<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Re-reading Theses on Feuerbach at the allotment<\/strong><\/p>\n I \u2022 Filthy as new potatoes freshly dug, II \u2022 My thoughts are solid: I imagine into life III \u2022 I practice revolution: sow nasturtiums, IV \u2022 No more us and them, spirit and flesh: V \u2022 Contemplate these substances: the give VI \u2022 Dream the divine to shape: godly knuckles VII \u2022 What’s mystical is worm-riddled, VIII \u2022 Touch is mystery: the stab IX \u2022 Monks and hermits know this: tree roots X \u2022 Such is the real: the rioting of bindweed, XI \u2022 It all strives to one point, this bud:
\nmuck on the hands is everything.<\/p>\n
\nbroad beans, Swiss chard, earthed leeks, curly kale.<\/p>\n
\ngorge on brambles, lick black juice from fingers.<\/p>\n
\nsoil is sacred, horse manure is holy.<\/p>\n
\nof softening tomatoes, mildew on cucumbers.<\/p>\n
\nround the plum tree, incense of compost.<\/p>\n
\nsourly angelic like the glow of sloes.<\/p>\n
\nof nettles, lacerations of a new-laid hedge.<\/p>\n
\netch the paths to summits, keep us face down.<\/p>\n
\ninvasions of ants, slugs on the march.<\/p>\n
\nwhy not be changed, changed into fire?<\/p>\n