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TREE. volume 1. issue 7. Liquid

Merced, CA


Dry Tears Elizabeth McMunn足Tetangco

1 Encapsulating the Sea Brad Hachten 2

Mitigation Leslie E

3 To See Things Both Shadow and Light Wesley Miller 4 Finished Wood W.B.St.C 4

Skeletal Structures W.B.St.C

5 to be Wanted to be Used Jocelyn Wagner 6 We Shall Proceed! Thundervoice Halfkenny 8 The Modern Voyage Brad Hachten 9 Great Mountain Elaine Sachs

Brice MARDEN b. 1938 Elaine Sachs


Dew Drops Meganne Ward


The Long Black Hair Leslie E


The End of All Things Joshua David McCain


Resonance Liz White


Robert Melissa Rocha


The Snow Karina


Physics Major Meganne Ward


Research Melissa Eisner


Rain Dima Medvedko


The Fortune Teller's Rain Bridgette Womack


Contributor Collage 18

THEME OF THE ISSUE LIQUID : Flowing freely, like water, shining and clear, smooth and pleasant. Rain drops in our new season of LIQUID poetry. And in this drought, Mercedians know it can't be too soon.

THEME OF THE NEXT MEMORIES : Think back to our history. Times, sepia-toned, rose-colored, terrible, beautiful-innocent and crushing. The contents of our memories influence both the way things are, and the way we think things are. For the next issue of TREE, feel inspired by our MEMORIES.

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 - blog

Special Thanks.

TREE. Editors William Benjamin St. Clair Melissa Eisner Graphic Design William Benjamin St. Clair Front Cover Art Elaine Sachs Back Cover Art Over the House by Raphilo 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

Dry Tears Watching raindrops Fall as thin as campfire Ash. They make me cough; they Don’t leave stains. Fever hopes I can’t remember In the morning. The grass is dead as Patent leather coats. You’d see your Face there, if you looked. Elizabeth McMunn­Tetangco

Encapsulating the Sea The ocean within with its vulnerability to storms from Odysseus in the ship’s hull pulling the blankets over his head to Anne Sexton’s awful rowing, we’re at sea. Doesn’t always end well but suffice that it ends. Brad Hachten


Mitigation My mother and I went walking She lived in Tulare On Avenue 200 We went to a creek Where there was a bog Real rancid water Out by the airport We walked down this creek bed And the ground started moving We both started tripping We found out we were there during A migration of tree frogs Hundreds and hundreds of baby tree frogs We both damn near fell Leslie E


To See Things Both Shadow and Light To see things both shadow and light before they occur seems ludicrous in life, and might; so insignificant it elbows for space, among an overpopulace, never howls to be so lonely or seperate or misunderstood or other things. Simplicity is perfectly smarter than many constructed phrases which complicate and lattice-work the tapestry of mind. And sincerity is an action-thought that hunger for chaos; to ever resurrect the spark is fuel that tinders day and night. Feed a stagnant life force feeding to be charmed. Smoke signals to aim contact with the heart Follow that heart even into a desert, ocean or storm, about; teeming with life so deep; majestic in vanity, may specialness manage the illusion. Tossed on a sea that curves, a wet body reaches for freedom and finds sand on the isalnd but life craves connection, and when the bridge is built, that body wanders into the desert again. Then, will the gardening begin; where companions follow or are; meet in these fields of matter, sway in the breeze like blades of grass rooted where it explodes from the husk that housed it's seed through the seasons, a foundation slipping on any axis. We are elemental, bent in the wind; flickering blades of photosynthetic light. You have sway over me. Wesley Miller 3

Finished Wood I’m cut and sanded muscles sore and bulging without satisfaction unfinished wood

my wooden self keeps going today, like yesterday, still I’ll be as content one day with my eyes carved and black. W.B.St.C

drip on the whetstone sharpened knife repeats the higher frequencies and eventually it makes no sense. what’s left I’ve carved to set marble inset eyes stare back at me but it’s getting there a doll just as real as me except I’m moving many small wet parts juicy lips and struggling

Skeletal Structures my bones are molten glass that don’t shatter just molds around momentary condensations and outright commentary my skeletal structure gives in my central being shifted unknown and incomplete further reaching and through comfort i reconstruct myself just as fragile as before cooling into firm, shattering structures not really annealed, it doesn’t really work that way not like steel, but like delicate sculpture made of sugars glued with humility and held by necessity and by the calmness of will. W.B.St.C 4

to be Wanted to be Used There was something in the way he spoke Symphony in his words Magic in his fingertips Kindness and pain in his eyes He had felt much And seen little He was medicine to her For a while. Her broken mind Her lonely heart Then he was a parasite Feeding off of her love Off of her innocence There was darkness for a long time She forgot how to see the light He tried to teach her, but She Didn't Trust Him Anymore. He didn't understand why she Was so afraid. Fear of everything. Everyone. Fear of him. And he couldn't understand. Jocelyn Wagner 5

