Green Buddhas
On the fruit stand.
We eat the smile
And spit out the teeth.
      –Charles Simic



somewhere all is green
and we laugh like baby buddhas
we pin flowers on
our sleeves we wait for the
blossoms to bear fruit
we don’t sit we stand
everywhere the sunshine goes we
follow we forget to eat
a river calls us to the
edge the water like a smile
rocks like invitation and
the river gods spit
us out
our flesh bursting like ripe peaches see the
dragon’s teeth








2 thoughts on “fruit


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