As I see it, the only way
to get out of a seamless tree
is gently, through the roots:
then gently slide between the shoots
of grass on the lea:
then finally come out into day.
Were it up to me
(and were it possible)
I think I'd stay
within the tree.
Electric flashes streak the summer sky,
the night-rain hides behind a mountain peak.
Across the room a plumeria smile, but I
turn away and do not speak.
No, not shyness nor impotence--why,
just yesterday the girl across the hall--
but no matter, the night is long and dry,
much talk, coffee, little pasty things to eat;
remember Oedipus, Philoctetes, Prometheus, Satan:
all of whom had problems. We are ennobled by defeat.
UCSC | Arts