Tree of Life Review



AIRMAIL: Bodhi Blues — A Year in India: Questioning The Maitreya Project by Jessica Falcone

COLUMN: Storiedmusic — The Night I Walked Out by DJ T’challah

NOVEL EXCERPT: In a State of Partition by Aneesha Capur

UP THE CREEK: Editor’s Notes — Art, Yoga, and Abu Ghraib

Late April

The pale light of late April clings to the tips of cedar,
bright green with the few scraps of sunlight leaking through
dense clouds massing this long morning. Gathering and scattering.
Light as though it were something solid, something from inside
showing out, the way lovers’ eyes reveal briefly behind
whatever stress, whatever momentary bitterness or sorrow,
their deepest selves like clear blue sky breaking through
the clouds. Cosí i tuoi occhi saprivano un tempo, Pavese wrote.
“Bright and clear, the mornings pass.” Scattering,
gathering. Without limit. Without end. Lovers who
come together a moment, light withheld now glowing, let
hand touch hand. Long mornings of dark and light
alternating, tears one moment, smiles the next,
wet trails on her flushed cheeks glisten. Rain the clouds
withhold, a few sprinkles on the windshield, streaked
to nothing with a flick of the blades. Fading. Faded.
Gone. The spot where her hand touched his cheek, his fingers
tenderly running the line of her jaw. “Softly, what lives
in your eyes ” Warmth lingers like fragrance, like light
in the bright green branchlets remaining after the sun is gone,
the image obscured. “The morning passes darkly without
the light of your eyes.” Reclaimed in each green flicker
at the roadside, every deep blue glimmer in the roiling sky.

Allen Hoey

Allen Hoey

Allen Hoey is the author of four full-length collections of poetry, the most recent of which are Proven¨al Light and The Precincts of Paradise, as well as a novel, Chasing the Dragon. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals and in the collections Essential Zen and The Best American Spiritual Writing 2004. He was 2001 Bucks County Poet Laureate and currently serves as the Director of the Poet Laureate Program.

POEM: Late April