Complex Metaphor

Weave, o mind

Throughout my words

To draw from them succulent honey.

 

Such drawn vines

Of sap from apricot verse

Drawing down the cheek

To see wisdom,

To have eyes opened.

 

Open eyes, open.

Let the sweet, tart sting of the liquid

You taste—my apricot verse—

Open eyes

To realms of symbols

To realms of make believe,

Which draw the puckered lip

Closer to an arcane.

Drink deep,

So kiss the sweet knowledge

Of my verse’s love.

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