Posts tagged ‘trees’

October 22, 2017

blanket dawn

layered orange crimson and green hue,
cut through rectangle windowframe view.
one sleepy town awakes in fogs and horns
to a night’s black fast escaping morn.

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December 26, 2016

tree removal, i wonder what they pay

a tree removal company rolled up in two trucks in front of my mother’s house. one with a hydraulic lift to scale the tree, the other with a chipper to change its form. they both sat on ice; my mother talked of salting the drive. we watched from the window, Bella the doodle most concerned. earlier i had noted morning light orange of the highest limbs of trees and a bluff black and white back drop before anyone could be called awake, no stirring. and men jumped from their trucks–muffled steps resounded, figured the positioning, lifted, tied ropes, ran trailers into the snowy ground and began to saw, saw, saw. the owner, anal about his law, came out to discuss the future of each blade and which way trees fall in the city. and then it happened. the fall. no “timber” for timber. silence as a shock wave, through the centre, through the top of the tree sending it swaying in a sickening bow back and then forth. i imagined a whole life ruined for a moment; i imagined the rings of a tree and its age are only revealed after death. nextly. chips and dust and exhaust and noise and cutting and chopping and tossing happened in enough cool to make each exhale seen, almost tangible. some authoritative hollers. aside from that, i wonder, how they do it. i could cut down trees too. i wonder what they pay.

April 2, 2016

notice.

The treetops spar where we are,
sounding inspiration on lost occasion.

November 1, 2015

Taking in the Forest

Leave colors inexplicable
Roots simply acquiesced
Bark came torn to forcibly
Counting the rings within

June 3, 2015

Moving Wood in West Lakeland

Wood laid in a pile,
brought down in the days before;
years of life soon ash.

April 21, 2015

Education Vs. Nature

Sat in a classroom,
boxy and smug,
to

hear the whole world passionately explained,
exactly described,

as
it happens before
and without us
just
outside.

January 23, 2015

What Waste (Local Print)

On these dead trees,
On this black ink:
It makes a man worried,
It makes a man think.

November 15, 2014

Paper for Paper

We are dictated by ink and dead trees.

We create paper,
To be judged on paper,
To attain paper,
In hopes that that paper will put paper into our pockets;

-Paper for paper.

We are dictated by ink and dead trees;
-This paper,

Any way you call it.

***

Ink:: “Ink can be a complex medium, composed of solvents, pigments, dyes, resins, lubricants, solubilizers, surfactants, particulate matter, fluoresces, and other materials. The components of inks serve many purposes; the ink’s carrier, colorants, and other additives affect the flow and thickness of the ink and its appearance when dry.”

Paper: “Paper is a thin material produced by pressing together moist fibers, typically cellulose pulp derived from wood,rags or grasses, and drying them into flexible sheets. Paper is a versatile material with many uses. Whilst the most common is for writing and printing upon, it is also widely used as a packaging material, in many cleaning products, in a number of industrial and construction processes, and even as a food ingredient – particularly in Asian cultures.”

October 17, 2014

Moments in Autumn

Brittle leaves chased round a bus,
Clouds layered dark, hung above.
Traffic lights; sparked and changed,
Trees kept at bent in long headwind.
Walking stiff with faces downcast,
In sweaters—sweats; cotton warmth.
Moving towards bleak and gray day,
Chilled in each windowsill opaque;
Book-bags, pumpkin spice, cigarettes, wait…

October 3, 2014

Seasonable Clock

Even the morning seems acutely somber
Broad clouded skies hold steady longer
Green leaves thick ripped from their place
Void departed relatives we save nigh space
Juxtapose this deep cutting- chilled contrast
Waiting for summer’s waning neb to fast pass
Vexed by cruel and unrelenting, stiff nature
Fool-heartedly with their lives they wager
On a single day we wish to stay the same
On forcible winds we wish to have changed
Man can live amongst this time and watch,
As he winds the seasonable swift ticking clock.