a delightful thought
appear upon the liquid crystalline
dispaly. I can make a woman cry and
I can make an enemy bloody; I can make
a place. I can make a holy place in the dirt, a
place rimmed with autumn's cornshucks and cold failures.
And in this meager courtyard, upon this altar I will plant a tree,
a remnant of what good there was. May it furnish us fruit for eternity.