Free Verse
mycelial
If I were a mushroom and you were a tree I would have found you already — threaded myself through the dark to where your roots reach down and wove myself in. They see my fruit. Beautiful enough to want, too dangerous to hold. But you would know what lives beneath — the web of me, moving through every dark and patient inch between us. I would bring you what the deep holds. You would give me light made solid. Neither of us would need a word for it — the forest never has. When you find me you won’t feel the finding, only that you always knew where your roots were going.
By Mina Carey8 minutes ago in Poets
We Used to Pick Fruit
Ask a kid today where our food comes from and chances are the answer will be “the grocery store.” We’re so used to having everything outsourced from elsewhere and paying money for it. Perhaps that feels normal… like how it’s always been, in fact.
By Gabriel Shamesabout 13 hours ago in Poets
