Plumelectric Gaiameria Pt. 1

I am a general practitioner in a world where there's nothing but specialists, A melting world with non-melting specialists. (“Himatanthus Willd!”) And my pain has completely lost Her voice as Science in the last two centuries has tended to be ever-dividing-dividing-dividing with My pajamas up since seven on the sofa now eleven... (“Frangipani!”) Where, in abundance, can we shiver the leaves and have our heads shake things out? With them Hawaii grows so abundantly many people think they are indigenous to the The Island System like quarreling lovers are burrowing mothers Are sorrowful daughters, all terrible fathers we are, And related to Oleander they are… Pajama thirty now on the eleven-spot now “Zap-2-it” on-screen, Humankind as the primer by which Gaia will reproduce and I say all this because I love you and me, Though only because you love me do I love me And know what love means, like the poisonous, milky sap So similar to that of Euphorbia… Can I paint broader strokes stepping out of the window of the house I am painting? Paint the colors of the paint? Paint the Carl Sagan Cosmic Viewpoint of the ‘59 space probes: A planet in preparation to go to seed? Where were you when you were born: in a house or in a womb? On your mother or on the ground?