Friday, April 11, 2008


in celebration of wood


when you are ten
vacation in California
red woods echo beauty
we can sit in oak now
write a thank you note
to wood on paper over coke


one time for Halloween
I wore um a blue dress and a tulip apron
a kerchief on my head
and I had yellow wooden shoes
with a windmill carved in them
they were hard to walk in
I took them off

over the fireplace
at my grandparent’s living room
an ornament of driftwood
is the focal point
I’m not sure where it came from
but it’s always been there
they might have found it
on a beach

me and my sister
we used to call eachother
sticks and dirt
I was sticks

you know what
here’s something about wood
when I was like very young
I would go to my grandparent’s
house when I would sit on the toilet
in the bathroom, it looked like a face
in the wood
you know in the grain of wood


we want cardboard to be wood
we look for it

real wood
it knows its alive
loves without holes
understands it
as big
a house in an elm
made of wood
from a different tree
they might be friends
in former lives

the nina the pinta
the santa maria
bridged this ocean
carved by Spanish fingers

if forests are blank
clarinets miss their reeds
totems without poles
no sawdust mulch and picnic tables
rollercoasters crates & barrels
think about shade
no newspaper hats
where would those beehives hang
termites couldn’t feed their kids
fires cannot catch
we probably would
have balloons
but they’d be breathless
I’m unsure if there’d be twine
or bowling pins


I broke my arm falling out of a tree
well I’ve gotten a few splinters
we forgive you wood

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