The Poem Tree by Jacob Russell

The Poem Tree

THE POEM TREE I. There’s a dead tree on Passyunk I write on the dead tree The Dead Tree (a poem) The tree is DEAD it is a Dead Tree that has died & is NOT ALIVE now

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just dead I hang some leaves on the dead tree with fine copper wire & some aluminum can tabs & some red plastic rings from my Spirit Stick & a green ribbon & a single pigeon feather from my Spirit Stick (like a bird has come to pay respects, and left a card) I think the tree feels better even though it’s dead I know I would II.  I walk to the bench by the poem tree I affix 5 poems & aluminum tabs & colored circles

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walk north out of the shade sit on the blue wall in sunlight under the oak whose leaves have only begun to turn the oak tree the wind sounds like water waves breaking on a sandy shore sixty years ago wind borne to this city street this wall tugging at the poems the little tree a mast on the deck of the earth sailing through time

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* * * III. Blue Wall I sit on the blue wall by the bench on Passyunk I watch people pass I watch them pass the dead tree the dead tree with the poem written on the trunk & the aluminum tabs & the leaves dangling in the wind from fine copper wire They don’t see the dead tree they don’t see the poem or the aluminum tabs or the leaves dangling from fine copper wire they don’t see me I wonder what would happen if I were naked 117

sitting on the blue wall I wonder what would happen if I took off all my clothes but I don’t I would be cold & people would see me for what I am my old man’s body made of aluminum tabs & leaves dangling from fine copper wire & cops would arrest me and treat me badly & put me on a list & I would never be allowed to see another child for the rest of my life I cover myself with leaves and fine copper wire with aluminum tabs with invisible wings spread wide to hide what I am what I have become

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IV. Night Visit (The) Spirit Stick (I dare not call it mine) -trembles before the Poem Tree poor brother dressed in tatters, ribbons of honor and shame dangling poems cupped (like hands in prayer) by scrotal cards words seed the night invisible invade the eye begets a soul, a second voice barking like a dog coughing breathless faint synecdoche of vision

waking waking

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from old bodies borne a will a way awake!

V. Searching for Lost Poems Lost, then ? wind or taken poems left hanging old men speak Italian did they?

dangling three

See who took them search street gutter, walk the parking lot No sign the tree as symbol, then? lifeless moving blue on blue cards against the sky Newly written 120

then now wind whipped clack & flick on branch on barkless trunk flips breaks loose three poems or four unclipped windborn wild breathless free

Jacob Russell

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