To Write About The Tree Poem by RIC BASTASA

to write about the tree and the sun
how do they ever stand each other?
is it the need? is it the love?
i cannot really write about it.
i always see them there as i sit under the tree's shade.
as i scorch myself under the sun's heat.
i could have written about the unfolding to the red flower
and the wonder of the grass.
i am helpless now.
i am addicted to something else inside the room.
on a dim light. on a warm bed.
do not say a name. do not mention about the shape of
the human body.
yes, it is. and will always be.
the human anatomy speaking about itself.
love is not a word there. it is a view. it is a touch.
it is beyond what is good and what is wrong.
it is the silence. it is the swallowing of what we are.
it is the rubbing of skin. until the universe
ejaculates what it keeps.
until the earth reveals what is in that womb.
it is the unreasoning of life's rules.
it is merely the flow.
nothing else.