Or clouds nor even stars but trees
Waving razzle-dazzle flags and
Ensigns with philosophical whimsy
I dream eternally fixed glossaries
Of a bloodless forest the leafage
Perplexed in the throat I dream
I’m the exegete of verdant silence
Reader of whatever wood god
Scribes the green chronicles
Of extreme unction the investiture
Hanging like Spanish moss poetry
Tangled in the shady branches
I dream arborescent selfsoundings
The spirit of innumerable small
leaves
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