We buried Grandpa up in a Tree

Night falls with rain
Darkness and pain
Heart opens into oblivion
Without even one hemisphere of brain
Wholeness is Whole
Our planet’s heavy with Child
After we buried Grandpa up in a tree
For buzzards and insects to spread him
Upon the wind for God to inhale
Yet God dances Wild
In the mists of creation
Flinging limbs in our direction
As every bloody stump stamps
Stars and flowers across tapestries of dirt
In the distance screams echo among howls
Love isn’t lost
The ones looking for love are lost
As they hide without knowing
Of the goddess who sits dirty in a Jeep
With its steering wheel gripped in hands
As gnarled as a narwhal’s spiraled unicorn
Because not a single one of her billy goats
Would climb up into the apple tree out back
Where great-grandpa grafted roses with thorns
Onto the apple tree back in 1968
Who dares crawl thru thorns for love
To munch apples side by side up in a tree
With 3 or 4 maybe 5 or 6 billy goats
Who mutter like old men disturbed to find
The prostitutes in this old town hand out
Little green Bibles damp with
Hints of pussy powder and bourbon
Indeed who but one with half a brain
Would dare eat apples among roses
Up in a tree alongside goats scrappling for those
Beer cans tossed up by redneck revelers late last night
Cans stale with aromas of sex and dead yeast
They never saw we buried Grandpa up in the sky
His ribs and pelvis thrust thru
With intwined apples and roses
Or noticed the unsteady rain of his remains
Drift and scatter down to nourish
The home tree planted generations ago
Morning lies far beyond the Dawn
I fire up candles in my mind as
Pages torn from old Playboy magazines
Hustle across the grass


William Dudley Bass
October 2017
SeaTac & Seattle, Washington



Copyright © 2017 by William Dudley Bass. All Rights Reserved until we Humans establish Wise Stewardship of and for our Earth, Lunar, and Solarian Commons. Thank you.



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