This is not a real forest. This
Is mind forest, the memory
Betraying itself with itself,
Weaving oversimplified myth,
The previously fantasized
Residue of previous minds,
A thick, tarry distillation
Of moss-paved avenues, darker
Arches higher than any trees,
Canopied with unfamiliar
Varieties of needles, leaves,
And stars, haunting me all my life.
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