IN MEMORY OF PINES (22)
warm shore I frequently sat
strewn over with dark hissing.
I had formerly come to these pines adventurously, as skyrockets to air, to make my own thread among the gentle worms. At the edge of the water I often hung to a fire, and when done, without companion I would throw the burning nights high and watch them softly descend.
everything in the forest was quenched. We were
Old-fashioned American Transcendentalism meets modern suburbia/techno-capitalism/urban sprawl in something of a (loving) pastiche of Thoreau. Recommended reading: Walden, Progress and Poverty, Oulipo Compendium.