glass door
not making a sound
just watching
moving only her head
as the hummingbirds
zoom in
and
out
of view
her ribs rise and
fall
and she watches the phoebes hop in the grass
and up into the limbs of the young avocado tree
sporting their little black mohawks
and she thinks–
if cats think like this–
if this door weren’t here…
if this glass weren’t between us…
Poem 20150322
falling
a leaf does it
though i almost
never see the action
just the evidence
brown and split on the ground
tracked in wet and flat
on the bottom of my shoe
and always always near
the entryway
just in time for the cat to spot it
and in this drought
i try to feel guilty
for watering my trees
but i can’t work it up
because these are my trees
and their leaves
are
Poem 20150226
spring is still just a word
though the temperatures soar
into the seventies and eighties
winter is the official season
but you can’t reason with a tree
and i hope the bees are not loafing around
Poem 20150106
after the fog lifted
we could see the damage
the car had done to the tree
struck a glancing blow
the tree lay on its side
uprooted
and fully intact
as if to protest its own doom
but the next day
city workmen
with chainsaws and wood chippers
reduced it to a noisy memory
the smell of resin
and a hole in the ground
Words and Feathers 