#954 - slow rocket

 

17.viii.22

954

3.227

slow rocket

on a planet close to home

get well poem for Angie Contini

 

the best way to the sky is a tree

it’s holding the air up

(a tree is drunk most of the time)

 

takes off

keeps its feet on the ground

 

speechless for a riddle

takes a rise

will take the piss

here’s someone standing up to stiff breezes

 

always here and always on the way

holds up a crown for the sky

 

tree is teaching

spirit winged to

tells a way up

 

there’s fire escape

there’s a lift

 

forlorn where the sun was lost

 

a tree is dreaming up for stars

and clouds

for arcs of flight

for glide and fall

for scramble

 

someone filches therein

someone is getting away

 

time is deep in the tree

it travels

 

who lives this?

who goes there?

 

it’s a race to the light

and never stop reaching

(tree steals a march on time)

 

up from moss rock

from all fours

from where fell the rain

 

deep as where tree drinks

a dust of seed connects

 

and sure of foot

yet it will fall

 

once, do you know

there were many more

 

it’s only in death you’d see the rings

 

odd passages in there too

we’ll never know all the tricks

 

a tree is where it’s from