a seed

Clammy. I had clams, they look like little vulvas! Such feminine little shells. Like Leonardo's Venus. Hot and moist. Secret. Exposed. I couldn't help but stare. Ooozing in butter. Laced with garlic and dressed in Rosemary. Threatened, threatening. I don't know whether to investigate or eat. it's all so new and alive and yet dead and gone. Never again to do its purpose...of eating sand? So delicate, and yet not as delicate enough to be compared to the Vagina. Deliciously and repulsive as so; Thus consumption, gratitude, and remorse echoe.

To clam or not to clam, a dilemma of tensions. Too grabby leads to extinction, then what's its intention? Proliferation, to feed you and me. But being soo grabby has growth in a recession. Destabilizing a connection. GoodTide recedes.


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This was written as an activists' poem for the liberation of Living things from International trade markets. I wanted to express in a creative poetic way the tensions of conservation and exploitation. The availability of Mother Nature's gifts and the inevitable raping of those resources, I feel, is an important angle to encourage the re-feminization of nature against the male-dominated matriarchy ties of today.

-Seeds of Rebellion, since we all can plant the seeds.