Lately, I have been thinking of how the seeds that have been planted by years of practice are only sprouting forth now. And how some are still lying dormant in fallow earth, waiting for their time, not knowing if their time will ever come. And yet, how every word, deed, action, bears its fruit and has its purpose. And some contribute to necessary decay, which makes for fertile soil and good ground. We plant seeds that we forget, yet we can always trust their timing.
everything that grows and ripens
comes from a place of fallowness
and beyond that a place of dark soil
fertile unknown
parceled in
messy oblong garden plots of possibility
all of it could easily
become life
or death
or something in between
that never quite materializes
but remains a silent hum
on the astral plane
whatever makes it this far
is delivered into
a world of
words
thoughts
desires
its difficult passage is acknowledged
by cacophony and
a thankless slap on the rump
this morning
i thought i heard the voice of some
mouthless deity
its eyes spelled beauty and foreboding
its hands were long-stemmed roses
extending beyond the sleeves
of its funereal robe
what will your seed bring forth?
i was still beginning to awaken
rubbing sleep and the
dread of my undreamed dream
from my ocean-black eyes
i could feel my life unraveling
like a spool of thread traveling down
a paved dirt road
chased by headlights
or a trail of saliva dribbling
from my open mouth
i could see myself
shuttling forth
giddy with speed
unfurling and blossoming
a vulgar multifoliate plant
strangling myself on my own life
not fully understanding that
what i had deemed growth
was only the wild motion
of hunger
i could see myself
stretching up
then bowing beneath
my own excess
decaying into the nameless home
that exists beyond this
body house
i could see myself crushing this body
bone and sinew
blood and byways
ancestors and empty atoms
back into
the first kernel of life
that held me
dripping down the roots of
my family tree
i could see myself attempting to know
and unknow my life
in prayer
released from
this song of satire
this expanse of lingering
this identity stripped of its zodiac
free of labels
devoid of assigned worth
it was here
that i finally danced
it was here that i reveled
in the smallness of my seed
it was here that I tasted
the sweet fruit
my life
longed for me
to bring forth
