It is misplaced
or misplanted,
the killing tree.
Clinging to the outer edge
of an arc,
a transition,
from one frantic freeway
to another,
at ninety degrees
and leaning,
a handful of weeds
(not even a curb)
away
from the ground down
grooved
concrete.
The killing tree is high and gaunt,
caked with exhaust
and rubber
and brake dust,
a haggard, hovering
chimney sweep
shrouded in soot
from ceaseless fleeting fires.
Scant
defiant
leathery leaves
clutch the stems
against the gruff
and harried howl
of flashing sedans
and sparking coupes,
thundering tractor-trailers
and box trucks.
The killing tree
is waiting.
No medium can unravel
the moniker
or the moment
divined
within its rings.
The killing tree
is patient.
In a city of bassinets
and winebars,
of double doors
and bureau drawers,
there is a killing tree,
rooted in providence
and rising from dust,
there is a killing tree,
unhurried
and unhungry,
a blameless
brooding
killing tree,
overlooked,
limbs outstretched,
to welcome
someone
home.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
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9 comments:
We weave in and weave out, but all the time, there is the tree, standing patiently. Thank you for this one.
The tree is chilling in its brooding aspect, waiting and biding its time.
rooted in providence
rising from dust...
unhurried
and unhungry...
You have the ability to take the normal and make it special, in this case chillingly so.
This unobtrusive tree - unassuming in its existence - is lying in wait for someone....patiently.
We don't know who or when - but someone will hit that tree....
No medium can unravel
the moniker
or the moment
divined
within its rings
Now that is how a poet says it!!!!
Very eerie and sinister - in a good way...lol!
Oh, and that ending...you always know how to bring it home, Joaquin.
You have left nothing out of this poem!! It is all there.
Excellent images and a plot that leads to the heart of the tree -- just waiting for someone -- reminds me of what happen one night less than a block away from the house.
Cheers to you !!!
I saw a lone bluebonnet once defying one desolate spot of median. Every morning I saw it for the 3 weeks it shivered there, it always caught me by surprise.
But the killing tree, that's one determined reaper, for sure, and told awfully well by your words.
I love how this piece flows. Ex: This line:
The killing tree is high and gaunt,
caked with exhaust
and rubber
and brake dust,
a haggard, hovering
chimney sweep
shrouded in soot
from ceaseless fleeting fires.
such imagery! such contrasts btw the tree that brings life and feeds and the tree that takes it away..
i held onto this from start to finish..
great piece!!
As far as "blood and irony" goes, I'm intrigued and think you should post it right away. I appreciate your asking, though. My poem is in desperate need of a re-write, but I've abandoned the topic altogether and moved on to lighter moods for the time being. Though I do hope to compile a book one day of all the poems along that theme (a huge waste of my time and any reader's, but still something I'd like to do). And I would call it "Down"...
Mixing the aspects of nature and artificial, and bringing the words to life !!
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