Three short lines set up a strange picture of nature. Blood leaks out of the grass, and flowers grow from corpses. Death and growth are tangled together, so that something violent and something fertile happen in the same place. Nothing is cleanly one or the other.
Then the poem turns inward with "My mind is neither." The word "neither" is deliberately unfinished. It could mean the mind is neither the bleeding nor the blooming, neither decay nor renewal. The speaker seems to be stuck in between, unable to feel either destroyed or restored. That is what makes the line so bleak: while the world outside cycles through death and rebirth, the mind stays numb and stalled.
The mood is eerie and detached. The imagery is gory, but the speaker's tone is flat, almost calm, which makes the emptiness at the end hit harder. The poem never explains the feeling. It just leaves us with that blank, unsettling "neither."