Transmission

there is porous organization in custom built biomes

reinforcing the changes of the long-awaited art

fever pitch resting in the pitcher’s reservoir

reach out and pour we are all just visiting

corporeal forms integrated into the fine fabric of being

the wet works begin in the skin of the thin men

the burnished heart of quietude will blind the willfully deaf

you are not alone in this chamber begotten one

forge your destiny against the hot rocks of savage deserts

wander in the land with seeds and plant your homes

the fruit that is borne from wasteland to wasteland

makes tomorrow’s richness honey from the hive

there was time before you and time still before you

stretching out like floodwaters from a broken dam

that which was forgotten is remembered in the cells

passed down expressed and blooming in her children