in a book
a tree is god
behind each knot
within every bole
hide universal secrets
the shadow of a book tree
is long and significant
it withdraws not
it bends not
and every toadstool touched
turns a wild rose
timely snow lights mystical
upon outstretched limbs
limbs bearing majestic sweetness
in their easy levitation
and lightsome span
in books
a tree bends
and there is shadow
a tree stoops
and there is fruit
true to see
like thoughts in three
books and trees are meant to be
tree
shouts the oak
what tree
screams the aspen
standing stark in sunlight
naked
shaven
raving
without honor
country
kin
kin
wild with touch
cold to see
real in color
russet beards swooping low to brush the
leaf-cluttered pavement
mad
utterly, freakishly mad
not to mention fringe
in their inestimable sobriety
the trees howl
caring nothing at all for books
or fantasies contained therein
the trees howl
caring nothing at all for books
or fantasies contained therein
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