Feb. 20th, 2011
Three kinds of hollyhock seed liberated in 2002 from the Temple community gardens at 15th and S Streets: black, pink, and white. I have been saving them towards this day.
Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry -
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.
In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That will drink deeply of a century's streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.
Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can blow a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.
-- Muriel Stuart
What this says is that it's the cover of Volume Two of cute Japanese toys to needle felt out of cat hair.
It's all over for Caucasians.