Why I'm your hero

A circle visited me. But really that circle was actually an apple; and really that apple was actually a serpent, and really that pent up axe was actually your hero, smoking trees in the back yard, ashing on the spine of a Miles biography, smiling like lace on a wing, saturated with truth and moon-flesh, singing doo-wop medleys and glowing like a cash crop. Was your father a singer too? If he didn't beat you did he at least join you? That joy in you/that joy in you is the least of it. Let our souls rise in love.