For i have tasted the fruit

and coated my mouth with nectar

from protuberant poisoned pedicels

from she whose foliage was thick

sage-green like the summer fog of silverbright

with branches wide and shameless like

the thighs of an epitine odalisque

and dipsomanic orbs golden

like the gardens of dawn's heart

in the bitter early spring

i drank deep and breathless and came

up for air shouting in the throes

of its fiery waters

interminably tearing the seditious barricade

of her flame-hued rind--

curses upon that barky mandarin bitch

and her glorious hesperidial clutch


Penned by my hand on the 13th of Miraman, in the year 928 AF.