Algo Poetry-Behind the Lines

I love the smell of cis-3-hexenal in the morning

Today’s 33rd poem from Unreconciled Doors, goes Behind the Lines and fences of suburbia’s meticulously manicured lawns and into the dark heart of grass hell.

That olfactory offering which conjures nostalgic gnosis of summers past ,is ,in fact, an early warning system that petrol powered genocide is literally at hand for our green bladed buddies.

cis-3-hexenal is leaf alcohol, emitted to warn other blades of the “Bladed hell” of your lawnmower.

It’s an unstable molecule, but a close relative of it would be bottled and used in perfume.

So, for all summer someliers, sipping ice-tea on the lawn, after a hard day’s gardening, that bouquet wafting up your nostrils is the dying cry of what you have, already, compacted in the compost!.

Think about that before your first cut of the year, you mulching murderers!!

In Jest,



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