'NO TREES?' HE SAID (a poem)

I wrote this originally in April 1982, after a walk through the woods in Wiesbaden, Germany. I brought it back to London and rewrote it listening to Eberhard Weber, and titled it 'No Trees?' He  Said, which is one of the cuts on his album Little Movements. The poem seemed to pick up darkness from the music; also the album cover seemed appropriate. I've changed it a little bit in the past few months, which may reflect the 34 years or may not. I believe this is the first time it has appeared in public.



'NO TREES?' HE SAID      
                                                   for Ulrike Hoffmeister, after Eberhard Weber

Tomorrow we will find
ourselves walking inside
of our cities again.

Today, moving slowly
through the shadows
of trees we remember

too much. There is no
future, you say. The day
is only itself, I say. We

follow muddy trails toward
a sunset our footsteps
tangled amidst the leaves

disappearing, in between
the trees the sunlight
captures us, holds us

closely, while we're still
walking out of the forest,
as if it cannot let us go.