The tree in the dawn is:
A bronze statue.
A collection of clattering crows,
Besieged, a storm of ink
(they strut, they stab
to break loose.
a quickstart batter of fright, is
the figment, that which sent the birds sprawling)

The tree in the dawn is:
Exuberant ebony versus deathly whitewash,
A cold sculpture
Standing.
(levying the imperviousness
of blank-white backdrops,
a darkness against-
reaching all extents of black and white.)

The tree in the dawn is:
A frightening monster!
...A dark urchin tower,
-aquiver with black tentacles
And squawking feathery runoff
...A beast with its metaphysical yawp
Thrashing every way, a mass of limbs
(drips a blackness off it,
A fluid like dark soot water
   cleansing in dawn light)

The tree in the dawn is:
A tree.
Nothing more.  Nothing less.
     (now that the sun has risen)

I
Feast your eyes upon this current
A history of things long forgotten,
Eraser marks-abundant smears
On this current.
This is the mauve universe,
A purgatory of notions from which
No ideas will come
Filtering through like soap bubbles,
Piercing our dimension’s pores.

II
It exists in no dimension,
But extends to all-
A great river of a current
To carry our notions through.
What once filled the hearts of men
Now discarded, and carried on a zephyr
As pieces of notebook paper
Torn out, and the pages made new again.
The current never stops. It moves
Slowly onward towards vast eternity-
Our discarded notions move to it
Like lost souls to a one way train.
An eternal business this current makes

III
Wasted dreams-
Splendid wonders-
Day old notions-
Worn ideas-
Forgotten memories-
Journey to a one way train
Journey like lost souls.
The murmuring current,
Is upon her slovenly children
Whisking to and whispering fro
The places eternally vanished.
The current, unbraced over shadows and glows-
The long...sonorous...multitudinal current,
Being loudly everywhere,
Straddles our dimension’s pores

Smiles the waving soul,
Touching on simple things
Such as looking in
From the outside
Feeling a blur of
Banjos and pianos,
A smile loosened from
The pit o’ the soul,
And a twinkle in my eye,
A dusty road to look down
So I see the way things were
And I smile in good humor
Taking the road,
And tossing the rocks of ages

Curdled in its darkly *****
Cries its tears, so sorrowful tune
The age so tangled in its ruinous mane
Skin as pale as the horrid moon

A chromescape of blacks and whites
Silvers and grays
Still and quiet as the gaze of death
Suffocated, dehydrated daze
A blurry maze

This drouth of life
Its unbearable home
Prowler, creature, beast of strife
The past engraved in its grayful eyes
An everlasting ex-humanity

Crawling, scratching
Screaming for the living water
Howling the pains of a thousand wounds
Praying in vain for hope and rapture
And the soothing soon

There once was a cow and a goose
And the goose thought the cow was a moose
Cause he had dropped his glasses
In a pit of molasses
And he couldn't get them loose

The burly winds, coursing through the trees
In the barren atmosphere, on the frosty grounds
Every inch a plethora of snow
The leaves have fallen and gone, the oaks
Are now bouquets of sticks
They reach to the cloudy depths of a January sky
The sweet earth is frozen and hard
The winds are now a river
Fresh and frostbitten
Drowning the world
All of this a freezing symphony

The summer seems a moving picture in your mind
Days stretched out like lifetimes, fields of memories inscribed
-In the tree bark
-In the uplifting smooth air
And the sun
It is the sun that beats your downcast eyes
You revisit memory lane time and time again
Reading the memory inscribed on your
Walking path-remember?
When Johnny stuck his tongue to a frozen playground pole?
Or Kyle's crush on Katie in the 5th grade?
And such things strike as children's laughter
The times when childhood flowed like water,
A fountain of youth those years
Of which you have had your share
And the memories blossom fruitfully
Although, now, you drink from a trickle
And now the days are shorter-
But you sometimes pretend, you are
Only gone away for a short while