Collards

Collards Illustration by Phil Blank. Mason– Dixon Lines poetry by Maurice Manning Some people plant their collards in rows for a neat, predictable arrangement. Others, however—and this is really the old- fashioned method—plant their collards in a jumble. They loosen 158 a little patch of ground and sling the seed in a blur all over creation. All over creation—allowing the mind to contemplate a vastness is pleasing. And who would argue with creation? The result of the old- fashi oned way puts one in mind of a green sea with a bluish haze above it like a cloud. It looks like everything that is is there, a waist- high and leafy green eternity. I like to lose my sense of order in the green world. That’s what I call it. The green world, it’s beautiful. The distinction between the rows and jumble is probably a metaphor. A metaphor for what is the question, but I’m going to sit on it a while, give it a little time and see if something illuminating comes to mind. Or not. It’s strangely refreshing when nothing illuminating happens. You stand there in the green world and it is what it is, nothing beyond itself, http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Southern Cultures University of North Carolina Press

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Center for the Study of the American South.
ISSN
1534-1488

Abstract

Illustration by Phil Blank. Mason– Dixon Lines poetry by Maurice Manning Some people plant their collards in rows for a neat, predictable arrangement. Others, however—and this is really the old- fashioned method—plant their collards in a jumble. They loosen 158 a little patch of ground and sling the seed in a blur all over creation. All over creation—allowing the mind to contemplate a vastness is pleasing. And who would argue with creation? The result of the old- fashi oned way puts one in mind of a green sea with a bluish haze above it like a cloud. It looks like everything that is is there, a waist- high and leafy green eternity. I like to lose my sense of order in the green world. That’s what I call it. The green world, it’s beautiful. The distinction between the rows and jumble is probably a metaphor. A metaphor for what is the question, but I’m going to sit on it a while, give it a little time and see if something illuminating comes to mind. Or not. It’s strangely refreshing when nothing illuminating happens. You stand there in the green world and it is what it is, nothing beyond itself,

Journal

Southern CulturesUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Apr 7, 2018

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