June 30th, 2016

I recall the day I gave up being a tree
and became a man a hundred years of 
dreaming drunk on earth the daily lifting of
the sun light as a balloon and releasing it 
the sole occupation of standing 
an anchor for the chain of the sky to spin on.
then the whispering like mice: to grow 
faraway eyes to tend a bloody
heart. I don't regret the shedding of
bark more than I do clothing before the
taste of your kiss, your face an oval in
the center of my world of which I am
no longer a center, for when you are a
tree the whole word moves around
you and when a person you are moved 
by the world. I'll admit I was disappointed
that a leap does not constitute wings
that one could dive in and still drown. 
I wanted to be everything that truly moved
bird and fish and lover but in the end 
got one and found it enough. But. 
even in the house that we built of my
old bones even in this bed we wrapped and
rolled and knotted in I have often
stared through the window in the owl- 
silenced night at the shadow of branches
spreading stars in their thin fingers and recall
for so long I said nothing was nothing had 
no name but Here. it's just me remembering now
and again when I put a finger to my lips 
and lovingly breathe in everything 
I once breathed out.
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