heartichoke.
why is it that we call the center
of this - fruit thing (?) - its heart?
is it really worth the dignity?
we peel the fibrous exterior until
we attain the prize, the tender core, and
our labor is well compensated.
the envy of the plant kingdom, which
collectively sings the song of the tin man!
the pinnacle of flowerhood!
so what, then, can be said of
the tender hearts of men,
whose rough shells keep all at bay?
the outside must be softened, removed
if the core is to be found, but
this burden of Work is light,
and its freedom is the heart's desire.
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