In the forest
no one hears you tree
but look at you
oh sweet canopy
go directly to the fruit at B14
Bark full of arrows
shot through space
those bars of black
either night or not night
but who can tell
When did you say this was?
1978? On Martha’s Vineyard?
Oh what a marvelous bike ride to be on
seeing fighter jet cockpits all in your foreground
and little scribbles in the ledger
Before then?
In Aldrich Hall?
The edge of the woods
still writhing though cut back significantly
there it is
not so far away
and you with your laws of nature
why would you think to make it a thing?
algorithms in the sky
making guffaws
with long strings trailing behind them
the wood behind the wood
and still there is more to do
Your basic tenets
set to a playful tune
now berthed in all man’s work
we do not know to bow to you
because the machines don’t tell us to
more fun for you anyhow
to walk among us
like a starchild
in the sloshy swamp of the dead
your feet dirty with a different kind of dust
that of scrolls and shavings
purposefully remote
yet constantly hammering the same fence post
it will never stay upright
but it is fun to keep cutting
Daniel Bricklin
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