I shook the Tree of Life so hard
its fruit all fell to ground
I gathered up the sweet produce
like good ol’ Ezra Pound
I cracked open the walnut
Cerebral chambers, revealed remainders
and broken shell pieces
I sliced through the pear
One half held as bosom, the other
wobbling on its back
I peeled away the bananna
Strange result of man, no stranger to the hand
I split apart the coconut
Husk for cup, meat for chew, and milk for mix
I bit into the apple
Hollow core no more close than
rosy beaches — ghostly surf
I smiled at the acorn
and it just smiled back
I left the Tree of Life that day
and vowed to never rest
I’d shake another season’s work
that pound for pound was best
