Thursday, February 25, 2016

Point




and pointing to a favorite.  Once a year this commanding beauty blooms.  So get yourself to SF Botanical Gardens today! The Puya are in bloom.  A bromeliaceae, a terrestrial plant.  From the Mapuche Indian "point."

It's doubtful that Pantone has a color assigned specifically for the puya.  This is a loss.  Like a page without a poem.  Plate, without the company of food.

And that, friends, is the point.

1 comment:

  1. Planetary truths

    I walk to the fabric store for some project that seems on and off.The city is slow. It's Friday but it seems like Monday. I pick up some take out, go back to work.
    The candy heart says all things. I chew it 'til it's gone.

    Some clearing in the brambles field
    Some stubborn flowering delusion stays on.
    I get on my bus, go home
    to follow the other route to China
    with its promise of silk, spices, tea.
    February ends with a blast of wind
    all rustles around in a trashy dream of a kiss.

    1997

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