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TREE. volume 1. issue 6. Heat

Merced, CA


Summer Heat A.T. Kirby 13

Potato Sam and Skyrim Rap Kat Crippen


Adore Amore Moon Trent


Nocturnal Emissions K Chico


Geese Elizabeth McMunn足Tetangco


A Falling Leaf Chris E. Rockas


Anybody Wesley Golangco


Life Thundervoice


Merced Colloquial Dima Medvedko


The Worm King Wesley Golangco


2 I'm An Idiot余 You're A Parasite Chanel Weaver 3

Hell Bridgette Womack

4 Alive and Awake in the Idaho Sawtooth Brad Hachten 5 (ii) Rachel Martin 5

A Cooling Spell W.B.St.C

6 I Faded Kwyn Alice Meagher 8 Burning For You Merced, CA 9 I Heard A Song The Other Day... Leslie E 10 The Final Push Chanel Weaver

Contributor Collage 18

THEME OF THE ISSUE HEAT : Every Mercedian has their own techniques for dealing with the heat. Enduring the heat. Dodging the heat. Love in heat, cigarettes in heat, epiphonies in heat. Agua, por favor. The coolness of night--of coffee shops--of ice--relieves and spurs rejoice. As you read, let the HEAT overwhelm you.

THEME OF THE NEXT LIQUID : Flowing freely, like water, shining and clear, smooth and pleasant. Rain drops in our new season of LIQUID poetry. TREE is online! Stay informed on all things TREE! Check out current and past issues of TREE! Submit to future issues! Read rare and limited edition TREE publications! All at:

TREE BRANCHES Tree Branches are blogs, record labels, publications, web sites, musicians--anything culturally associated with Tree. Contact us if you would like to add your project! - poetry blog - poetry blog - record label - poetry blog - poetry blog

Special Thanks.

TREE. Editors William Benjamin St. Clair Melissa Eisner Jordan Cowman Graphic Design William Benjamin St. Clair Front Cover Art Elaine Sachs Back Cover Art Rafael TREE. Logo and CoBa Ad Melissa Eisner

Justin Duckham Marcia St. Clair Ara Casey Omar Chowaiki Frank Cowman Loretta Cash Denise Burkhardt Jason Liske Adam Trelatsky Mike Burton Eleni Valas ...and everyone else who backed TREE. on Kickstarter!

If you're in Merced, and would like to submit to TREE visit

Everyone is welcome! You will be the last to know you're any good.

TREE. editors

Summer Heat those summers before your destruction when the fat little tomatoes burst like the swell of balloons like micro explosions of the taste of sun and dark earth like the smell of their vine so absolute to the nature of themselves to tomatoness you washed my feet a gesture like Jesus “like the ladies downtown� we said in the sweat of the back yard and its nature musk and its water hose mist and lack of gardener and your grandson brewing in my belly we thought there would be more summers like this where we swept across San Joaquin over the glimmering hills and away to something more more than Merced 1

but here we are and you’re barefoot in front of the carnicería fat swollen, asphalt-washed feet tearing a ruby-red velvet frock at the seams “it’s evil” a wet paper bag of a woman who used to be the prettiest girl cruzing 17th who I can’t stand to be near you in the summer heat can’t stand up to your destruction or lower myself like Christ to wash your feet A.T. Kirby 13 I'm An Idiot; You're A Parasite Oh! The fabric of your being, swiftly changing form. It surrounds me, strangles me. It stings me, degrades me, but it resembles me. Oh! the splinters between my fingers. You speak of warmth, yet press with cold. Dull.Dark.Damp. The drippings from the ceiling, are identical to those on top of your skull. Let me be. You are the salt on my tongue as I lay dehydrated in the sun. Chanel Weaver 2

Hell for years i’ve searched, four years i’ve hunted. so naive, i believed there was a space underground that tortured our souls, singed our bones and devoured our innocence. a place with a master who laughed at your pain while he tore you apart. during our most recent encounter, father time sat me in his lap and told me the truth of it all. hell is not a place in which broken spirits fall. we find hell in the dark corners of our own deformed spirits. it is whispering in our ears, tempting our filthiest desires. it is fighting our morality, ensuring that we are our own demise. it is up to us to either fight and survive, or fall into the most terrifying part of ourselves‌ Bridgette Womack


