I received a gift today, a new plant, that smells like the cold, like my mother. It brings life to my frost and diffuses the dark where I dwell. Its leaves are lush valleys and its roots originate with the dead, even though they were separated at birth. These roots do not know to what bones they were tied, which tired bones they would have grown around if only they were planted on a cemetery. I prefer it that way, because this plant is new and unworn and every drop of water makes it sing with pleasure. It is nice to be needed by something so independently rooted.

One comment

  1. Ici le ciel n est pas calme,je plante un ciel sauvage, il y a un orage orange qui gronde , ce sont les peaux bleues, ils viennent te chercher ,ils te prendront dans leurs ombres ils t envelopperont quand tu leveras les yeux ils seront deja la , a te regarder dans le trou ou tu es tombe dans la mer de la contemplation et d ou tu sois dans le salon,ils t emmeneront t emmeneront au diable , ils ne partiront pas sans toi du salon de la ferme de breda.

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