pete here is my home
forever and never
as i sit here in my cell
like room in the residence
of university
blathering away
my mind is on my home.

they grew on the river
where i grew,
they where the common feature in the forest of my early life
and they ring the lakes of the forest of the maturing
though here
in the belly of this horrible horrible city
(though this one is not that bad, ottawa it seems is healtier than say toronto)
trees just are not the same
they are pruned
grown for beauty
not for life
and the cedar are not often the ones prefered
except in those
rare tracks,
like along the river
the rideau river
where the trail goes not
and the trees are tended not
there i find some refuge
from the hell that i live in
the hell of this 'civilization' which
requires death of all
life consumes life
and that is the way of things
but cities
cities are something else
something destuctive
something that i associate with evil
though evil is a word for fools
i admitt to being a fool

i want to go home
and home are the cedar stands
perhaps lebananon,
whcih i know from my mythical history education
from the bible
from the epic of gilgamesh
from greek myth
from egyptian stories
from others and more tales
from the ancient past
lebanon is the land of cedars
and for that, no other reason
i find my self in love with it.

i feel the energy of the forest
and its absense
i feel the celestine prophecy
here speaking out to me
telling me that i need to return
to the forest of my early years
or that of my maturing
or better still to one of my new life
my independance with strings
i need to tie my strings to them
and run into the forest
of the shield
to return in a decade
or two
after the peak oil
has reaked havoc on those i love
adn those i hate
and those between
who i do not know
to the trees i wish to go!

to be free

and to be seen by kindred spirits
who hold me dear
and whom i can do the same
taking what i need
giving what i can,
doesnt that sound marxist?
but perhaps it is
and perhaps that is truly just,
and perhaps i will feel tears there
among my brethren
my brothers and sisters
of the wood
of the tree
of the world

i think that is where my purity lies
and i make plans for it
to take what i need
to make what is necessary
and to strike out new grounds
which are forever old
and to live like a human
like a human not like
a plague in clothes!

oh to the cedars i go
the tree of my life
the tree of my love
the tree of my future
what's it to you?
who go