AN APPLE IS A BERRY MADE OF BALSA WOOD

when you fingerpaint you never hate yourself.
you regroup in solitary. you swarm from the heart
and arrive unkempt and legendary.
you emerge from your flesh wound with three eyes
and marvel at the sun in your bones.
etching new moons with thumbtacks
and long prayers.

you sing like a photon in a spoon.
for you… an apple is a berry made of balsa wood
and clouds are weightless anvils.
the law of the world is your Love
and nothing can be done
to otherwise.