we are taught to trust certain things; and not notice a screw is missing
we try to adjust our eyes to see in the fog we should use our ears
we would never ask the squash plant to grow apples but we might think it
there is always hope before peeling an orange that it will be sweet
we ignore the cracks in the out-of-mind places ‘til something grows there
nature’s graffiti would be a flower growing on an ugly fence
a fresh idea doesn’t come from the same well as stale ideas
the flower worries not; the sun will always shine eventually
never trust someone selling a star shaped flower as if it’s a star
two vines, intertwined the squash, the morning glory sharing the same fence
uptown jack 