Oh! The Earth bursts out between these weeds

Feeds the trees, please return these seeds as I left them:

 

With potential. Holy holy incredible the decibel of husk musk matter

We are a splatter of star latter, what-ever with weather, we sometimes

Grow… didn’t you know…

 

I thought is so, to sew the seeds of my father’s weeds and wait

By the mounds with resounding sunshine. With enough love

We will grow.

 

And when we grow the soil knows…

To look for seeds.

—ECW

 

Poem 52 Edited – Poem 52 Revised