In the vineyard
\na grape is suckled
\nunder the sun.
\nHunched in a commune
\nof brethren.
\nIt grew in a myriad,
\neach indistinguishable
\nfrom the others.
\nAnd this is a thought
\nabout destiny.
\nA grain of sand
\ndifferent than the dune.
\nOne wave among the endless.
\nA bolt of wood
\nto be a violin
\nand not a door.
\nThe first angel
\nborn to man,
\nin a manger.<\/p>\n
So I wandered
\namong the vines,
\ntheir bounty
\nto be crushed
\nin a seminal wine,
\nto titillate the buds
\nof a woman\u2019s tongue,
\nbut choose the sweetness
\nof unfermented sublimity.
\nSalute to a season,
\nits light and rain,
\nand the gnarled stems
\nof patience.
\nA planetary fruit,
\nof unsurpassed subtlety,
\nteaching me
\nhow destiny,
\nchooses what it chooses,
\nto leave its poems
\nbehind. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In the vineyard a grape is suckled under the sun. Hunched in a commune of brethren. It grew in a myriad, each indistinguishable from the…<\/p>\n