Monday, April 13, 2009



macintosh sloshers say it’s wet out there
willow weeples sit me down upon the bank and cover me
extravagala offer hors d’oeuvres
first edition apples are signed in wound
empires and my relation to them are troubled
basketed apples are wasted by the bushel
fallen and rotting, red and yellow, forgotten and sleepy
snow white’s got lodged in her throat, when the prince
came to kiss her—what worms
delicious ones, teeth catching skin
ground apples
granny smith—bitter and like it
jonesing-for is better than keeping-up-with
apples on the brain invite arrows
apple only—the label on bathroom doors in the tree lounge
big: doesn’t even look like an apple
bright: why polish apples until like wax? o shiny shiny
firm sweet juicy young, apple body
tome, a book about all apples, an obsessive
an apple for me is not an apple for you
encyclopedic apples, belabored
apples for hire, assassination apples, apples on the half-shell
whether gunning for apples or dunking, a bullet hole means a bad apple
apple-a-day is a preventative or a brainwash or one trochee one iamb
nightreds—apples eaten at three a.m., in preparation for the strike at dawn
blushes and albino apples fail to exist
eve’s and others’—apples to be sucked off the navel like tequila
except redder, redder

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