Gone Eden

Empty apple trees

along the highway,

leaning away from

the wind,

 

are not selected

as I return to origin,

a matter of choice

the orchard…

 

country,

or first learning’s

in later wind.

I sit in my father’s house and

 

read his dictionary,

picking it up,

piece by piece,

forming my own

opinion again

but there is no

generations gap.


1972,04,08