Pin It

Dead Tree 

As if there were no more directions.

Each year from the main shaft bent

And bloomed in various genuflections

Towards what must have seemed

Unending perusals: compliance, defiance.

How many different levels, directed and dreamed?

How many different gropings, restings,

Plungings and undaunted thrustings; until,

Rent in half by its own opposite questings,

And in ignorance of any rooted limitations,

Or the finite universe beyond each massive,

Groaning tendril, it tires: There are no extenuations

Save through regeneration.

  • A poem by Christopher Hensley.


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event
Hudson Valley Regional FIRST® Robotics Competition @ Rockland Community College

Hudson Valley Regional FIRST® Robotics Competition

Sat., March 25, 9 a.m.-5 p.m. and Sun., March 26, 9 a.m.-5 p.m. — Five Hudson Valley High School Teams Prepare to Put STEM Skills to...

The Moonlights

Sun., March 26, 10 a.m.

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets