A TREE AS POEM
For the poet
a tree is the fruit
not the root of poetry.
Origins are unimportant.
Color, shape misleading.
What’s lovely is the sound.
On all its branches
meaning blossoms green
then falls yellow, red, brown.
A tree as poem
sings wind song
whenever its leaves cover the ground.
Charles H. Johnson
Poetry Editor
Spring 2009 Poetry:
RAPPERS AND THEIR GAME by Michael Cromwell
EDITOR'S CHOICE: Three poems by Robert Flanagan
OCCUPATION by Elizabeth Pavlov
ONE BLUE SHOE by Barbara De Franceshi
THE FUNERAL DIRECTOR by Jennifer Juneau
CASH CROP CONCRETE HOLLOW by Dave Migman
THE SWIMMERS by Oskar Hansen
MAUDLIN MOMENTS by Judson Hamilton
HORNETS by Christie Isler
BLACK MAGIC BOXES by John Tortora