drawing treEs.



truth? i fall from the planet from time to time. take trips out of skin. Off planet. i wish i could say it was a euphoric float.

there’S texture i crave / living in this drone state / creamy smooth alignment / mouth full of sand / soUl doused in bitter dregs /

trUth? i would greet death w my bags packed, private

journals glowing in a blaze

if death should come, decked out in bLAckness (because that’s what it would take to get me to leave life) with paradise looking like the beginning of time / in coloR / huEs

(mOTHer, don’t you wEep!)

/ i’d go.

walk into the fiRes… clothed in melanated skin… put this body to heAt… watch liFe go up in flAmes… observe mOther throw my ashes to the wind

(i wanted to be a treE!)

my dad is here / a mixture of colors / his eneRgy, relief / yet, bittersweet

(he almost doesn’t want me here)

this part… it is worth abandoning this body… not suicidal…

the ache one feels from loss… loSS that can’t be gained… that can’t be touched…

i called him yesterday… before i remembered… before i remembered that i can’t call him again… i called him yesterday… his number belongs to someone… i can’t delete the stranger’s number… i keep calling yesterDAy

truth? i’d meet death, halfway / a fork in a rOad / i’d wait / i’d take the pain /

my sKin brings to the table dissension… a table i can’t be seated… compleXity and fear… ppl question my destination… follow me back and forth in stores…

the goodness i wake with doesn’t accompany me to bed

grandma is waiting / all three / cAresses in the wind / brisk / dry / crisp / sage / wIldflower / red soil scents

one, she’d be smoking pEace… ( she’s a descendant of natives of this new world)… one would be making eaRTh… the other, she’d be on watch directing the ways of her kiN … (she is silently brooding to have me so near)

truth? i venture into alternate univErses, often. risking flake. chancing quitter. tempting runner. yearning the bleed. arterial spurts. carpets colored in red. wall sTaiNed in splatters.

truth? life doesn’t feel much like living. life feels like not existing. life feels like not living at all. i’d meet death, halfway / liBerated from this flesh and bones / free from confines / pocketing my shadow (it’s been such good company ) i’d walk away, willingly

.  .  .

— i fear life… the loneliNess of loss… the emptiness of hate… the smell of paiN… (it’s under the skin, you know?) the pain of not beIng… the end nor the beginning… the drain that each breath takes… it isn’t the fear of not knowing but the dread of knowing… i could live like this for fifty years… nothing chaNges, except my weight… i harden my ways… i accept things being exactly as they are… i live in subtle mediOcrity… i don’t live… i exist

truth? i put in my bid to be a TRee when this body is spent. when my eyes are heavier than the load on my back. when i’ve run out of respITe.

iF death should come / i’d meet death, halfway / i’d show all my drawings of treEs (i got a poiNt to prove) / foRests full / no shame / no disclaim / roots break through concrete / no defeaT / simply exist / simply to stand fIrm / just being / a trEe / that’s where my heart is / guarded…



Walkerjo Lee



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