Bleeding

Writing isn’t what is inside the envelope that a mail carrier holds

it starts in the very soil where the subject stands; way back

when the earth nourished the plants that fed our ancestors

                                                                            a seedling, 

                                                                        raining,

                                                              harvesting,

                                                      preparing,

                                                                adding,

                                                                      mixing, 

                                                                                           losing,

   finding,

                                            delivering,


                                           interpreting.

Used to think of writing as a gift, carefully thought intentions,

Turns out to be a stir, 

       inside out,                                                     outside in.

A ritual with the constraints that we name.

Never studied anatomy

but I do know, I do feel like pouring my blood out.

From my veins, through my body, upon the page.

Words. 

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