touching the tree

My favoritest english teacher turned mentor turned friend turned ex-boyfriend's friend turned my friend still, thankfully, recited this poem on the first day of class and I was amazed by it. (Was constantly amazed by this teacher.) He recites it to all his classes, the first day of school, and I used to text him my favorite line (the walls are painted white to be better?) as a way of wishing him a happy first day of school.

I dropped off a little bit, grad school wears on the more tenuous friendships, but then also makes them stronger.

I got a text this morning (the second day of school!) saying "I have dug a cave for a lion...remember me?"

How could I forget.


Touching the tree

W.S. Merwin

Faces are bending over me asking why

they do not live here they do not know anything
there is a black river beyond the buildings
watching everything from one side
it is moving while I touch the tree

the black river says no my father says no
my mother says no in the streets they say nothing
they walk past one at a time in hats
with their heads down
it is wrong to answer them through the green fence
the street cars go by singing to themselves I am iron
the broom seller goes past in the sound of grass
by the tree touching the tree I hear the tree
I walk with the tree
we talk without anything

come late echoes of ferries chains whistles
tires on the avenue wires humming among windows
words flying out of rooms
the stones of the wall are painted white to be better
but at the foot of the tree in the fluttering light
I have dug a cave for a lion
a lion cave so that the cave will be there
among the roots waiting
when the lion comes to the tree