I am not this tree.

by | Feb 14, 2011 | Blog, My Poems

Where did these bricks
come from –

perhaps they were trees
and olive branch

burned

in a santuary window.
As though to throw off

the jack-in-the-box image,
the mouth of an auditorium

the Keynote is the inversion of a ghost

– what do they aspire to?
A tree, a lime –

burning with seeds –

burning in the window.
You do not exist.

You do not place the flowers
on this four-legged

coffee table.