We Shall Proceed! We shall proceed to give you what you need as a Native Community What do I mean, I mean to say that from Sea to Shining Sea I stand for the nations and that means that Love is the dominant frequency. You know great peeps like Russel means R.I.P. See this Wampanoag Warrior you see is not your average and ordinary. So coming together in unity is what makes my native drum beat. So idle no more give the people what they need to sustain their natural ability to exist and be throughout the galaxy we shall proceed. Thundervoice Halfkenny Virus a hard-drive of shame an in-box of disappointment personality tests that see through me and the binary-code identities that would like to Julio Cortez 6

The Modern Voyage All aboard the ship Baudelaire Streaming with ideal flowers. Our faces young and fresh, The possibilities seem endless, We’re off to discover new bodies. Weathering the ship Baudelaire Our ideals have wilted into the real. We’ve discovered novelty is fleeting And the wreckage of Rimbaud’s boat Floats in fragments on the water. Still riding the ship Baudelaire We’re looking old and haggard. The voyage seems endless And the question of heaven or hell No longer matters. Brad Hachten


Great Mountain What great hand smears black across the mountain? Moves the water towards the coast the tides, breathe in and out foam of breath on wicked ocean. Murderous, vagabond fish they eat the waste of the land. The land heaves, the land is full and the land rolls over into the shape of a mountain. The mountain is there because I drew it in ink. Elaine Sachs

Brice MARDEN b. 1938 Line drawing--abstraction of water reflected on studio wall-skeletal structure of future paintings. Bits of opaque white in “stanzas” vertically (chinese) Elaine Sachs

Poems from Elaine Sachs' debut collection Over Many Years!­over­many­years 9

Dew Drops I want to exist in the hollow of your neck, And the divot of your spine. If your body were the earth Anywhere a river could form. Anywhere dew drops could trill on your petals. Meganne Ward

The Long Black Hair I remember the first time I was in a mental institution I met this lady with real long black hair I asked her if I could brush it And she said, “Ok Les, but later” Then every day, at least three times a day I’d ask her if I could brush it She said, “Ok Les, but later” And on her last day there I asked if I could brush it She reached up, pulled it off And said, “Here Les, brush it” Leslie E


The End of All Things As if the world was collapsing, dead on impact, Like a broken heart it bleeds, pouring from the wound, Blood is spilled. Heightened senses bring shame, Paranoia taking over the mind, Like a cancer it spreads, Draining the value of life itself, bringing chaos unending. Like a fire it consumes all that is around it, Feeding itself for all of time, Bringing friends and foes together, Smiting all who oppose it like an angel bend on revenge, Demons show themselves, Countless in number, Shadowy in nature, Brining those who dismay into the light, Â Shaming those who do not, Gathering the faithful, and condemning the rest. Hurtful words exchanged and expelled, Justifying the righteous, and damning the meek. Painful actions to free the self-serving, And even more judgmental to those who live free, Fifty five sins and thirty three condemnations, Kill all who oppose. Fortifying the mind like a fortress, Bringing down the wall of reality, Like battering ram, infinite in strength, All those who die must end up somewhere, For the actions of men deserve reward, and punishment, Bringing down those who would seek to destroy natural order, Ending those who would cry for anarchy, and sustaining those who would seek to uphold it. Justly the gods hurry to fix mistakes made in haste. For all things must come to an end. Joshua David McCain 11

Resonance Staring at the ground in a crowded room, I am jolted to life By an intoxicating, familiar sound I have never heard before

Eyes back down, My senses lose control; Mixed up and confused, I can’t remember if I saw or heard your voice, If I touched or felt your smile

Above the murmur of chatter The sweetest melody arises; Interest peaked, I raise my head

Heart pounding, I turn in a stutter to leaveTo remember and to forgetAs I search through the sea of faces My nonpareil being To your midnight mysteries For the source of the music, My eyes settle upon you I leave not empty handed; Something has instilled in my bones, Following a charming smile And though I depart alone, beneath a soft smirk, Words order themselves perfectly, The charms you have burned in my memory With a charisma and confidence Will walk me home tonight. So foreign They echo ever so faintly, Liz White As if curling up at the ends, Reaching towards some unknown desire Fueled by undisguisable and unmatchable enthusiasm, Intrigue and ease If only I could know what you said, But having been focused only on the sound of your voice, I must have missed the message Not meant for me


