Oliver Nalder

July 18, 2000- Utah
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In the weeds

I want an exit like Van Gogh,
Suicide by crop.
Oh dear, momma don’t you know?
How big I’ve gotten since we last talked.
I know you hoped
that you would see me
grow taller
than the rope could reach.
Are you angry?
You planted thistle, not a dogwood tree.
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