garden porn

O! Peas! In all of your glory! The snails could not defeat you!

You! Such beauty!

Again, the most fluttery of ovum, your petals in my mouth like raw silk on a river.

My sweet chirper your irascible paddywhacks in my ears. No! I will not drink from your feeder. Do not concern yourself.


We are in Oakland. Close by: a roofing company with a rottweiler named Joe. A linens cleaning factory. An organic bakery. But you would never know it from your faces, sly peas.


Your tag does not lie.


Dang peas, you are so pretty.


A row of miscellany: calendula, celery, lettuces, baby peas, onions, poppy...

A convergence of objects: slipper; poppy above cabbage leaf; oregano petals; pea shadow; calendula petals.

I cannot rid you of your aphids, not with my treatments of soapy dishwater nor diatemaceous earf. Damn the aphids, how they klingon to your dino leaves.

With the sun in my hair I look just like Polly Anna.