Archive | November, 2017

Joe Cottonwood | Intelligent plant poetry

How to Make a Walking Stick Find a branch that has fallen from a tree. Ask the tree if you may use this wood. Wait for the answer (sometimes trees are slow). Listen to the call of the crow, the bark of the fox. If bird or fox speak, they speak for the tree, and the answer is Yes. Or if no animal calls, if no wind rustles, but if […]

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Barrett Warner | The scenic route and more

Bare, I Come to You I never had a green thumb. It was orange, yellow, sometimes blue. Plants died. Goldfish died. On some mornings I enter the kitchen to find dead roaches, curled up papery worms, spiders caught in their own silk. Geese fall out of the sky to land at my feet. Corn and beans mildew on the stalk and topsoil smothers the stream. Bees have stopped dancing. Every […]

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Eirlys Chui | Three poems

A New Day In the moments between midnight and morning It is silent at first, as though nature still sleeps All is calm and quiet, for even the air has not awoken The sun slowly slips from its soft slumber Its vibrant rays reach out, warm and radiant Drops of dew gleam on the delicate dahlias. Nature knows it is time to nudge the world awake Branches stretch and yawn, […]

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Bob Findysz | Plant poems

Nana (Mentha spicata) I could continue acquiescing as he prunes and keeps us cultivated in our assigned spaces, producing together another year of aromas, textures and tastes. But I have it in mind to let myself go to seed and spread throughout the whole herb box — sending my hungry runners through the seams in the pine walls of each cell and the cracks in the wood floor, out into […]

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