if the wrong tree falls in the forest

and there’s nobody there to hear

can you hear yourself barking

will anyone lend an ear


sword asleep lays across a chair

don’t sense the edge of it anywhere

a horse head dawn is the outline fair

rock sticking up is the horse’s ear


shadow in a horse shoe canyon

tends to gather at one end

the light falls fine in front and behind


knothole listens in the shape of an ear

it’s a tree but it looks like an ear

bark is gray and the limbs obey

some scheme that only trees can hear


Lestrade with his pride in his pocket

in the story of the lady in green

a curtain falls between two walls

one side real the other a scene



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