It is even inprose, I am a real poet. My poemis finished and I haven't mentionedorange yet It's twelve poems, I callit oranges.
Oh we ate all of the oranges off the navels of our lovers Grabbed a book and read the cover.
It is even in prose, I am a real poet. My poem is finished and I haven't mentioned orange yet It's twelve poems, I call it oranges.
If the world could remain within a frame Like a painting on a wall, Then I think we would see the beauty, then We would stand staring in awe At our still lives posed Like a bowl of oranges, Like a story told By the fault lines and the soil.
If you are the basket of oranges I am the knife of the sun.
[Piper opens one of the guard's cannons. Two oranges come out of it] Piper: You're gonna stop them with oranges? Regent: Obviously you've never taken citrus to the eye!