The Mad Poet of the Trees

The Mad Poet of the Trees

Is she mad or is she actually mad?

Well, it’s there for anyone to see. Poetry is all about trying. Again and again and again. Which, of course, can make you mad. Or sometimes improve you. Which is the goal.

It helps to understand that the Mad Poet of the Trees tends to be indecipherable, even though she can generally explain her own ciphers. Put another way, she not-so-clearly knows exactly what she feels, because her life is all about a mysterious inner wrestling with the truth.  This also means that she tends to repudiate convention, partly because she can’t afford it but mostly because it’s not balanced.

To help regain her natural balance, she takes long walks in the woods. But the walks are never fully, completely, permanently satisfying. Because when she leaves the woods, well, the woods leave her. Even though the woods themselves remain satisfied, no matter where you find them. Because as we can all see (if we choose to see what’s obviously there), a tree lives at the trailing edge of poetry.