"She will be dark. the berry of a fruit grown so deep the soul turned bark. not back. salty wounds healed by the lot that left Her mental intact. not extract. digging was never allowed on this fertile, tilled tract. Her bossom cultivated cultures with a farmer's pact. this planter knows his plant. grows a tree whose root never separates from its branch. just as hair's intent is to grab. the long reaching arm of follicles laid on a sacred tarp. skin. bark. earth. virgin dirt. carefully pierced membrane housing the seed of fact. dark. black. an identity of night giving birth to what it carts. a donkey of sorts. carrying charts. ferrying diagrams, routes - the melodies that make walking art. this surface holds all moving parts. it is the skin cast as sin because of its lark. nursing amusing strands that give off oxygen while motioning nutrients from every digestive act. colon: a secret that survived the tongue becoming bark. cover. mulch. a trap. the same end to a beginning of air as garb. juicy fruit; Her food was always an herb. She gives root to the verses of word."
mitishamba ~ in Woman i trust
'green is i'