Pulp Diction
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	CAN I HATE A TREE?

	By Bedros Afeyan


	Can I hate a tree for its immobility?
	Can I hate its arms outstretched, hesitant, unprobing,
	Surrendering to the sun's trajectory
	The prevalent winds and nothing firmer
	More abstract or nurturing than photochemistry?


	Should I hate a tree for the living decay it taunts and wears
	Its molds, folds, corrugated skin ready to peel and crack
	And sag with sap, without heaving variety in its dreams?


	How can I express any love towards a beast
	Who will surely outlive me
	Spread its roots beneath me
	Fight its cousins if they dare compete
	Steal the light,
	Dirty the ground with its pods,
	Shed needles, leaves, branches and seeds
	So more and more trees raise their trunks
	In mock defiance, but ultimately to die
	In a fire or buckle over and merge
	With their ancestors
	Recycle themselves as fuel for your SUV?


	I don't like trees. They make me sick.
	I see them agile, mobile and un-rooted
	In tradition and mystery.


	I see their flowers turning into silk
	Their insect covers, armor in cross winds
	I see them sitting in judgement of the constant bustle
	Of more animate living things, so that they should stop
	Once in a while and let trees think, write, reason
	And predict what humanities and quests and reproductive rights mean
	Far into the future where there will no longer be any trees,
	Any vegetation, and sun to look to, to hear, to hiss with the Northern wind of regret
	Mortally battling the Southern breeze of immortality and peace.



3-30-06
Aboard a United Airline Flight from Austin Texas to SFO


--
Dr. Bedros Afeyan is a theoretical physicist who works and lives in
the Bay area with his wife, Marine. He writes in Armenian and in
English and also paints and sculpts. Samples of his work can be found
on the web by clicking on his personal web pages at:
http://208.177.152.139/