.
My breathing system seems to be
these lungs within; without: those trees
There are mountains in this pic of withered leaves—
as from a satellite
and
voids
in shadows
they recede
but I see
brittle peaks
bright spines
curl from dead stems
dry earth desiccated
by the whims of men:
their exhausted filaments of life and breath,
drew dioxide carbon in,
transmuted it like alchemists then
expired it as oxygen
the dry lungs of trees,
are alveoli complements
of lungs close and tight
as twin sisters
consider:
when one dies
the other withers
.
by Jim Culleny
5/15/12
Blink 