March 03, 2007

being trees

Marisa sent me the following poem, with this attached note: "I thought of you when I read this poem, and thought I would pass it on." I'm so glad she did!


Forest

She said now then
I would like each of you

to make a tree
with your body

and we were delighted
to forget everything

we had learned all day
about staying within the lines.

Standing in our numbered rows
we stretched and stretched, embracing

the enormous air, our fingers
splayed, heels rising up

off the floor, bodies grunting, sweating,
trembling to be trees. One

poked another in the head
with a pencil. Sharp branch

he announced. How we loved
being trees.



Mike White

1 comment:

Marisa said...

Thanks for the props, yo! It begins as a good poem, and then the sharp stick part just makes it awesome!
Glad you enjoyed!