a poem is like honey
for the tongue
a bee stung your lip
and made it swell
I lost my grip
and down the apple fell
way down
down to the bottom
I bent down to grab it
but tripped and then I slipped
on the oily floor
so sore was I
I became ignorant of the ***
that was burning
all around me
a triad of strumming
humming and drumming
love is ancient and equipped
to do battle
with the fallacies that we follow
like flies to the fields
like dreams that never yield
all their memories
like cheese wheels gone sour
our hour has yet to come
while grizzly bears stare
at steaks medium rare
fair children face the sun
and are burned with love
return eyes to magazines
let your heart spread like wildfire
threads are tied together
like millions of strands of light
brighter than the sun