A single tree poetic buffer. Here the locomotive "Language" stops puffs for all it's worth (even modern trains mean steam to me), yet still the words can no more get their hands around the tree than mine encircle it with thumbs and fingers touching. A roughness to the bark I find deep furrows and high ribs and regular a curvature variety and subtlety, but all the attributes combined do not convey the tree. A gust of wind a flock of leaves like birds takes off. It seems irrelevant to treeness, to a tree engulfed by steam and viscerally explored gut-felt amorphously approximated trunk branches leaves and ivy cladding
space turned inside-out the steam cloud's negative.
Displacement of the steam. The words blow loosely round the tree clutch at it define an absence in their midst. They mention functions processes a monolithic stature whilst all the while their centre hides a hollowness an ambiguity which is a tree reduced to words.