The poems in Trees Make You Think of Other Things contain a strain or undercurrent of melancholy, apprehension, and dissatisfaction in keeping with the style of work I've developed in the last few years--much of that work appearing in two recent chapbooks. What makes this collection a bit different is the fact that it not only culls from my recent writings, it also brings into the mix some pieces written as much as twenty years ago. As a result, this chapbook reflects in part an evolution in my work: the alteration over time, for good or bad, in the poetics of mood, memory, line, and subject matter. What this might mean to potential (much-appreciated) readers isn't clear, but for me it defines a certain mutability, a way of seeing the world, that's inseparable from the fact of growing older. While most of the pieces here are representative of the poet I am at this very moment in time, a few others are snapshots of a poet I haven't known for years and might not even recognize--or apologize to--if I bumped into him on the street.