Peter Poppy plucks a petal placed on pavement.
Petals plucked from pavement with perceived pasts and presents.
Present.
Placed poppies powerfully protrude upward puncturing asphalt permanence.
Power to the poppy.
Petals. Placement. Peace.
Layered landscapes – sedimentary layers of landscape stratified by time and context and human constructs – silted and cemented pounded pavement.
Vines and roots twist down between the sedimentary layers of peace and war and laughter and singing and play and violence and attack and abuse and assault and family and love and friendship and beauty and hatred and sunshine and storms and Spanish and Picts and language and Indigeneity and colonization and
and
and…
the invisible to the human eye will always reveal itself – are we ready to see it? If we aren’t ready – it is not there for us – it is only there – to exist – for itself – for the wind, the rain and the sun…
as if to say, “Hey Cosmic parents – I have grown from seed up through the Earth, up through this crack in concrete – to breathe life into the air – to show you that with even the smallest amount of tenderness – the enoughness amount of soil, water, air, and sun – that I can become – for you – to thank you for the enoughness to bring me to life.”
Then my petals will fall here, so softly yet with sharp, bold contrast against the black asphalt – that a human shall notice me – and she will find joy and mystery and sparks of curiosity in my tender ferociousness – that she will know – that she is me and I am her and we are each other.
As a seed – I knew her and now she is able to know me.
where rivers are born 