Robert There is a trembling in my breasts, trembling because my heart pounds steadily, rapidly, day and night, my unbounded affection is dominating my body. It's difficult to eat, it's difficult to sleep, it's difficult to have any sort of conversation because at random intervals I hear his voice in my ear, a whisper "I know what you want me to do." His voice makes me weak, it tears down walls I have built over great time with great effort between myself and the world. His mind lays me bare, opening my heart revealing my soul, understanding with no effort what other men have never known, and in doing so giving me joy no other man has ever given me. I long for his face, I ache for his touch, I have a hunger for him that will never be satisfied. The deep tone of his flesh awakens something primal within me, not only my heart but every cell in my body urges me to get closer, pleads with me to make contact, my mind overflows with a lust so ferocious it makes me shake. When his lips touch mine it does something surprising, it brings back my faith, faith that life is to be lived not managed, faith that a man can be a blessing not always a curse, and most of all faith in myself, I am not a monster. His touch melts my icy heart and a feeling of springtime moves over it. Where once there was desolation there quickly comes abundance and I feel the warmth of life flowing throughout my body and into my soul which is altered, which is free. Melissa Rocha 13

The Snow How I love the snow. The city bundled up in it's blanket, a city that has forgotten the warmth. The snow, and how it holds memories and buried promises. I remember running through the town, leaving my footprints as I went. I also remember meeting a boy, in this city of falling snow. He had a kind smile, a hyperactive nature. We both would run through the town, leaving our footprints as we went. A boy who would be forever placed on a pedestal, no longer within my reach. Karina

Physics Major he loves physics; but he doesn’t know there are unexplored galaxies in his mind, nebulas full of shooting stars leak out of his lips when he sings to me, his fingertips on my skin create a bigger bang than any theory i have ever read. Meganne Ward 14

Research And there are creases that split my lips And there are wrinkles bunching in the corners of my eyes My story on my body Like Crusoe on his island still checking facebook on his smartphone with no signal but gulls and waves Or Orpheus taking the stroll up with the want to glance back just because he can't And it is as tantilizing as it is stupid And I am glad my reflection in the glass of the car - as things come & go with no suggestion of return in a blur outside- is faint, and highlighted. Melissa Eisner


Rain A pressing aching bursts upon me, For every single time I see it rain, I feel remorse and yet a little gladness, For raining puts to sleep and stops the day. It dulls the senses, leaves you where you lay. Every single time I see the rain The sky is aching gray and full of sadness It gives us life and mourns our wretched state. The water flows dispelling all our hate, And makes the asphalt patter with a sadness. Every single time I see your face I feel like you are single with the rain. As you are just as sad and hard to tame. You suddenly display great joy, great sadness. As fast and inconsistent as the rain. A sparrow on a perch and in a tempest. An innocent condemned to a cold sentence Every single time I see it rain I hope it lasts but closes in the morning Because a leaden sky is such a burden. Dima Medvedko


The Fortune Teller's Rain The steady drumming on a thin metal overhang begins to burrow into my mind. It is a mere 35 degrees on these barren streets, I find myself drenched and shivering. I’ve tucked myself into this small corner as my only protection, a feeble attempt to remain unseen and untouched by the world. When I was younger I met a palm reader with a deck of worn tarot cards and I asked her what it was she saw. She whispered a few words and took my hand into hers. Her face began to drop and slowly, steadily, a stream began sloping down her red-rouged cheeks. Only two words escaped through her lips before they pursed for good, “I’m sorry.” It’s funny now, how I left angrily and pinned her as fraud. Yet here I find myself, sitting under a noisy tin overhang, the skies crying solemnly. To everything that's surrounding me, I whisper the words, “I’m sorry.” Bridgette Womack 17

TREE CONTRIBUTORS Bolded names are featured in this issue. Listed in no particular order.

Kwyn Alice Meagher, K Chico, Dima Medvedko, Chanel Weaver, William Benjamin St. Clair, Elizabeth McMunn足Tetangco, Wesley Golangco, Moon Trent, A.T. Kirby 13, Bridgette Womack, Kathleen Crippen, Brad Hachten, Rachel Martin, Leslie E, Chris E. Rockas, Thundervoice Halfkenny, Rachel De Vera, Colt Laney, Devon Batey, L.A. Johnston, Cristopher Casuga, Tanisha McClain, K Chico, Melissa Rocha, Jason Liske, Melissa Eisner, Sarah Milhoff, Mark Price, Cameron Switzer, Jocelyn Wagner, Alison Rush, Teena Fultz, Megan Bevis, Aurea Bolanos, Elaine Sachs, Mercedes Gordon, J.P. Gonzalez, John Walker Beatty, Shannon Aberle, Veronica Cruz, Meganne Ward, Oscar Torres, Marcy the Poet, Sarah Abboud, Evalina Hansen, Alyssa Haynes, Joshua David McCain, Rosemary Schultz, Eleni Valas, Arron Brian Febres, Liz White, Jordan Cowman, Alexandra Eifers, Vasilisa Crosthwaithe, Michelle Downer, Karina, Steve Baba, Raphilo, Cookie Laigo, Salvador Padilla, Ursula Vasquez, Mike Plamann, Ella, Kika Figueroa, Wesley Miller.

Thank You! 18


Flowing freely, like water, shining and clear, smooth and pleasant. Rain drops in our new season of LIQUID poetry. And in this drought, Me...

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