The Trees Have Been My Friends

The trees have been my friends.

When oblivious businessmen
go to their upscale gyms and afterwards
clink their glasses of red wine
together over steak dinners
I will be able to say
I was nestled in a house of impoverished people
where I dreamed the ancient dreams
of the microcellular arrangements
from a very long time ago
and there beside it,
though not in sterile air conditioned
there, on the stagnant outskirts of an
industrially polluted city,
there the trees have still come to live
and the trees,
the trees still loved me,
the trees still loved them,

and the trees have been my friends.

Ripe Womanly Presence

In the summer
I will want to jump
from the city bridges
into the polluted river below
to celebrate
the carcinogenic world
that men have built
from their grand manly

then I’ll climb out,
walk home
to be loved properly by you
and your ripe womanly

Certain Transformations

What are we going to do?
We could write.
We could write for others.
We could go to space.

Going to space is the same as
writing for others.

It depends on which type of
“for others”
you’re talking about.

You mean,
to create financial gains for others,
then yes, it is a lot like going to space,

like that vast starry infinitude that is
and all those fields of stars.
This is what it really means to be a

But to write “for others”
in the sense that you bear their
weight and pain,
well that is actually like going to
space too,
but it’s really more like the creation of
space itself,
the creation of new ways of existence,

like not just generating profit for some
creative goon or stealthy businessman
in the early 21st Century,

but carrying many generations across
the stars by the creation of new
gravity fields
over many tens of thousands of years
and certain transformations.