a tree said to me

if you can’t speak

to trees

then how come this

tree in front of

me is asking me

to say hi?

his face is tired

and his shoulders are broad

but hunched

and his mustache

is hardly trimmed

he has eyes cast deep

a nose that droops

and legs limberly

thin strong too

but with all this

to me he

says he is sad

that the building

behind is unkind

and the cars

that roar through

are quite rude

he says the sun

takes time to

shine because of

modern architecutre

and as it sets

off go his bets

but somewhere

i see a smile

a sucked in grin

a reminder to

chuckle

his little tune

ready to be spun

nature’s last breath

he said go home

be simple

Stopping through the Angels

On an eve, a
great warm wondrous
winter eve,
in a car on
a trip, in a lane
on the road-
stuffy car,
stuffy air,
warm green
saturated, stuffy
Orange county air-
stuffy stuffy stuffy stufy
Orange county,
greedy air-
greed fueled by church,
church field by state,
state fueled by money,
driving through while
stopping through-
nowhere to wash
my hands,
nowhere to go to
the bathroom,
just red lights
and white lights and
honks and burps and
hipsters,
advertising modern-
beautiful advertising-
bulbs of advertising,
bursting with stupidity.