Out here in the land of fruit and nuts, we can read poetry every night of the week and usually have more than one from which get guff. Then we have the poetry workshops - more brutal still. And finally, the friendships with poets gone awry - that's the worst.

That's because you always insist that a poet begin with a clear objective and end by imparting that, and only that, objective into the reader. Could it be that a good poem like this one has no clearly defined meaning or several tinkered-with meanings and that a reader might find still others? Personally, I see 9-11 and a jet crashing into where I once had lunch on the 117th floor of the south tower.

The ending of life should not be BOREphyling, should it? Ending well should be the goal, the final splash, the burst of color before a productive leaf hands it over to the tree and goes down to become another part of the tree.

I suggest you start with the brim and chomp hard, because I am she. "She's got a day; she's got long hair, And a sparkle with a tint."

Then I'll remove them farther from reality and more into drivel by adopting your suggestions.

The end has a tweak, and his name is Jerry. Just a memory, but with a lot more sense than I gave him credit for back then.

The lacluster ending is regret, which is almost always without luster. Grabbing attention is my primary goal. thanks.

You expect too much from one with the brain of a tree. Glad to hear the is not the pits. I know it lacks glitz. But at least it has tits, which has commonly been ascribed to the female way of expression. Thanks for the input.

My fingers are like the small branches from limbs (my arms) and from which leaves grow, at least that's the image I wanted.

If I can believe a figment when he says he’s Vin Diesel, then the actor I see as a god-like hunk is not real. Are you really he, for if your are, I am in a state of delusion and must surrender all I hold dear. Surely not!

Is your name Zeus, Holy Father, or Dovina? And who is the figment?

Your spelling of “flavor” leads a casual reader to think you might be English. If so, you’ve got to bear down and write your complaints using vulgar and insulting language, or ruin the image the English have created here. hear! hear!

Hear the Gospel According to Dovina! How dare you question it?

It's not there any more, except for remnants. It's been rebuilt twice, and the present Erie Canal is angular and technically correct. Beavers have no chance.