I knew a girl who knew a girl, who learned to let things go.
She ate all of her apple cores & bit the man below.
I had a lover who had a lover, my wound was written by her.
She swallowed the seed & bit the man, pretty is the liar.
I have a mother who had a father who let her kick the dog.
She sprung the leaves & bit the man, broke down machine ‘n cog.
Sometimes
in the
humdrum glow,
I am short
of words.
I’ve asked AI to
grow the tree,
to bite the man,
it heard.
The mother
of my first love
asked
about the dyke.
She blessed
the bark,
bit the man &
calls me what she likes.
Ain’t nothing nice about this tree
Ain’t nothing nice ‘bout you
Ain’t nothing left that’s good for me
Ain’t nothing left to do.
Here grows that tree in soil, but these are bitter greens. Oh how that tree is growing now,
ain’t nothing left for me.