The leaves of the squash plant, roughly textured and prickly. Arugula, wild and unruly, her patterned leaves taste bitter. Spinach seeds, — cold, frigid, wet and dark. Lettuce, the radish seeds, tiny and round. Cucumber, cool like the moon, off white, . . . a...
The seed lover is waiting to open, Dark warrior blossoms the root. Deep memory contains both seed and wing, As he flies on threads, transient and shifting.
She is dark they say, the black goddess, rich scum in a bottomless well of spittle and black voices, of old bones rattling, clanging, dancing the depths rising with the moon, reading our life with her stories.