Tag Archives: agriculture

Death smells like lemongrass

they used to burn these woods all winter

now the summers do themselves

they had a system worked out
that would emphasize the abundance

the entire territory was the garden
alive and growing like the mind
stepped outside of itself
and began to dance

time’s pole shifted a while back—
yeah—we were in reverse now
didn’t you know—

it’s not a place
until you make it one

like a ring just to see
what your limitations are

how well can you put last years
lessons into practice

a game of hectares, furrowslices & spreadsheets

a temple of agronomical meditation with mantises

when you’re there it consumes you
because it is you because of you

the pregnant deer barrelrolling with a smile
over your first edition fence

a place not to play god but to laugh quietly
in his face—the silence blowing thru the pines

you go there not to forget but you end up doing so
honing in on the accuracy of inputs and outputs

compost teas and microbial inoculants are to soil what kombucha and kimchi are to humans

observation becomes communication
every day—every hour sings a different tune

the finches sneak roosts in the trees 
that weren’t there before you decided
to put them there with leaves tracking the sun

bred, birthed, tended, ammended, and cut down
after eight months of watchful eyes

peering down and counting from the blackbird in the sky

it’s the same song by an evolving band
never once played the same way again

you were either there for it or you weren’t…

lentils spiralcrawl the trellis next to hairy vetch, cowpeas, and carter flax

what started as an idea and came out of a wound
of the corrupt earth to colonize with mycorrhizae

under the moonlight and with the stars we move slow like kelp
into our dying selves taking pictures

of the natural beauty—the sustenence of our meddling—the deathsmiling work at dawn

bees land on the battered tools and machines
some of the butterflies know to evade the bamboo deerfence

brought down by something as simple
as a foot of snow and ice howling

on paper you play the less goes in
more comes out game while battling hazard after hazard

like caltrans spraying fusarium infected cyclamen
on the side of highways to eat weeds

now the amber jars of essential oils
of lemongrass ginger rosemary peppermint
and lavender are miscible on the counter

isaria fumosorosea in the fridge
will mummify them in threads of mycelium
from the inside out

would a buddhist let her buds rot
or would she feed the caterpillars
bioinsecticides for supper

would she breathe and eat the spores of decay
or kill the ones that would cause it responsibly

you can’t bullshit yourself in the garden
it’s right there in your face all the time

everything you’ve done to make it that way
you switch it up—you stick with what works

you learn from your mistakes

even when you leave it you can see it like it gets sucked up inside of you and you carry it around

like a bluejay does a pine needle

you want to know that what you’ve grown
is nutrient dense with proteins

mineral balanced and alive

free from heavy metals, pests and diseases

not like the sugarpacked shit they sell
as produce at most supermarkets
sprayed with cheap deathchems in tyvek

this world is bleak as fuck—doomed to a slow painful death

but it isn’t in the garden

or it doesn’t have to be at least
you spend so much time as one
you know what to expect

you do it right and it can provide you with almost everything you need

all the worries lugged around as a human
dissipate among the quinoa, crimson clover, and buckwheat
at the bottom of the hill

the seeds of medicine to be cherished
in their infinite variation in the fall

where the garden doesn’t end
because of the bad weather
it doesn’t crawl into it’s cave
of the mind and hibernate until spring

they hire seasonal workers come croptober
to hunt us down like bucks on the highways

the garden comes from the mind
and so it returns 

sometimes it shows up in small baggies
in urban areas where people dream of gardening someday

The yellow corn

I don’t want
to grow
that fake ass
corn shit—
what is this
sterile poison—
are you kidding me—
you allow this—
we live here—
I would love
to see you drink it—
to see you dead—
I don’t want
to grow that
fake ass corn shit—
give me the blue stuff
some sunflowers too
with the pumpkins
inbetween
and the legumes
growin’ all up
’round the stalks—
I don’t want
to grow that
fake ass corn shit—
We’re not
your little
lab rats—We
can do it
ourselves—You lie—
say it’s the only way
to feed us all—You’re
full of shit—I aint
having any of it—
I’m goin’ down
to Peru—
I’m never coming
back hue—
You’ve lost
Your microbes
Lost your
Minds


Superproprietary

Reporting live
from the front lines
of corporate takeover

now
they want the market
they founded on
our criminal brick
bodies

our solitary confinement bodies

our shot dead
our stolen children’s
bodies

we got more in there than anywhere
dollar signs for eyes

time is running out
stack the cards just right

they’ll take half
they’ll take it all
it will never be
enough

no, this isn’t freedom—
this isn’t decriminalization—
not when you need a million
for written permission—

you’ll push us
further underground
where we will thrive
like our seeds

like we always have
and always will

without you