When I partook of strange
Fruit, I held my lips a-
Gasp to cough up new
Found Anger resting, gently, within
The rotting fleshy-drupe.
This Giving Tree bears
Unto me, a bitter crop and yet
A sweetness fills my soul
Swinging Lower and
Lower from the Poplar Trees,
Wisdom shadows me-
In histories quiet breath,
I leave from this garden in a fiery haze
Yet enter the world better still...