Thursday, April 21, 2005


my hands are covered in the soil,
the decomposition of thousands
of years of history, as i dig down deep
towards the roots of this tree
in the branches of which i like a
bird have lived, migrating further west
toward the sun setting orange in the cracks of the sky

roots that grow deep in this texas soil
grafted with a missouri transplant
and i, the odd branch from across
the ocean have been tied onto this strong
and sturdy tree

but it's starting to rot in places and nests
are now growing empty as the
birds fly away and scatter the seeds
of a brave new world
these roots are decaying to nourish the soil
to feed the seedling that will sprout in its place
and bring new birds to nest in the
shadow of its leafy green wings


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