i'm a single cell on a serpent's tongue

helio / trope

is what we expect of our writing…can that be true of our lives?

i’m worried that the post below is too shallow, doesn’t go deep enough, but the question is compelling, and this is where i currently am. something is here.

radical / roots

digging, is there semina? what is it’s nature and form? what is imposed upon it?

does it stand a chance? is it in topiary? in pavement slats? in open field? the opening of the field.

i just refuse to negate these questions before they awaken. cause maybe they are heliotropes, grow by light of intellect and being embedded in black dirt.