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Autobiography of a Madman


Paper leaves on apple trees
All thoughts inside my head
That on the fingers of my branches
Rustle brown and dead.

There was a time when all was new
Sweet emerald instead
But now the golden and the green
Await the autumn tread.

Every leaf a unique one
Once jostled to be shed
Just like a winter snowflake
From out its cloud of lead.

Why did not an apple grow
An apple green or red
To hang beside the orange sun
Inside my orchard head?

Ch 1 English in the Library
Ch 2 Prisoner
Ch 3 What Can I
Ch 4 Orchard
Ch 5 Broken Brain
Ch 6 Cut-glass Universe
My Lion