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April 3, 1996

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Pointless

Slender spike atop the tree,
I can't really see your point.
You are rising happily,
Never getting out of joint.
Everything I see or do
Needn't have a point at all.
I can simply see it through,
Making every judgment call.
Some things are because they are,
Though I can't their purpose find.
They are like an evening star,
Shining on me when inclined.
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