Monday, October 13, 2008


written April 12, 1995

It grew outside my window Four times as many years As I had been alive The branches made Sharp claw marks across my window screen Off of these protruded veins Gnarled and spindly Pumping life to all its recipients Long ago dead And frozen to the ground The arms sway in the breeze And sometimes the veins break off and Hit against my window And yet it remains the same day after day As dependable as few humans are He listens.

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