Argument in the Time of Apples

Torqued antipathy apparels dimple  dented funny car, idling gear limbed, oiled, greased, and garbed wardrobe red, beaming barbs, wavy hair flames bursting from the fat winged fenders of his 1950 hot rod roadster, and the countdown lights go green, and the ground springs, and the asphalt melts to sap; meanwhile, in lane next whole daddy,…

Spring Waltz

The local nurseries and flower markets are loaded with starts, but I can feel the pink of the hard orange rose hips still sleeping, snoring in thorns, and hear the tiny golden broach just touching the iridescent crimson of the humming-bird’s throat. Spring came yellowing in a green coach, wavy red-orange hair billowing out the…