Dead trees know, being
wind-taught and carved
by time. No longer desparate
wih foliage, their sap
clotted, roots unclenching,
they point flayed trunks,
unburdened of all
save one or two branches,
like Chinese characters
brushed upon the rice paper sky
or spastic crosses.
It costs them everything.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Ethics of Rhetoric in Times of War
What we say matters. And the way we say it matters. This is especially true in times…
How the State Failed Noelia Castillo
On March 26, Noelia Castillo, a twenty-five-year-old Spanish woman, was killed by her doctors at her own…
The Mind’s Profane and Sacred Loves
The teachers you have make all the difference in your life. That they happened to come into…
