On My Way Back

Underearth: while rootsy rhizomes entangle from seed-casings busted and decaying, change emerges on sunless, twisted angles that coil in knots of fibrous chafing. Above such interminable depths those origins always flex, to once again imbue a sea of stalks that shivers as it grows with blades that bow to mottled, mulchy dew. These are the facts that matter for rot, vitality once again sustaining old dreams of compost weaving life from not, in heaps of vibrant, active, soggy mold. The new is t...