That place where all unease collects, distills
its gritty sediments, like clumps of leaves
at the bottom of a cup— Inscrutable, they sit
unsifted, waterlogged, composting once
green hopes— Divine is often the verb
used to describe what shapes they’ll spell;
when heat has blanched and water cooled,
what futures might yet unspool—
In response to Marly Youmans: The gulf of night---.
3 Replies to “It is the bottom of the night, the beginning of day….”
Clever! Honored to be a Luisa-seed…
“Luisa-seed”—what a brilliant term! I feel like milkweed down…
In your Morning Porch aspect, you are ripe with Luisa-seeds!