Tree Love

The pagans are sad when we do not call the trees, “souls.”

While I was finishing up this found poem, I noticed the hands on the magazine underneath, matched perfectly as an extension to one of the tree branches off the side of the page. I originally read this poem with a feeling of empathy and responsibility. The hands were a neat coincidence at first, but their unexpected placement affected the poem for me as they began to represent the “we” in the poem. The “we” in the poem who  apathetically states that a group is sad because “we” do not acknowledge trees as having souls. (Boohoo. How ridiculous.) Now clear these hippie tree lovers away so we can progress with the chopping down of these old trees and build our parking lot. 

What do you think? Does the interpretation change at all for you? Here is the finished poem:

 

MH2016

07 Jul This entry was published on July 7, 2016 at 6:03 PM. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged black out poetry, blackout poems, found poetry, trees. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.