My Morning Apple

My morning apple comes to me
In colors of peace
Like summer sunrise
Rich in amber
Shaded with streaked irreverence
Spotted with freckled charm
Dusty hues of river dirt
A swarm of lady bugs
Speckled with perfect imperfection
On closer inspection
My morning apple comes to me
With a scabby complexion
Stretched and pulled
By time and its maker
Dented scarred and cut into
A yellowish green sewn in
Not as infectious as it is like bile
A strong snotty appearance
Laced with a bloody brushstroke
As if somewhere a tree coughed
And here in front of me
The contagious sputum
Filled with nature's intoxicants
Seeds and stem
Crowned anus at the bottom
Horn on the top
My apple comes to me
In the morning
And I judge it
--
7.14.09

Comments

~JarieLyn~ said…
You must have a high spiritual awareness to be able to describe an apple with such eloquence. Your words inspire me to write better.
July 15, 2009 at 2:56 AM
Enri Zoltz said…
Thanks, JarieLyn! I am checking out your blog; you write nicely. I am not sure what else you aspire to do, but you seem to have to enough drive to do whatever you might want to! As far as awareness goes, I try to tap from the source as often as I can :) See you around the blogosphere...
July 16, 2009 at 11:17 AM
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