It grow in stone and gravel around,
body hidden under ground,
still and slumber most that year,
wait until that spring is near;
break through winter cold and ice
three leaves green in pale spike
up from moss and dolomite gray,
bud hidden between. When day
come and sun is bright,
flower knows time is right
for to open leaves. That bud
from power in root in mud
and stone makes petals white, and sepals
three and three; though late snow keep
all other plant in seed or leaf
that rhizome power come beneath
and open white and green and gold,
anthers stand straight and petals unfold,
meet cold and wet and winter sun,
and yet have enough warmth for one
or two days or two weeks,
when other leaves crowd and meet
stem and leaves and light grow dim,
miterwort, and Hepatica, and,
now
flower flop to mossy face,
bees gave pollen to spout of vase
in flower center from yellow fingers
and pollen on that vase spout lingers,
make tube down to base. That play
is done, now petals pinked to lay
to moss and fade. Leaves in broadness,
but soon flower senesce
and fruit grows white under shade.
That summer comes, and leaves fade,
come yellow and brown, and fruit falls
to ants that carry seeds all
to nest and let them to moss,
over leaf and root to cross
seas of mud earth, to gravel
and stone. How far they travel,
only ants know, and we know
next spring when seeds from dormant go
to germinate where some fell
on that mossy gravel and stone, and tell
how far the ants carried them. But now
parent flower finished, dark under bough
of Hydrangea and fern,
only enough sun on leaves to earn
next spring in that root, and so that stem
dries and falls away. Then
only root remains, one knuckle longer
after summer wanes and autumn wax stronger;
But under moss in that root
new flower is ready, too soon
for life, wait after winter,
cold and snow and light grow dimmer
all leaves wither to ground
branches bare and gray and brown,
but root sees nothing
and hears nothing
and tastes no sun
no wind, no rain,
and sleeps.

take me for what I love or let me go.

Some things I like: basketball - play with myself, shoot hoops, pass around my back, dribble, spin on my finger, it feel good, but never with any other person; comic books - I like really strong stories and good art most, with women; Ms. Marvel is my favorite; drawing - any kind really, with any thing, pen, pencil, marker, charcoal, color pencil, chalk, on paper and stone; shapes, abstract and real; scallops are something I draw a lot, and mixed media with charcoal and pen and pencil; I like micron pens best; Painting -with acrylic on fabric, most times, but also sometimes on canvas; plants - native plants outside in wild, and in my garden for food, and dig in earth, and walk with them, see them grow, know names and know about them, and talk with other people about them; wildflowers, most in spring; Walking-in woods and field and fen and marsh and around big talus slopes. Music - my guitar, and listen music; all kinds. Books - all kinds; I like scifi most, I think, I read some fantasy, some contemporary, some poetry, some history, some science, many many botany books; Cooking - I like try new things in the kitchen, and I like eating those things I make; Film - old black and white and silent and autor cinema and new techniques and film criticism, animation and live action, interesting stories, video essays about anything; Writing - I am not very good but I like writing poetry and nonfiction, stories about world how I see it.  Camera - my old digital, in cloudy day and rain in spring in dark forest stare up at flowers into clouds and empty branches and these, these are the best colors and shadows.

 

But if I let myself do all these things for some other reason more than I enjoy them and want do them, I can start feel it drains something important to me from them. That is not to say I can't do them for other things, but I enjoy them, that must come first. Or I will not love them more, I will love less, and feel sad when I do them. It becomes tedium, when I do these more for something other than enjoyment. Happen I should try every week for do these for me, not for something else, not for some other thing. I know really well I don't care, should not care what other people think, happen I dress and talk whatever, and let people think whatever. And I should do same about these, do how I want, do what I feel, express me, and let other people care or not. and let them think my English is broken or weird, I should not care, I should say, take me for what I love or let me go.