![\"\"](\"http:\/\/monikaphoto.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/tree.jpg\" "\\"_tree\\"")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Earlier in the year. Later part of summer, which might have as well been the beginning. Or middle. I’m still astounded how quickly it passed. Tagged on either side by departure.
\nWhat does it mean when trees grow sideways?<\/p>\n
Here’s a poem by Stephen Dobyns, a poet whose work I discovered by a fortunate accident around the same time pictured above:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
CONNECTIONS<\/p>\n
Two days of listening to a police radio
\nand everyone one around me is a killer. I have
\nwalked this far, I must go slower. People
\nhang onto bodies that won’t be with them
\nlong. Their own and all the others.
\nGive me your hand. I hold it like liquid
\nwith the same result. My own hand drips
\nlike water from a tree after a short rain.
\nGreen becomes the color of decay. The forest
\nsurronds us.<\/p>\n
Standing on the fire tower
\nin the state park, I see a doe moving
\nbeneath me. All twigs are pointing at it.
\nThe ground can swallow it. If I shout
\nits sky will crumble. I refuse to breathe.
\nNearby, hunters with bows and arrows rehearse
\ntheir comic lines: Who will grace our fenders?
\nWho will hang upside down in our immaculate
\nfront yards? Their arrows have captured
\nthe wind and its music. Their faces are like
\ndrums, or clocks ticking. Their faces drip-
\nthe noise of static on a radio. If I shout,
\nmy own sky will splinter. Silence? I fill
\nmy lungs like a swimmer diving to the bottom.<\/p>\n