Whither Ygdrasil?

Ygdrasil, our giant oak,

spreads its heaviest

limb over the street.

He’s reaching for something

few of us can see.

He’s reaching—out—where,

my beloved, are we going?

Who Am I?

I am an animal trapped

in a room with a mirror. 

When I was young I

was afraid of the outside.

I began to cultivate a

self based on stasis. 

When I was a little

older I asked my father,

because he seemed

at peace, Who am I?

His face went blank 

like an angel’s.

Who am I? I now ask

the piece of paper. The

paper is as blank as

an angel. I am not an  

animal. I might be the mirror.