#1 2008-05-10 23:26:21

Many of you who grow those wonderful red fruits will recognise an enemy in the following. But consider - the "evil" Manduca quinquemaculata is only trying to live and procreate its kind, just as you are.

Hornworm: Summer Reverie

Here in caterpillar country
I learned how to survive
by pretending to be a dragon.
See me put on that look
of slow and fierce surprise
when I lift my bulbous head
and glare at an intruder.
Nobody seems to guess
how gentle I really am,
content most of the time
simply to disappear
by melting into the scenery.
Smooth and fatty and long,
with seven white stripes
painted on either side
and a sharp little horn for a tail,
I lie stretched out on a leaf,
pale green on my bed of green,
munching, munching.


Hornworm: Autumn Lamentation

Since that first morning when I crawled
into the world, a naked grubby thing,
and found the world unkind,
my dearest faith has been that this
is but a trial: I shall be changed.
In my imaginings I have already spent
my brooding winter underground,
unfolded silky powdered wings, and climbed
into the air, free as a puff of cloud
to sail over the steaming fields,
alighting anywhere I pleased,
thrusting into deep tubular flowers.

It is not so: there may be nectar
in those cups, but not for me.
All day, all night, I carry on my back
embedded in my flesh, two rows
of little white cocoons,
so neatly stacked
they look like eggs in a crate.
And I am eaten half away.

If I can gather strength enough
I'll try to burrow under a stone
and spin myself a purse
in which to sleep away the cold;
though when the sun kisses the earth
again, I know I won't be there.
Instead, out of my chrysalis
will break, like robbers from a tomb,
a swarm of parasitic flies,
leaving my wasted husk behind.

Sir, you with the red snippers
in your hand, hovering over me,
casting your shadow, I greet you,
whether you come as an angel of death
or of mercy. But tell me,
before you choose to slice me in two:
Who can understand the ways
of the Great Worm in the Sky?

     -  Stanley Kunitz

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#2 2008-05-10 23:47:17

My dad, who passed away a few weeks ago, used to place them in the alley and set them on fire with lighter fluid.  Ah, childhood memories...

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#3 2008-05-11 00:10:10

I love to grow veggies.

I am leaving my beautiful garden just as things are getting good. I harvested my spring veggies, and the summer ones are looking good.

I hope the next residents here don't just let it go. That would be sad.

I have no pest problems here in Nevada like I did in California. Just crappy alkaline soil to acidify with sulphur.

I'd like to see this dude write an ode to potato bugs.

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#4 2008-05-11 00:14:46

headkicker_girl wrote:

Ah, childhood memories...

My father and I would toss them into the stream next to our house for the fish to eat.

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#5 2008-05-11 00:36:29

The reason I love those verses is that, post retirement, my dad waged unrelenting war on them. They were plucked off the plants, pinched into pieces, and fed to the bluegill that inhabited the unused swimming pool. When BT came along, it fell like snow. Yet, when once he found a chrysalis, he saved it in a protected location, to bring forth another moth. Biologists are like that, I guess.

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#6 2008-05-11 05:25:25

I took a class with Kunitz once. Hard to believe he was the Poet Laureate of the US.

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#8 2008-05-11 08:04:53

sofaking wrote:

I love to grow veggies.

I am leaving my beautiful garden just as things are getting good. I harvested my spring veggies, and the summer ones are looking good.

I hope the next residents here don't just let it go. That would be sad.

I have no pest problems here in Nevada like I did in California. Just crappy alkaline soil to acidify with sulphur.

I'd like to see this dude write an ode to potato bugs.

Fucking potato bugs are evil and deserve to die.   I used to tell my sister that Ruffles brand potato chips were potato bugs after being executed in a hair crimper (It was the late 80's).

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