Linda R. Quennec: Voiceover

Spring '13 TOC

 

The simple act of curling around a branch.

So many small revolutions, coils tightened snug in proximity. The movement slow but relentless, like morning glory. Vines crawl, squeeze the host.

Tendrils of self-assured thought complicate the vine through twist of rhetoric, broadening leaves. They enter hollows, bitter the root. Thieves of nourishment and constrictors of fluid-flow create a garden of non-diverse selection.

Such things are pervasive, snack on finer things like sunshine, leaving little.

Though they root in other gardens, they creep over borders and at times I cannot find the source. Perhaps they have established here too. It is difficult to breathe.

 

It is a gardener's work to allow the vulnerable to flourish.

 

Flowers loud and ubiquitous bloom without beauty.

 

 

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Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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