Alive and Awake in the Idaho Sawtooth Stuffing my pack on the bank of the Deadwood River -- a change of clothes, food, water, whiskey – Because the campground’s are full and night’s Coming fast. Sling it all across my back and get hiking Up that ridge and into the brush until the sun And sweat go down.  A mile in I pitch my tent In a clearing out on a spur while the pines sway Into night and a full moon lights slow sips of bourbon At cliff’s edge in song of river wafting up from below. Morning blue, the turqouise waters of Redfish Lake Lap lazy against the shore because there’s no warmth Like the sun at this altitude.  Turning, to those peaks Craggy and jutting into the sky I bound the boulders Up the side of a creek until I come up against granite In a sheer cliff wall.  Just me and the mosquitoes Going down that night.  Up and moving at first light When the granite peak above broods red and I leave The wilderness just as the sun cuts through the trees and shimmers awake the sleeping waters of Pettit Lake. Brad Hachten


(ii) the heat bored me it brought me in circles the circles led to you you, you, you i'm bored it's hot. I was told outside when the heat parched mouths "curious minds wonder alike" which must be why we got along so well for so long. Now the heat is almost gone I am left scrubbing you away from under my nails and from across my lips. Rubbing,    washing,           cleansing my body physically and mentally must be erased of any signs of you ever having inhabiting it. Were it colder, when love lasts longer, the bruises and scratches and marks across my body would echo 'accident' 5

instead of 'you did this to yourself' 'you knew this would come' 'summer is almost over'. I’m clumsy, off balance, lost without your voice to guide me even from afar but the heat is gone so I must be gone, too. Rachel Martin A Cooling Spell In my own mind I find my warmth growing and my thoughts quickening but not without some stunning irritation that stumbles my otherwise uncomfortable confirmation it's better now and the heat subsides. W.B.St.C

I Faded I faded away like the promise you never made You told me you were leaving, but I could have sworn by the mirage in your eyes that I was a finally saved, that you were taking me with you. Deserted in this land of lonely nights playing love washed memories in my weary head. I passed out from drinking the salt water that ran down my face every time you reminded me that this isn't home. Just another stop to something much grander, much richer. I woke up in the morning to find you gone, without a trace. At least you tucked me in before you left. As if you'd known that I was cold, but you had no warmth to give. Kwyn Alice Meagher


Burning For You Like a moth to a flame…” Yeah, that’s us. Heat, you say? You don’t know no heat, unless you know this… You ever been too hot to simply fall asleep next to her? And I’m talking sleep, like legit sleep. Like you need some rest, or watch out world, sleep! And going naked isn’t even an option, cuz that just makes it worse. Heat so hot you gotta put a pillow between you To snuff it out. You know that kind of heat? Like, you’re simply just hugging her, No heat intended, But your temperatures are rising so high, so fast, She pushes you away. “You make me hot!” Oooo… Sah-Sing it Mary J… “Them others don’t Cause baby you’re the one I want…” Yeah, that’s us. You know heat like that? And you wonder why we can’t say goodbye? “It’s the heat,” I say. This heat’s got us burning up inside, And we simply see each other, and that’s all it takes. We cave… You know, like Plato’s cave with the fire inside? Yeah, that’s us. Signed, Burning for You Merced, CA 8

I Heard A Song The Other Day... I heard a song the other day on butterfly kisses that was so touching I wept. It was the first time I wept since watching him overdose the lady in the place where I stayed once. I hope my story didn’t offend anybody. I lived in San Diego from 1967 to ’77, Where they opened a beach called Black’s Beach. It was a nude beach, the first one on the west coast. Me and a twelve-year-old girl – stop tripping, I was eleven – anyway, we went there. They were doing body art. I had a lady paint a streaker on my back, and eyes on my ass. Speaking of eyes and ass, most of you ladies have pretty eyes, and nice asses. Hope I didn’t offend any of you all. Spoken by Leslie E transcribed by Jordan Conneely


The Final Push In May you were standing tall, but the Fall left nothing at all. Your pricks of insanity, Your morbid reality. Your collapses of chaos screaming, this needle will save us! It makes no sense to thirst for something that can never be quenched. A smile delayed, as you succumb to constant replay. What a fool of me to care. What a dark world; I wish I was not aware I'll shed a useless tear, as you take those last mL of suppressed fear. As your river runs dry, just like the day that you died If I ever had one wish; I hope you finally found yourself satisfied. Chanel Weaver


Potato Sam Oh Sam, with such curly locks You make my toes tickle deep inside my socks Because every month or so I hear that song about po-ta-toes Kat Crippen Skyrim Rap As I walk through the forest under the shadow of death I thank the 8 gods for this good over my head 'Cause you know every guard wants to see me dead So I walk real fast and go to Riften instead Kat Crippen Adore Amore How could I adore you? How could I show you that I care? How could I adore you anymore? Anymore? It’s a light here behind this It’s for me burning for you It’s a light but I can’t show you anymore. Anymore. How could I adore you? How could I show you that I care? How could I adore you anymore? Anymore? Moon Trent 11

