a bunch of grapes
purple magnified
dew on its sides like
the gleams of the moons
of Jupiter
they luscious
to my tongue always
luscious to my tongue
like your breasts
like the gleamings moons
of my Jupiter
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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