you write me into existence with
those beautiful veined hands;
your phantom sweetness bleeding
through to greet-create me.
this world was made to be free,
to be met head-on with abandon:
rolling down a grassy hill, throwing
all your gold over a cliff into the sea.
do you hear me? all we need comes
from the earth; every-thing we eat:
grown up and out like what we know
in our roots to be the ancient
trees of self, of