I have no dreams A tree fell and crushed the taut strings Outside the gate A figure at the same place Picks at the tar and waits for my house His gasping question How long will you survive? After rain, stillicide drips from the roof Into his old tin cans I don't see where he takes water A paste, crushed leaves and spit Is brought out And painted on him, straining I have no dreams From the roof I hear him scream The fishing lines that held me up Are caught under the tree I hope it rains enough to rot it quickly