Firewood

Originally posted on O at the Edges:
  ? Firewood For two years the oak loomed, leafless. We had aged together, but somehow I survived the drought and ice storms, the regret and wilt, the explosions within, and it did not. I do not know the rituals of trees, how they mourn a passing, or…

Day 30: Because Blossoms

did i mention i came to the city suspicious? after all every indian of a certain age (yes, indian, to frame this) knows that cities eat indians. of course, there’s the trick. i am anishinabekwe, lnuskw also, and polish by matrilineage. i came looking for some fabled southland that sang to me in dreams all…

Day 22: Giovanni Caboto’s Trees

this morning’s sun, still pentecostal waters new leaves in broad crowned elms adorned, crowns within crowns with magpie nests, wind-riding as my spring-daft hounds cavort i see again the crowd that day our city, post-millennial, had hired an american urban expert to tell us what to need, now that we’d turned that corner into accepting,…