we’ve just cut the garlic from the cloth of the fertile ground and there’s a raw piece of it in my mouth. it’s stimulating and sensory, a taste all-consuming of each taste bud – busying them into oblivion. it’s fresh. it’s so fresh that we are glowing in the band of darkness that surrounds us now. it feels good to release the roots of these fertile, bulbous creatures. a season spent bundled beneath leaf and snow, only to entertain the next with poised intention. a life cycle i both admire and condone. briefly i intimate myself with the spur of garlic stitched to the side of my tongue. the garlic is thermal and spicy, radiating a residual energy from the ground. i’m tasting full circle and all of the sudden my head is spinning with inebriated adoration.
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