Wednesday, August 13, 2008

These Peaches

These immature peaches
are like poetry pieces
that are underworked,
and not yet ripe.

Their size is small
but that’s not it
it is on the inside
that they lack substance
anticipated hues and textures.

Patience is key.
After all, the tree is still
relatively young . . . just another year
or two, and they’ll be so sweet savored by the tongue
nourishing the mind
replenishing the soul.

Oh but their smell
and the way they roll
around on the table
makes them poetry

or peaches
I haven’t decided which.

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  • Promise of Light

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    Location: Far Side of Sanity

    And the iguanas dance in the desert/a thousand miles away from this place/and this face: stoned immaculate.

    "Let us remember . . . that in the end we go to poetry for one reason, so that we might more fully inhabit our lives and the world in which we live them, and that if we more fully inhabit these things, we might be less apt to destroy both." Christian Wiman, Editor of "POETRY" "Hang on to your hopes my friend; That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away, simply pretend that you can build them again." ~ Paul Simon

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    "Imagination is more important than knowledge." ~ Albert Einstein