(Prelude)
They told me that before I walked, I climbed like ivy
on the backs of those old enough to know what it
felt like to support something.
I hope you’re tall enough to climb
because staying close to the ground
won’t get either of us anything but
fleshy fingers and pale legs that haven’t
felt the embrace of branches.


The Manzanita grove sits squat and clustered,
heavy grandparents, gossiping about which child had
the best education.
Strips of light- spilling through oval and jade leaves
spread out like dough between four branches.
“Well, my girl has got the legs to be a dancer”
“Mine has roots that lead right back to the Queen of England”
They fall asleep midday, the chatter having
made their red bark peel.
Try to tip toe between the trunks or they will
wake and keep you around to fatten you up
with a combination of *** roast and home grown herbs
slightly wilted from too much time in the sun.



greedy fool who should bite his tongue and try
climbing an oak for a change in perspective.
Stradling the trunk with slender legs
bark scraping the unscathed skin.
Pulling upward for filtered light always
partial always
half the story.