Saturday, July 17, 2010

Grapes



Grapes

Green globes
Like dinosaur eggs
In the bracken of an alien world.
Emerald moons in orbit.
Suspended translucence.
Nebulae of the vineyard
Fall by the force of gravity
And splat on the ground
Like a broken pearl necklace
Where ant armies take to the battlefield
And carry off the spoils of war.

2 comments:

Fungus FitzJuggler III said...

http://www.whatdoesitmean.com/cosmiccross.htm

Beautiful verse....

KV said...

JK,

Those grapes are the balls OIM thinks he has, but the reality is that they are his hemorrhoids. The beam-fuckers really did a job on him and also on that guy Dennis McCarthy who works at Buffalo Museum, who looks like Nixon’s orphaned child, who wrote that book, while harboring hidden agenda, like Brian Pursley, the real name of OIM, a two bit web consultant.

Don’t expect him to answer your questions on plants that think…