The Keys on the Trees, a Poem


The Keys Hung on the Branches, How Many Insides Can they

Open in the Trees?

I Kept Believing, that Flowers Held No Secrets

Flowers, Showed Themselves, like How the Daggers

Showed Its Sharpened Edges

not my drawing…

But the Seasons for Bloom Had, Already Passed

At This Time, the Silence from the Trees Gives Us the Chills

Maybe it’d Still Felt that Deep Rooted Emotion as well as its

Toothaches.  Can’t Wait Until Spring time, and all that’s left for it, were the Memories, on those, Bitten Open Lips

The Whispers of Trees Won’t Wake the Ants in Their Embraces.  Under the Moon

I’d Stroked Every Inch of Bark

not my picture…

Beating it with Keys, Tickling Their Armpits

Until the Woods Started Screaming

The Crows, Ravens All Screamed and Escaped

How can I change the Dizziness from the Year Rings into the

Mirage-Like Ripples?

Or, Would it Rather Keep Struggling, Making Itself into Vines

Tying up the Summers, and, Drain Dry the Trunks, Making Them

Into Dried Up Medicines?

Into the Abdomen of the Trees.  The Juices Came out

All Over My Body.  The Screams Cut Through the Night

Tearing Open, What is, the Abysmal Darkness that Belonged, to Just the Stars

Here, there’s that desire to make time go slower, but also that sense of helpless, to stop the time from moving forward, and, you’re just, stuck in this vicious cycle, of wanting to slow time down, feeling depressed that you couldn’t, losing more time in life…


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