Find Your Tree

Find your tree.
Accept its broken embraces,
like the air of late spring,
a sonata and carnival of animals.

Find your tree.
Once through again,
a songbook for the latter days,
like old Deuteronomy or
the ad-dreaming cat.

Find your tree
and everything Zen
made of sky. For the world
has gone wrong; the gamma rays
are all off. The heart breaks and
the brain is losing power.

Find your tree.
Old and in the way,
waifing near the morning after,
such a strange condition is a tree.

Another life on a chain.
Another in between dream.
Another helpless dirt farmer.

Find your tree
and Nirvana, too.
Everyday when the world ends-
mother, father, angel, and the space
between. Find your tree.

Unplugged,
running on faith,
the ghost inside.