Am working on a genetically altered eclogue at the moment - a potato
digging poem (I mean, it lends itself...). People here in Cambridge
are really laughing that protestors dug up the wrong potato crop -
ie not the genetically altered one - but I reckon the point made is
the same and even so the "clean" crop probably wasn't so clean
after all. I mean, the "earthiness" of the digging process may be a
little problematic with fertilizer burn and pesticide poisoning...
The vegan list Tracy and I subscribe to is full of stuff on animal
DNA being used to increase the resistance of vegetables to pests etc.
Spontaneous generation is at least part-way here! So, to the
eclogue... a dialogue between a farmer and protestor... or farmer as
genetic engineer with a voice s/he thinks is equal to that of the
Gods - another construct of the urban "spaces"? And what about the
more recent additions to the English poetry canon - next it will be
delving into the peat for radioactive bogmen! Ah, that will be the
Second Eclogue... of this series...
Best
JK
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