I remember burying a fistful of pecans in a hole dug under the house, crawling into the wooden rotten earthen darkness; and remembering them a month later, crawling back deep into the fusty-brownness damp, to flashlight yellow a greening sprout soft fingering through the earth. Remember into the wood’s field bordered, finding an earthy fart-hole embedded as buried brown and rounded rocks. Remember eager sweating mole attempts to dig underground wombs, with a broken board, and a rusted shovel found, into dirt hanging taste on my damp boy breaths. Digging into the soft sliding-brown bank moled, a snuggled crumbly earthen cavern hollowed, with green grass-tufted thatched, underneath whose naked-hanging roots spider low into dirty tousled hair. Where dreaming gnawed weed-tubers stomached, figments of oak-root eaters, and tunneled furry burrow creatures. Then warmly breathing earth-sogged vegetable air, and gnarled moss-rocked toadstools spored, in heaven grass-rained wetness. I remember burying a fistful of pecans in a hole dug under the house, crawling into the wooden rotten earthen darkness; and remembering them a month later, crawling back deep into the fusty-brownness damp, to flashlight yellow a greening sprout soft fingering through the earth.
March 1971