Excerpts from Seed Scores for Seed Kits:
score for wild plum:
when the light gets low in your sky,
before the skin of the desert grows cold,
before a freeze covers the softness.
fill your winter with night graphs and temperature gauges.
fill your head with heat memories,
of the last time you ate fruit from the sand
under the hot sun.
remember juice running down your wrists.
simmer this sun memory, listen to the seeds sleeping.
in spring, count your sprouts,
these edge plants that have grown in any
on any cliff,
in any ravine,
long before you
into the dust
to devour them.
score for wild onion:
this lily brother
was once rubbed onto the pyramids
for good luck in eternal life.
emerges from cracks, from gardens, from forests,
called out as a weed.
you take it into your mouth
and tears form in your eyes,
breaking the hearts of your cells.
it calms the cracking of your bones.
throw these seeds over your shoulder
& watch as fields of onions
rise up, defiant, behind you.
the baby never goes hungry
with desert lilies in the fire.
score for silver buffaloberry:
plant the buffalo seeds
in the ashes of
lost tribes, lost mammals,
that grow long
as the branches lengthen.
when the small red berries appear
like drops of blood
caught amongst the the shrub’s rough thorns,
gather and forage with care;
crush the berries into a scarlet sauce to eat
or another unextinct meat.
scatter the seeds left on your tongue
to let another generation grow,
which fixes nitrogen in the soil
nitrogen spurs crops which spur
new desert cities
to be lost