<levis' "the crimes of the shade trees"> 2005-08-15.9:44 p.m. The Crimes of the Shade Trees Larry Levis Today everyone forgave me. No one mentioned the felony Of my back against the oak Or the air I was breathing, earlier. So it is possible I am not Levis. I smoke and think possibly I am the smoke� Drifting through Omaha as smoke does, Past the south view of the slaughterhouse, And the shade trees flushing with light. And it doesn�t matter. For example, if I am really Something ordinary, a doorstep Or the gleaming of frost on someone�s lawn As he shaves, that would be alright. I only mention this To the caretaker of my absence, Who dzes on a beige sofa. While she knits us a bible In which the blond remain blind, Like shade trees. Filling with light, Each leaf feels its way out, Each a mad bible of patience. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad