Know How Apples Grow
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

These woods are mine because I am here now,
declares the wingless angel to the oak,
then looks for devil dancing in the dark
whose gold hair glows bright as the morning sun
because her green eyes know how apples grow
from stones to serpents with long rainbow wings.

Concealed in honeysuckle bush of fear,
the wingless angel watches bullets soar
beyond the destined point of history
where singing devil with three thousand eyes
gives melons to lost strangers on the road
because she knows the irony of loss.

Each wood boat floating on the river waves,
that flows from snow-white mountains to the sea,
requires our bodies understand how time
adjusts conceptual progress beyond death
since all organic creatures dissipate
to flashing atoms of attentive stars.

If time is thinner than pages in books
where stories of romantic partnerships
record the tragic comedies of love,
the singing devil might remember how
her body glows from first kiss of her fate
when she meets wingless angel by the lake.

In chasm breaking hearts that lovers bridge
words congeal frantic feelings into thoughts
with ardent heaviness of lonely hearts
so they bend undulating arc of time
with kiss that folds enormous galaxies
in tender vows exchanged to bind clear eyes.

No anger billows at imminent death,
retrieved through blunt refusal to concede,
when weeping devil with long curly hair
decides she will be strong in spite of pain
by breathing deep celestial energy
that fuels courage to endure suffering.

Perfume of fresh-turned Earth intoxicates
souls of wild children born from seeds of corn
who bring baskets of vegetables at dawn
to wingless angel and his devil bride
who sweetly kiss by the blackberry patch
while cows discuss philosophy of love.

When spirit of the sky comes down to Earth
and fills our bodies with fierce urgency
to dance and sing beyond the end of time,
the wingless angel and his devil bride
call refugees of war to gather safe
in walls of haven no tyrant can crack.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus searches the world to find his lost wings, but brings basket of apples instead to his devil bride who cooks supper in the temple of singing skulls.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism