stands on its hind legs for height;
no matter, ill-fated. Never thirsty
for the infinite blue that is always
slurping away at its tendrils, which
the big green circle warms
with its cusps, never knowing
the red of the fire it creates,
nor too high on itself to really even
pay attention to the loudest shades
of lipstick floating beneath and
among and around the tall circle's
lowest green limbs, which — big gasp,
effortless words — are red as the backsides
of some of the shinier animals that
roll gleefully down the
short hill all day long. The lips-
ticks floating in and among the
darkening green of the dusk, the
shushing in and the shushing out
like sounds the skins of wings make.
Funny how they, the shushing sounds
makers, never fly or even float above
the infinitely blue drug this sometimes
mid-afternoon sky, or the sky of the
early morning or sometimes the sky at the
stroke of midnight, never float above the
still blue, beneath or around the tall green
circle standing on its hind feet (for height),
never float out of the still blue water, these
(red?) shushing wings, the water that is and
was the bay, is and was filled with the shiniest
animals which never fly up and over or float
across. The wonder. The tall tree in the middle
of the tall green circle that envelops the tall tree
and all of the green and the short hill from which
the tree rises and down which the shiny animals
roll gleefully; the green tree, up which now the
bay seems to climb, is climbing, so that the blue
water (infinitely blue) is not simply beneath or
around or among the loveliest limbs of the tree,
but rises further still up to the net sack at the
beautiful green tree's longer arms, all hidden
from most of the universe (perhaps?) by the
tall circle (green) that stands on its hind feet
frantically looking for heaven. The
circle, the entire body of the tree
standing on its hind legs (which can
feel the coolness of the water as it
rises, rises), gasping. Gasping
THESE ARE RED!! the feet of the
tree to which the snout of the tree
now points deliberately, frenetically,
until finally, and ever so slowly,
the tree begins to be mellifluously
sucked into the above — up to the next circle;
this, the endless cycle of the heavenless tree.
