REDWOOD TREE, BIG SUR

                                                    for Robert Stone




A tree is a needle
The rest is bark and age
It is the most immaterial of objects
Nothing but aspiration
A bridge of sighs
Yet it has benefits, it does for others
Heedlessly, without knowing,
Without plotting
Sheltering for example our sunburned heads
Granting the hunter cover
The lover too
Hauling up all our toxins to the gods
So they can be burned and returned as
Free vitality
Too great to take in, this monstrous web
Of benefits
That it ignores
Because that is not the job


It is a needle
All it does is pierce
The sky, the earth, the ones who are not there