I plant seeds by buring them hoping
they grow up to be bitter drugs curing
the self-modifying deseases aiming
to decease the last human kinds

Strokes on paper 
none strokes in wise minds
once familar but now in strangers uniforms
walking on pure lands footprinting 
phrases on top of grassroots 
imaging from a distance of 
trees in the deep forest
the leaves, branches and hidden

birdsongs being interpreted as joy
even when it rains
green leaves turn to earthly brown
dry lands go wet and muddy
beautiful scenes, rot and vanish until
becoming wealthy soil again feeding
the uprising fresh newborn
after a long-awaited

spring. sprung, spun
threads dyed with veg and flowers 
dried on rocks, under the sun
then being hung on a wooden-framed
chamberlike knitting machnism
women sitting alongside days and nights
recounting detailed stories of innocence

comets appeared and gone
flowers blossomed and withered
days dawned and darkened
nights shaded and shallowed
the unspoken came and stays
the unsean arrived and resides
the remains of the remainers
live in dead, smell poison while
the ending begins there

May 22, 2019