mere jason was just at the cemet.ry grow.ng a garden of herbs with some mint above dad and orgegano on our mom .he named the rosemary bushes.. dear horace fish maude hollingshead benjamin hull juliet wall. or rather he planted them growing into their names. .the bees sucking sepals near petals mere jason just wanted one morn.ng some chamomile tea from the flowers developed from grandmother.s chest bosom of bloom heart of gold centered green her deepness unearthed in his belly at least he tended some dew drawn straight from the leaves of grandfather.s grass grown by his groin or his neck or his head. his infant son.s grave he felt would be fine with some flowering thyme. what else would he do.. the moon not his pilot the sod not his soul the red iron dust in his heart moving on.