All origins in plants. All ideas in plants.
I think I will grow legs and travel across this continent. I think I will build a ship and travel across this ocean.
Then I will come back one day and tell you, tell you of the wonders I have seen.
I came back one day when I was very old. No one had seen my face in 39 years—that’s how long my beard was. I’d walked all over and opened many doors. I lived in many places and talked with many people. I recorded and built and created and wrote down things like scarification. I etched my name into the soil’s seed bank. I returned to tell you stories.
But you silenced me before I even said a word. I felt your quiet wrap around when I set foot on that strange foreign land; a completely new place, a place where I would be first–and the first thing I saw was you.
You’d been walking that way for years
You had multiplied, scarified, communed; you’d created
You were all over the land; you were the land
It was marked
Your children told me stories,
in all the different places
they ended up to be
And you were there waiting for me when I returned. Except I don’t know how long it was to you—one collective breath, none, yesterday, all blades of grass at once, society of trees wet with rain. Time is just a string you play with, a string you stitch your seeds to.
Your love is a letter which contains a seed.
People trade your children for money and from them make rich bars of nutrients. They wrap them in colored papers with markings to say,
this is very special, our society values this
This has meaning.
just get this urge to go up to people and,
hold them lightly around their shoulders and say,
I knew this plant when I was just a child. These seed pods grew up over my head my whole life. It was just the thing to do, to pick them and dry them and crush them and grind them and mix them with hot water and drink them. It was just my life. You are eating my life.