In seeds she sprouted from the pair's great oak
    forest-worn in thickness of the usable God
Wriggling in oak shade light for distant skies
    bent spine running along floors
of sticks, cones and scritchy bees
Pesticides to wrangle in the curves
weight of the blooming bud that bent
    imperfectly seasoned sense

The attachment of metal rods in
Interests of correcting bent
Lines toward the stringently
Usable God shaped discipline
    and the sense

Then. Imagining the vine grew longer
And lifting up the beauty of her bud
    lifting in forest of now imagined trees
Birds land gifts songs along her boughs
Not bent but needs of stronger lines
    birds to grip and lift them, hold them
Lifting, breaking, snapping the grip
Of roots in the love me debt of never
Bends this heart of giving debt in
Beauty cast as drawing lines to tie
    birds toward what they love
    the flying then, and flying
Through the oak shade light as night
Gone to the quick sap rooted in the loin
    beauty alone lifts higher and higher
Beauty of the buds bloom in the night of one
Sapling roots her stand

The wisdom in the silent trees move
Little through this time of need the one
Usable God grafted into pleasing bloom
    a worn trinket, worn solely
In vindication birds like flies drawn landing
Drinking buds the oak shade spine corrected
The midst firm, fine and growing instruments
    of debt, the growing, rooted, giving, birth
    the bent wisdom of imagined trees
Sends flies singing their happy tune

And firmly deciding the course of joy
Tiny hands drop down to ground
    the instrument of our good and right
    in the oak shade light, embryos wrap
As steel bars aligned along the scar of one
And another scar pulled and shaped, bent
    as her own tendriled spine bent
Imaginings of the oak and the usable God
Life drawn in and used like stars
Drawing sacrificial angels, vindication
    of debt to fill what never was
The trees, not trees, but bottomed holes
Filling and filling, and swallowing on
Imaginings turning around, inside this
    debt, and yes, my usable God
Firmly deciding the course of joy
In the forest of hole trees, like tight
    magic bits taken from TV
That need that will
Never be

The oak grown bloat of a million leaves
Each from a day, of the shade light worn
Critters in the dangle of mechanical streams
Branch of the leaf, pops free
    as life ordained
For me

Bark circle the thickened
Years branch drop
    beauty shade
of oak root, circumflex