Without the Tree the Sky Has No Center
I sign my initials for the man who arriveshe says all the proof is there. Bark beetlesand brown bristles, unshed. He takes the tree down. First the boughsover the street. The leader and the crown.So many branches falling. Like the boy who hanged himself with a leather belt.Nothing above the ladder or the hook.I was like that. Almost a hole… Read more →