Pipe Cherries (for lack of a better tittle)

The stem of a brilliant flower in bloom

emerges candidly from the lips.

The bowl of an oracle held between

the index and middle and thumb.

Provoking prophecy and vision,

inspiring poets and philosopher.

In company of dear fellows,

we shall birth springs with every idle sitting.

You Put the Seat Down

I just realized that this poem was a really fucked up old draft... I may put it up again when I find the right copy.