A Hole Essence
trees reach deep into the ground to feel for light & what ants make of it
is the reach I want
The Sun
Lively Enlightenment
Only as life else there is nothing to sunlight & this nothing to us
if only its light. Why else fertility? Why else this flourish
of fruitful ignorance? This sacredness of a first sun conceived
& birthed by a void only an unknown God could love?
The Superior Ovary That Is The Dark
Birth is the after-life of immortality & its conception the contamination
of the everlasting that wrecks & wastes like plant & animal into vivid emptiness
---flushed from voids that swell with stars whose light is larval & alive.
I tell you this because the ignorant egg that shines at the end of an ovipositor
is the sun we see day & night.
A Seed of Increase
If the newborn of oak
seeks the teat of soil
is not Love the aim
of issue?
Comet Dust (of insensible vitality)
The Dark Cede
A life-time of ignorance & no one to blame for even the Sun is blind, yielding to woodlice the ambition of light.
The More to Give the More to Have
Love flowers.
Let those of us who cede, ravish its deep interior; lay with the ground; spend our hard shell of desire; invaginate the dank, bacterial swell; intercourse with hyphae sporiferous in rot; hear roots shriek with pleasure as they copulate in the musky putrescence; touch the fetal absence as waste seeds to wild emptiness; taste decay's ejaculate in the voids of dark that germinate; see starvation of light as cause for ecstasy; this vanishing the frenzy of suns; their "holes" of after-life an embryo's appetite; this excessive yielding the contamination of increase; this fatal paradise, how Love is able to rise.
Verbascum blattaria
Where A Star Goes When It Dies & Until Then Why It Shines
Let the propagation of light persist long enough & it will become sex. Let sex propagate long enough & it will become a sun. The generation is not born of water or fire, of omnipotence or willfulness, of synthesis or dialectic, of selection or variety. To breed light requires emptiness. To populate what is lit requires death. Ruin is upon its back & open-thighed; the living, erect & ready to penetrate. The world grows round with phyletic wombs. Increase of a dark universe is Love's radiance. 
The More We Know The More We Roam
There is great fatness in those who speculate. Much fatness fixed by admired contemplation. Fecund, these excesses, like the citizen-ecstasy that clings to us as we, this solidarity of intent, make cellular our way through trees that sprawl into being. Much admired fatness in us who consider ontologies as forests fraught with death. That their hushed dark be of an absence decay sanctifies. That every "ending" of root cap & meristem penetrate the sprawl of emptiness. That the "thought" of Q. fecundus sustain the thing itself at rest yet restless within the acorn's munificence.
Much admired, those who speculate increase as the satisfaction of energy & this generation the ineffable satisfaction of the empty. To say the fatness of creation companions voids that engender the spoil of stars. This sprawl of light, its ruin to give rise to the speculation of ferment, of filaments alive in this hushed dark; learning to thrive in this absence decay has discovered—a reason why the dead sink; why gas, dust & intelligence drift into solum. The charity of a tree or a sun that makes for a sun or a tree fat with speculation.
And of course, the reason for acorns.
