Magazine article from our research archive:

Nature.(eleven poems)(Poem)

 
I miss the friendship with the pine tree and the birds 
I had when I was ten. 
And it has been forever since I pushed my head 
under the wild silk skirt of the waterfall. 
 
What I had with them was tender and private. 
The lake was practically my girlfriend. 
I carried her picture in my front shirt pocket 
Even in my sleep, I heard the sound of water. 
 
The big rock on the shore was the skull of a dead king 
whose name we could almost remember. 
Under the rooty bank you could dimly see 
the bunk beds of the turtles. 
 
Maybe twice had I said a girl's name to myself; 
I had not yet had my weird first dream of money. 
 
Nobody I know mentions these things anymore. 
It's as if their ...

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