The tree´s skin(that´s what i am)

I am the bark.

Unsmooth unscrupulous,

The praymantis high on it.

Brown and rugged all the way up

this tree is me.

Folding in and out toward the end of the trunk

to the start of the leaves.

I´m the pattern of bark

ceaselessly searching my own form of freedom.

I´m the lines, the gum that won´t freeze.

I´m the esoteric configurations

of the forest you can read.