Friday, March 19, 2010

TREED

The man who has climbed a tree
waits in the branches with clouds
for time to come back
and pick up its minutes

The meeting won’t start
    without him
and he’ll keep his distance
through the swarming snow

    *

In the house, looking out
     at winter's storm,
others have confirmed
the plausible

You imagine things
as they truly are,
embarrassing and harsh

You are white linen,
a tattered moon patch
on a black tree limb

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