Poets

Because apples stack so nicely I'd like to stack some under your skin. Your legs, skull, chest full of apples, the yellow kind covered in spots and full of lumps. Just one red, shiny

Tables, sometimes I wish masses of them suddenly would be turned upside down and that you, just like me, had thought of horses

Then do it for me. Suppose a blue plate on a white table, somewhere in a house in this town. Assume behind each house front a