All my ventures in the flesh of grapes
were because
I was searching for wine.
My world
did neither end
in the flesh of an apple like a worm
nor in the bite of an apple
like my fellow man
dwindling
in the eyes
of gods,
gravitating in the appetite
of living.
But without the fire fermenting in the heart of fruits,
in the flesh of the grapes,
without wine bearing in the end of branches,
it is heaven
that seems
falling from
the branch of apples.
