Apollo Appleseed

a friend of mine, Apollo, having
appropriated that name already
to launch a, not unpromising,
career as an artist, had never
to date considered a surname
for what I called his nom de
, his brush name

but in a farfelu moment, French
for having lost one’s head – my
head, not his, having surrendered
immediately to his fantasy – he’d
happened upon “Appleseed” as
maybe a fitting, and to be
considered, apposition, addition,
to his presently truncated name,
I jumped on it

he later called the phenomenon,
at a loss for provenance, an
inspiration, to which I forthwith
concurred, Apollo Appleseed,
can you dig it, I told him he now
had to live up to it

inspiration is always the source
of poetry, I said, poetry is what
we all live for, to make our lives

it involves following our inspirations,
however fanciful, however out there,
people have built lives around art,
literature, dreams, madeleines, for
goodness’ sake, fording oceans,
climbing mountains, and have
become not to be forgotten, it’s the
magic that counts, ever the aim of

when inspiration strikes it is ever
charged with possibility, perspicacity,
delight, it is not a negative function

when inspiration strikes it is time
to stand and deliver, it knows the
ineluctable way, the one that’s in
your heart

you too can plant apple trees across
the land, of your own potentialities, if
only you dare follow even one of your


psst: you’ll have to forgive my ardour,
it’s been my Johnny Appleseed

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