A Plant Idiot

as a symptom of birth
or lack of inclination
or both
I’ll never know the names of the roses
that compel me for a moment as I walk by

or the names of most trees who own the leaves
that shade me when I pass

much less the names of bushes, plants or flowers

at times it seems there is a whole language
I cannot read

I imagine it would enhance my experience
and certainly would expand my powers of expression
at moments like these
when I want to say something as simple as:

I watched the aloe vera bloom
wave heavy in the October breeze

I’m sure just enjoying it is fine
maybe plant-mind
plant-consciousness resents
the confines of human desire
to contain and quantify,
and resents these man-made names anyway.

I am the plant illiterate
a plant idiot
a grown man looking at a picture book


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