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Death of a Lawn Mower It died in its sleep, dreaming of grass, its knives silent and still, dreaming too, its handlebars a stern, abbreviated cross in tall weeds. Where is he whom it served so well? Its work has come to nothing, the dead keep to themselves. Who Could Have Believed It? Who could have believed it? This is hell and I am looking out upon grass and trees. The air is calm, it's the beginning of Spring and soon leaves will sprout and give us a green hell and a warm sun and lake to swim in to cool us off,then to dress and dine towards an evening film of the hell of others, which surely we will enjoy for its art and in private admit it should be lived, since living has no other form for us. Rise up from your seats, Ladies and gentlemen, and turn in for bed, locking your bodies together to affirm yourselves. The Life They Lead I wonder whether two trees standing side by side really need each other. How then did they spring up so close together? Look how their branches touch and sway in each other's path. Noticehow at the very top, though, they keep the space between them clear, which is to say that each still does its thinking but there is the sun that warms them together. Do their roots entangle down there? Do they compete for nourishment in that fixed space they have to share between them, and if so,is it reflected in their stance toward one another, both standing straight and tall, touching only with their branches. Neithertree leans toward or away from the other. It could be a social device to keep decorum 706 | Poems of the 1970s between them in public. Perhaps their culture requires it and perhaps also this touching of branches to further deceive their friends and associates as to the relationship between them—while what goes on beneath the surface is dreadful, indeed, roots gnarled and twisted or cut off from their source by the other and shrunken into lifelessness , with new roots flung out desperately in a direction from the entanglement, seeking their own private, independent sources. As these two trees stand together, they present to the eye a picture of benign harmony, and that may be so, with both dedicated to the life they lead. The Question I dream I am flying above the city on the strength of my two outflung arms and looking down upon the streets where people are like so many bacteria moving about upon a slide. I am alone up here, with no one to contradict me, free of the noise, tumult and violence of the living. Here is my true residence, and if I say the people are bacteria who will deny it? I declare in my circumstances that the people are what I say they are. The only question now is whether I can keep flying. / Sink Back Upon the Ground, Expecting toDie I sink back upon the ground, expecting to die. A voice speaks out of my ear, Youare not going to die, you are being changed into a zebra. You will have black and white stripesup and down your back and you will love people as you do not now. That is why you will be changed into a zebra that people will tame and exhibit in a zoo. You will be a favorite among children and you will love the children in return 107 ...

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