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Apple Tree As if it began on its knees in the angle of meditation, then rocked backwards as it rose, only to thrust forward indicating a path before spiraling back again, revising its trajectory so that when we walk beneath it or around we see changing vistas, feel the space of many rooms, so that we know it cannot be defined, this endless braiding of self, this circle with many edges, so that we understand it's not the flowers or the leaves only the journey. |
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Issue #29, October, 2002 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.