Got Trunk?

Why does it feel so wood
to take a mind out of gear?

The tree mind can grow leave
to let leaves breathe

The carbon dioxide
that poisons the overly poised

I love that about making poems
each one is a tiny tree

Which may contain large
given responsive multitudes

And at the same time
one need not give a whit

About every bitty bit
sapling future sweat

I may be a sap
for being on tap

And that's why
I no longer drink