If today,
To grow
We must destroy
If to feast
We must parasite
Or to plant seeds
We must plow down

I'll gladly sit a moment
In sweet sunlight
And soak her up sat still,
For once.

"isn't that something you
want?" she asked.
"no" i replied. "what i desire cannot be given. only by providence can that which is unattached be realized and only by letting go can it be integrated."
"well then...", she said with a smile,
"...perhaps it's time, hmmm?"
and at that she folded
in on herself
over and over
like complex origami
until she became
a butterfly.  

then she fluttered
into my
chest and took
root in my heart
like a seed.  

she grows there
now like a low moon
lover bathing in moonshine,
dripping in starlight,
changing in
the glow.

“Emotionally Impregnated”
was the phrase that came to mind
when I tried to make sense
of what had happened to me
half way through listening to
the song he had sent

“You know you gave me all the time
Oh, did I give enough of mine?”

It was the unchangeable joining
of thought and feeling that produced
within me a growing emotional experience
that no more asked permission to be
than did any other seed and egg.

“Say you don’t know me anymore
But that’s a bullet on your floor”

I have never been a reliable narrator though
how many negative tests have I produced
even amid ******* that imagined they were swollen
nausea that persisted for days
and blood that stained sheets much later than expected?

Had I just spent the last two years
in an elaborate emotional pregnancy scare?
Had the joining of lyrics
of hungry bodies
of insatiable hearts
produced within me an embryo of empty hope?

Have I sabotaged my own lifeblood
in a desire to force from my womb
some monstrous and malformed product
of what had been lifegiving friendship?

My conciseness was a seed of spider threads,
             and when an idea birthed like a
sack of baby arachnids.

Crawling within,  
  consuming my every introspection.

I slumped over the page, they crawled forth,
           tiny metaphors continuing after
   my musing was consumed within..

Rushing through space and time,
A seed fell where none could see it pine
It longed for fresh earth, like the opening to a door
Was it too much to ask for?
It thought as it lay in the dark

Just as it had gave up hope
When it could not cope
A wind came up carrying it
It flew farther and farther to finally sit
Upon what it had longed for

It grew, and grew, and grew
To call it short, would be untrue
So much it had changed
From that seed, in a little body caged
To a huge tree

Tall and glorious it stood
Supporting all the life it could
It was like a parent to all
Until it gave birth to seeds small
And it realized that it had produced life of its own

Imagine good enough for once
and all we do may do good.

Corny, Provencial, San Juaquin,

come waltz with me,
my tilde, leave us oll rrroling rrs

all ye all ye outs in free, we are only one century

out of tune.

And we found a rready wrrited rreason to say

a used key is always bright.

Freedom of the press, is an abstraction frrom
freedom, per se, being in need of rights,
authoritatively apprrius osity curio

those be noise, not functing scipots, bags of wind.

we are the words that fit the pattern to the card,
for Mon Jacquard, once a soldier,
trained in close order drill,
a thread from there,

gives us software. The fruit of the sci sent to
Mon Jacquard,

words taught his fingers to fight.
There is a right fight.

It is nobody's war. Nobody fights it for you.

Come, let us imagine making peace in a cup,
until it spills,

and coats the world like Sherrwinn Williams.

We are not who they thought we were
They do not remember us, but we wear no disguise
They call out a name, they see resounding nothingness in our eyes
Same soul, same heart,
Sill chasing after the same prize
No thought of glory nor glamour
Just a fire, like a blazon sunrise
We came for the fight
We are not afraid, no, we are fear itself
We are not the ships you brought us in
We will not move with the wind, no, in fact
We command it.
We? seeds.
Buried so deep.
Under the pressure, beat down
under the water, destroyed
but in the dead of winter we rose
We are not who you thought we were, a seed, no more
You do not remember us no,
it doesn't matter. Be ready for the war.