Anti-what?
I am the am-not
Where things do not come to pass
I am
I do
Of course I do
And where I do it becomes odd
Where I fit I am not
And the profusion of me is truth
I bleed where I am pruned
A handsome shape
I am obscured.
Unheard of, me
And yet in the quiet
Of mist rain watering the moss
That is constantly growing
The cold-wet fur is felt
And in the days that pass
The beauty-seeker walking by
Will find a big green patch.
A handsome hedge
I am not
I am found where meaning is lost.











