WE are kin of the soil

but dig with bare hands only what needed and no more

what are my bones function?

there is the answer but I am forbidden to give it

i am to swallow all this raw meat

and what if the meat is maggotous?

what if the meat is breast cancer?

what if the meat is smoke-polluted?

what if the meat is mold-riddled?

what if the meat is wet from someone else’s shit?

how am I to know the truth?

never will I know.

is this why no one else takes this thing seriously?

and what is covered with a bit of tar emriculated pavement —

not tarred but organic and tarless emriculated — as my knees

like lemons when I kneel on it — I have nothing to fall down

to lose so I kneel in her tireless, humid, viscous astringency —

and all the arteries of my body cry out with their own unique melody

when I kneel to receive my fecund material gift from the dirt –

and this body now crushed in this specific form is the very image

of an ultimate answer to my continual dilemma of achieving what is

defined and defined is that it’s onewe are kin of the soil

:: 03.05.2022 ::

(*Onew Condition: the ability to freeze the atmosphere with a lame joke or gesture; to be excessively clumsy.)

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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