Red, orange, blue and turned into pipes
Kernels of life turned inside out, popping
the ancient sweetness in each bite.
Ground on stones by those of old,
chewed up and fermented while sitting
around a fire bleeding the moon.
The cosmos created corn for consciousness
to climb upon. The heirloom is curious
as to who wants to grow the future,
as opposed to grow a killseed.
Life is precious, ask Mexico how much
the soul of a GMO costs, because the
detriment is difficult to chart and
demeaning to heart.
Her name is Maize, and her hair is
coarse and stringy. Each kernel can
make another plant, or be ate.
Be careful when the decision is to take.