by Jack Foster Mancilla
I push through space, through brightness, and shadow,
languidly pulsing my life force through the continuum.
On my tendrils the soft current of the breeze shallow
peaks my interest of tastes and sex. Tongues my medium
like agars replete with life, nourishing, and driving
my very self to reproduce. Bring me my mate, my bodied
complement, I search the flowing agar-agar for your scent.
Long has been my toil, my primal quest near atrophied.
Again, I catch the waft of your passing. Please, relent.
Rough banging upon my being, assailed by torrents maddened,
bereft of nourishing agar, cast upon the hardness of empty,
immobilized by I know not what, my tendrils movement dampened,
I long to be free. Yet, I feel the future of my passing entity.