The Tree stands
  tall
    noble
Just as he has for a hundred years
Just as he will for a hundred more.
But time passes differently for a tree

He looks upward
  his boughs
    his branches
They touch the sky
Brush the clouds
Forming their own cloud

His leaves are the purest verde
  a halo
    a crown
He is lord of the oaks
King of the trees
Pride of the forest


He looks down at the common folk
   the maples
     the birches
Their stature only a fraction of his own
He looks down kindly at his subjects
All is well

He sees something else
   small
     deformed
Stubbier than even the shortest willow
It has probably come to pay homage to him
Bow before the King of Trees

But it just stands there
   hands on hips
     chin raised
The very picture of defiance
He just stands there
Looking at him

The King bristles
   the impudence
     the impertinence
How dare this little sprout
The King thunders at this puny creature
His commands go unheard

The creature takes something from its back
   is that...
     wood?
It looks like a branch
Has this beast dared to form an object
From the flesh of a tree?

There is something attached to the branch
   sharp
     shiny
He's never seen anything like it
What blasphemy is this?
What could such a thing be for?

The creature pulls back the branch
   aims
     swings
It connects
Against the Tree
There is a dull chuntk


All of a sudden
   pain
     pain
Unimaginable pain
What just happened?
He screams


(chuntk)


The King of Trees is screaming
   crying
     begging
His subjects watch in silence
Stunned to see their lord behaving like this
This creature must be a demon


(chuntk)


The Demon swings again
   again
     again
He does not hear the King's cries
He continues with his work
Whistling a merry tune

(chuntk)

The Mighty Oak feels only pain
   Inescapable
     Inexorable
His branches shake in agony
Some of his jadey leaves fall to the ground
The Demon tramples them

(chuntk)

The King feels his sap rush out
   burbling
     gushing
Staining the earth blow
Pumping wildly from his death wound
He is sapping to death

(chuntk)

Time crawls past
   weeks
     years
Or maybe just minutes
Time passes differently for a tree
Especially when he's being tortured

(chuntk)

The Tree shudders
   leans
     falls
What's happening?
The impact is the worst part
He lands with a bouush

What just happened?
   he fell
     he landed
He looks down his trunk
He sees a stump
HIS stump

The King of the Forest screams
   a curse
     a blight
A plague upon this thrice acursed demon
May a thousand locusts eat his leaves
May his roots rot into dust for what he has done

The other trees join him
   mourning
     weeping
Lamenting their fallen leader
But the demon ignores them
Pretending not to hear

The lord of the oaks yells at his subjects
   commanding
     pleading
Telling them to shut their eyes
They should not witness this
Should not see their King in such a state

They obey
  eyes shut
    backs turned
They will not embarrass their king
Will not cause him any more humiliation
Will not watch him die

He knows he is dying
  water
    nutrients
They came through the earth
Through his dismembered roots
Without them, it's only a matter of time

Under the pain, he feels something else
   thirst
     hunger
Without his roots, he cannot pull in water
Cannot initiate photosynthesis
Cannot live

The Tree lies there
   low
     humiliated
For how long, he doesn't know
But then, Time passes differently for a tree
Especially when he's dying

Chant with me one last time time, share with me this last swig of fermented heresy
Let me fall with the cricket cracket of me first love
Me father's bethrotal to ye
Aye, she weeps intoxicated on Ægir's brew
Rabid splinters exalting my blood across these toiled expressions of me last wafting conquer
A failure
I've failed you mother, father
Me flask holds no Giant's blood
I bare no Dragon's horn atop this acursed head
Me crew gone with the steel of swords and axes brewed in their sacrifice, their blood spilled in a lust for carnage
This spirit grows weak like the twinkle of yer dying stars, Nótt
Yet mother holds me, her sway gentle
And father covers me, his directions clear

One column.
Two Sentences.
You choose the headline.
Deplatform and silence.
Coerce and align.

One month,
Two calamities.
Refresh and it's gone.
Nothing remains
in focus for long.

Digest the digests;
digests of every kind.
Fruitless echo-chambers
self-censoring the mind.

Theaters, Airplanes,
Public transit; Empty seats.
Next weekend two protests.
Let me hear you in the streets.

Gamma correct the pores
off the very face of life.
Featureless perfection.
Expression goes under the knife.

Flowers now grow upon flowers
instead of good rain and black loam.
Flowers feeding off fireworks;
Their roots' refusal to go home.

If I am to meet my fate
by my expressions in the past.
Let these words here written
be my very last:

Towards thee I roll.
Thou all-destroying but unconquering whale;
To the last, I grapple thee;
From hell's heart I stab at thee;
For hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.
With broken haul and tattered sail
torn to pieces while still chasing thee.
Sink forever into the violent sea.
Though my fate is now tied to thee.
Thou ****** and acursed whale!