Thursday, April 4, 2013

C is

C is

The worm in the apple,
A poison blooming,
Anchored, spreading roots.
I am become Amazon,
Shooting down the fruit.

Prune this garden;

Slice and shrink,
Burn everything away!
Burn the worm from his house.
Burn all except the wood
And the spirit of the wood.

Leave the spirit of the wood
For future fire.


  1. There seems to be more to this poem than I can fathom. Eradication of a deeper and more invasive evil?
    The image too is compelling.

  2. All sickness sucks, some more than others, some can be burned away and some is fire resistant. But the spirit of the wood never dies as long as someone remebers to be one with that being.