Nocturnal Emissions I waited. For summer is a sticky time Of difficult sleep My hair in a heap Sequential dampness Traded For cooler showers and Disgust at my body's brine I wanted. For mine is a lonely lover Of moody looks My damaged books Sequential stories Haunted For warmer memories and Disgust for any other I wept. For the unspoken shame Of faded hopes My sweaty ropes Sequential knots Kept For hotter kisses and Disgust of placing blame K Chico


Geese For a week the black-necked geese Have left. They leave In groups shaped like Steepled fingers, pressed together. Air rushes through the middle, and To see them, I look up, I hold A hand over my eyes. You left the day I noticed them. Their voices sound like children’s – I can’t tell what they mean. On the phone, you said you hate To have to wait – you need to move, To sit on dirty airplane seats and watch The clouds get so familiar that they are No longer beautiful. When I hang up though, your smile Is tucked away beneath the muscles of My chest, over my heart: neat folded wings. They stir at night. Elizabeth McMunn­Tetangco


A Falling Leaf The season tis changing and fall is here, Tis time to glance at what may come near. A lonely leaf upon a tall tree, Way above the ground Is awaiting its fate. A strong wind blows with great force with a furor unbound. The leaf holds on as bet it can Avoiding being sent to the ground. But, alas, its grip is gone an it flutters down. It settles n the ground below and awaits its fate. For several months it viewed the world from on high And now its unknown destiny awaits. Chris E. Rockas Anybody And when I was with you, I wrote of love. And when I missed you, I wrote of emptiness. And when I forgot you, I wrote about everything. And now the “you� is anybody, and I can write about love or confusion, about emptiness and fulfillment, about anything and everything. Wesley Golangco 14

Life Life is an interesting word When I exercise my thought on this Word I look at the letters in this word And what I see is the word file As we file the many monumental moments of our existence we call Life, I begin to see the many times that we have to learn the hard way from the lack of a positive overscar in this life that made it their undenying mission and cause to make sure that my financial insecurity was secure and I could be at that point in time able to soar like the eagle High Clearly Seeing what it was that I needed to keep this balance of life at a High Vibration and frequency in this Day in Time. Thundervoice


Merced Colloquial Moonlit clouds whisk across a sky of stars wind breathes softly from a nearby lake far away the glow of houses, cars and behind me- quiet college buildings. It's my college on the prairie, standing small little light on California's valley Ten years time- it will spread out, grow tall but for now, its still a UC on the prairie Go to class with an array of cows, Grazing peacefully across the parking lot Know the faces in the dining hall, see them downtown shopping at the mall. There are still few unknown faces here Just the freshmen who come in in droves Visit once, take in the atmosphere, Take a breath of central valley's smoke Orange trees sway back and fourth, leaves nearly fall Rustling their crowns in friendly greeting Crickets chirp, birds sound their nighttime call Nature starts her courtship of the evening. Dima Medvedko


The Worm King Sometimes you ask the cute girl next door out to dinner, and when she opens her mouth to answer, worms fall out of her mouth and onto the floor. And she acts like nothing’s wrong because, in this world, worms out of mouths is normal, like shoes on feet or gloves on hands, drinks in cups or chips in bowls, worms out of mouths is just the norm. The worms drop into a pile on the ground and get tangled, they wriggle and knot themselves up in a ball and soon the squirming pile becomes so big that it becomes The Worm King, a living breathing mass of worms that crawls on the floor and wanders around freely, stronger than the sum of its parts. Like a free range organic Worm King, it goes where it pleases and does what it wants until it runs into your leg and latches onto you, and oh no, now you’re The Worm King. Except The Worm King is a model of unity, its motto is “We eat together, we work together, we sleep together, We are The Worm King.” But now that you’re The Worm King, what are you to do? What are you to say? What are you to think? No, you have it wrong. What are WE to do? What are WE to say? What are WE to think? WE are The Worm King. Sometimes you ask the cute girl next door out to dinner, and she has no choice but to accept, because you’re The Worm King. Wesley Golangco 17

From left to right, top to bottom: Kwyn Alice Meagher, K Chico, Dima Medvedko, Chanel Weaver, W.B.St.C, Elizabeht McMunn-Tetangco, Wesley Golangco, Moon Trent, A.T. Kirby 13, Bridgette Womack, and Kat Crippen. Not Pictured: Brad Hachten, Rachel Martin, Leslie E, Chris E. Rockas, and Thundervoice.

Thank You!


TREE 6: Heat  

Every Mercedian has their own techniques for dealing with the heat. Enduring the heat. Dodging heat. Love in heat, cigarettes in heat, epiph...

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