Search

oak tree

There was the day

you knew to call it an oak

as it towered gently over you.


Gentle because it is a comforter,

and old — shade and wisdom

like our grandparents,

our great-grandparents.


Beneath, a child like me,

is a broad-leafed tree I do not know,

despite rustling the pages

of the field guide.


It carries large flat leaves

with three distinct lobes but no

rough edges — varicose veins,

it seems stressed, tired by life.


And above that but before the sky,

touching canopy is, I think, an ash tree.


Recent Posts

See All

a better question

In the end, I suppose the better question is: how does the ocean feel about us?

FOLLOW ME

I emerged from my door and carried into my present moment the quivering skeleton of a whom this poem is for, a what is trying to be accomplished. We are the escape artists. We point the way out. We pa

damascus

I haven’t asked him for his number because now I am known, now the I-I-I am afraid, now I am up there on the raggedy cross with Christ: no longer unimaginable (so a little breathless), no number, no d

+1 (202) 384-5561

  • Visit my Facebook page!
  • Visit my Instagram

©2017 by The Kilele Project. Proudly created with Wix.com