The Man Seed

The penis Throws its peapod, to the sun Emancipates itself from the hierarchy with nowhere to go.

His environment is the present offer with no outline, His roads bunched to a tie, The tie himself,

He rises with the man to achieve— Body needs, Body cravings

Innocent as a newborn's yell. Beastlike, he twirls, reflects, Devoted to his likeness,

Through nothing but substance— Flavored, color white! In his cave

His interment, And his mound and this He dies with lustrous carcasses.

#1315 4/2006 This contemporary poem, breath-taking I find it, written this morning in my husbands life; the only poem, and the only attempt I think at a poem, by him, making a dramatic sand between man and his body, extraordinary it is. I don't know of anyone else who has attempted to capture mans essence, fundamental nature, and quintessence: man himself, and separate him

in the process. As he has told me, many a times, "Trust the man, if you wish, but not his nature.” And after reading his poem I asked myself: just what is his nature? I seldom do his notes, or commentaries, for I do not know the real meaning of his poems that well (I am learning), but this one seems to grab me to where I have to say something, for he will not I am sure; I believe he will leave it for the vultures; when each man needs to examine his inner self; place his psyche beside his nature might be a better way of putting it. Rosa Penaloza de Siluk

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