Of Your Time

Which is better of a tree? Which is better use of me?

To speak of its presence? Saying, “How strong its solemness, standing tall, withstanding all?” Asking you to close your eyes and opine on how it could be that such a tree only sometimes sways and creaks, whilst all creatures around it move about, busily in elsewhere mode?

Or shall I show this photograph…evidencing all my skill? See here my theft of light, my manipulation of mirrors? All the while holding my breath, knowing all I’d offer you was a lie to your eye, an insult to its blessed, innate sense of depth, of dimension?

Walk we instead, up to this friend and touch, even taste its barked bend? It won’t mind! Trace your finger to its roots-there’s solemnity! Follow, follow upward eyes, leaves dancing in the wind. Shading, singing as a friend?


Put wordless before me a photograph


If it tastes of all you hope I’ll receive

Then will my skin feel the blanket surround 


The sound of your shore can make glad these ears

Though the flash of your most honest scene blinds me

I’m left kissed by the scent of altitude 

widening hollow

Photographs and conversations
The primary goal
Then all they would lead to as well

Upon looking right
There was nothing there
And ahead, just the back of a frame

How long can one breathe in
The dust from the haste
The despair from being left in it