The First Book of the Harvest: "The Birth" (Black Sheep Open Mic,October 6, 2017)

In the beginning was the Oid which came before the Void.

Where we could not see touch taste or feel

then everything we came to be

a burned out ember

which long ago drifted from the sun.

I am so not joking.

So Cinderella, whether your prince sends the carriage for you

or you are left doing the dishes

you are destined to waft the cosmic currents

a speck of ash, a seed

landing on that giant marshmallow

waiting to be consumed.

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But many years hence, it came to be that on that Giant marshmallow a savior was born  

Her mother was black and immense with peaks, valleys, and alluvial plains:

the transcendental ubiquity.


Her father was a skinny Asian:

the best that machine intelligence could offer.

She had penetrating blue eyes luminous yet indecipherable, like reflections of a looking glass seen in a quiet pond.

They named her Emmanuel Rights Jefferson.

Just like the city of Jefferson, in what used to be the state of Missouri.

Her family called her Emo.

Emo prospered in mind and spirit, but soon discovered she was different from other children.

For she could weave the spell of life:

ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.
ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.

ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.