caught in canopy

i have a problem with words.
us, we use them, we throw them
away, hold onto what they meant
but keep going as though they
were never said; or maybe we
hold on to the thought and watch
as it slowly falls from view, a
sort of leaf and we’re caught in canopy

just a mute

the lighthearted reality of not saying much is that, when you do say something at all, you’re generally expected to be profound, or to resonate a sense of worth within your words, when you may very well just want to be funny.

tree

there is this tree,
towering, living
to be as shaded
reservoir of wind,
the subtle/nestled
shadow’s kin,
a warmth inverted,
deepened to the nerve
and thru, toward
skin’s
other layer, and
this tree,
holding,
lowering
itself
to me, holds
me up
and lets me
lie here,
a transparent,
meshed follower
of what
wind
may
grow.

when walking,

when walking,
carpet/
rice/
pebbles/trees/roots/
leaves/limbs/body/
grasses/mud/ground/
dirt/beetles/ants/worms/
are all, directly,
from you treated.