Monday, August 26, 2013


Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, 
I would still plant my apple tree.
Martin Luther

 Orbs of white flesh
 And syrupy sweet tart juice
Wrapped in polka-dotted green 
Sunshine. Apples, apples, apples
Hanging ripe—ready to be picked 
Stems twisted and plucked 
So firm and real in my hand 
So imperfectly perfect 

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