Seeds Planted in a Fertile Mind Kenneth P. Gurney Kenneth P. Gurney Page 1   [Listen to a reading of this poem.] Before I get to the end of the phone line, I must count all the dandelion seeds afloat in the state of Nebraska, while my right hand begins to merge with a stained glass construction of the Christ with loaves and fishes and a black horsefly washes its hands while sitting on my big toe as it sings a prayer to be near the deer the drunk hunter manages to focus his aim upon just before the artificial thunder reverberates through the yard where the phone's long, long cord barely stretches to bring your words to sink into my ear.