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"petioles" poems
IV Dear Frank, My father, who was the wisest man I ever knew, thought it the duty of every man, young & old, to keep an account of his money; & I very unwillingly obeyed him; for I was not always so bothersome an old fellow as I daresay I appear to you. . . . My dear Father, I have sent cheque to a repeated bill from Griffin. A thermometer has come from Kew, For which I have also paid. I go on maundering about the pulvinus, & from what I have seen roughly in the petioles of the Cotyledons of oxalis, I conclude that a pulvinus must be developed from ordinary cells. I have tried watering Porliera out of doors, I gave four small cans full in the day & next morning it was wide open though for several days before it had been shut. The pot-plant is very unhealthy I am afraid As its leaves are dropping off at the stalk. I was very glad to find that Sachs is dead against all the people that find the Descendenz theory in Ray, Lamarck, Goethe &c.; Sachs says that he believes some ferns of the family Marratiaceae sleep . . . Dear F, I have finished the long chapter on Sleeping Plants & sent it to Mr Norman to copy & diagrams to Mr Cooper. I am now looking over piles of notes on Heliotropism. I am more perplexed than ever about life of Dr. D: Hen thinks it very dull, & wants it much shortened & otherwise arranged. Erasmus likes it. Your mother wants parts shortened. I shall take it on Aug. 1st to the Lakes & finish it there. I am tired— Ever yours C. Darwin
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
The Language of Leaves 4:5
Submerged in slumbering marshes of youth soot riddled, benign mole mermaids and Jupiter bathed in the water of her soul shape shifting contradictions crumbs of a whole Strewn in the irony of thorned garlands on eggshell whims, jettisoning off cliffs She plunged headfirst seeking his gnawed bristle lips lattice tresses curving along his finger tips Scrambling she held a chisel in one hand the other groping a Jade shard fledging yearnings to make hay in the barnyard As surly incense sticks turned to ashes on a wedding card Serendipity experienced by intertwining fibers of a coarse, unruly yarn parables murmured to her torso he laid sprawled in the barn plucking leaves off petioles in her threadbare farm
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Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
Of wary hearts