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A Tree Poem

Excerpt from Bucolica

By Rob AngeliPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
Sketch by the author after Poussin's Et in Arcadia Ego

Continue on to leaf and seed, sowers and vectors,

petiole,

stipule,

petiole’s a stemlet communicant tween leaf and branch,

growing leafing shaggy budding seeding heavy sowing by throwing

propagules (buoyant fruits float, fly farther maybe faster):

/Braintree’s Seedling Whirlybird/

The Tempter in the FruitWood:

holding outforth the tastysweet apples so plump,

the edible tissues of tree temptation, fruits somewhat rounded

now peachfruits plumfruits pears and pomegranates,

walnuts almonds ripe cashews

plentifully tumescent in swelling blast

falling falling ripened ready

plopping down upon our gawking heads,

Newtonian Epiphany by

Giant Fruits ready for our giant baskets,

attracting hornets, flies,

and every type of animal

Giants All Devourer Muzzles

to bring seeding far from parent tree

thru the gut of all these birdsmammalsinsects

to be manured in propitious locus

pastures new for pomifers:

seedling hope for reforestation.

Then the cortex for the nutshell rind or husk,

cortex means bark in Roman, or

shell of shrimp and nuts

other likewise things by the same name—

cur non cortice nomina leguntur fagi olim oblita?:

why not give it a read, this forgotten page of bark,

in this our Race against Time?

The Tree of Life, the World Ash,

the Beech-Brain.

My Bucolica is a modern reboot of the "eclogue" form originating in Classical Greece and Rome and much rehashed throughout all European literature. It usually comes in the form of a collection of shepherd's songs, dialogues, and stories featuring themes of love/desire, nature/the seasons, death/mortality, and the passing of time. It is often a playground to poeticize the animal world and humankind's relation to it, as well as particulars of the seemingly idyllic life led by simple shepherds and farmers in Arcadia. It is also referred to as bucolic literature. I wrote my Bucolica 2017-2018 in a mix of poetry and prose.

artexcerptslove poemssurreal poetrynature poetry

About the Creator

Rob Angeli

sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt

There are tears of things, and mortal objects touch the mind.

-Virgil Aeneid I.462

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