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  • Lately I walk down streets with flowers stuffed into my pockets.
    My eyes are wild and I am infected with a myriad of smells.
    When did life become so heady? The skies rain perfume
    and everything has become technicolor.
    I walk the streets like some madman.
    Like a pervert with some girl's underwear in his pocket
    I guiltily bring out my magnolia flowers
    from their hidden pockets and inhale deeply
    their erotic scent...
    nature seems rife with sexual connotation
    and I am helplessly turned on.

    Oh, Magnolia! What a wonder!
    Flowers, like cherry coloured-atom bombs
    emerge from branches dull and lifeless.
    There is no energy wasted on leaves
    everything gets poured into the flower.
    Somewhere hidden in that crusty grey and brittle bark
    lies the seeds of this magnificence.

    Did you know that the magnolia genus is older than bees?
    That there have been specimens found dating back 95 million years ago?
    The Chinese say their bark contains healing powers
    but one need only smell this flower to know there's magic in it.
    Beauty is everywhere, especially amidst things we believe could never produce it.
    It feels important that this flower come from nothing other than twigs and bark.
    Beauty does not need to beautify itself, or blow it's own horn.
    Beauty is patient, is humble.

    Beauty is a magnolia petal, drifting on a spring breeze and alighting on my palm.
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