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DEAD TREE
 
 
 A shout of wood to the high sky, the trunk erupts from rock
 mountain; limbs shoot upward and outward away from the trunk
 like arms wanting the heavens. Like the old trunk, they are pitted
 and cracked, brushed barkless, blown white by blue winds.
 
 His roots are driven into granite and dense darkness, immoveable
 and staunch. Their power to pierce stone is patterned like the
 limbs above, so that heaven and earth are bonded by his
 androgynous trunk of conjunction.
 
 An ancient intermediary, he is ethereal; is evolved in sky and
 mountainscape. He taunts time, continuing to age even in death,
 a nude gnostic, gnarled and noble.
 
 Is he really dead?
 Did he send his seed
 Before his issue sapped?
 Will not another ram rub him?
 Shall not an eagle, resting,
 Crown him once more?
 

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copyright circa 1970s, 2007 Elias Alias

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