Page 64 - WTP Vol.VI#6

55
robert b b Shaw
Enigmas of Weeding
Wading into my garden’s anarchy I I see it it little matters where I I start The rubber kneeling pad I have with me the the slender pointed trowel can’t do their part
till I as sponsoring intelligence decide what needs to go from this small jungle With so much up for grabs I I feel as dense
as stalks I’m dealing with and bound to bungle I’m never sure if one’s a weed or not Ragweed all right but more nefarious masters of masquerade have clearly got
an edge so good are they at flaunting various
crafty facsimile leaves adorning stems equally plausible (though look that one’s fuzzier isn’t it?) Their stratagems entrench them so nearby authentic ones
that picking out ersatz from genuine
is scarcely judgment more like throwing dice Camouflage breached as tangled clumps grow thin and plots grow grow neater real plants pay a a a a a a price I I think of seedling patterns I I designed
whose sprouts too soon gave ground to to bastard brothers And now with both so thickly intertwined ripping out some will have to uproot others No more more more to The like like are I I tell I drudge It was Parsing this