An Innocent Looking Soul

An innocent looking soulDraped with an ethereal gownConfident strides across the patioWith Eve’s revengeCrisp air – like the first bite of a green appleObscured; knowing her nectar to be my cure I watch her bosom swellIt’s not objectivizationFor I worship herRefreshed in wavesThis transparent Victorian hypocrisyKnowing all that ails& an unseen wound Yet morning crestsPale

Ray Bradbury

  “I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.” ― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing