from bud to bloom to death and decay

I came across this poem written by Piscean poet Dior J. Stephens today, on the plum and the plum tree.

Naturally, as a fruit and tree and flower dear to my heart, I wanted to share this evocative poem and essay they wrote contemplating the unapologetic space a plum tree takes up, how the overabundance of fruition results in souring and decay relating to the waste we leave behind.

What then, does the possibility of the regeneration of this ‘waste’ carry for us, in our bodies, our ecosystems, our world?

UYP 7

from CRUEL/CRUEL by Dior J. Stephens

i.

PLUM HONEY PLUM SMOOTH PLUM OVERABUNDANCE
PLUM SPIRAL PLUM MERITOCRACY PLUM HAY BEETLE
PLUM WEIGHT OF ALL PLUM OVERTURNED REINSTATED
REDEFINED PLUM SHIVER LIKE HONEYBEES PLUM SASHAY
IN THE GOLD SWAT PLUM INTERRUPTION FROM THE SUB/
DIMENSION PLUM RUTABAGA PLUM SACRIFICE ON MOLE
HILL PLUM BELIEF THAT ONE DAY THE SIGNS WILL BE
CLEAR AS FROST PLUM FIRE FISH LIKES NOTHING RAW
PLUM FOOL PLUM IRONY PLUM MEAT THAT GRINDS AND
REDEFINES PLUM SUFFRAGE FOR AN OVERDUE SPRING
PLUM HONEYSUCKLE PLUM PLUM WHAT WASTE IS IMPLICIT
IN FRUITION PLUM MIGHT PLUM DIRECT HOLY PLUM HOLY

PLUM HOLY,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

ii.
pretending at something,
plum split open,
purple puss—
                                            playing computer,
                                            billowing
                                                          dry
                                            palm,

praying sideways,
praying more,
                                            cause
possibly

pirouetting up riptides
               with a
pumpkin headed
prissy-boy
pristine in
painted neon,

pretending &
polling & proclivities &

How might the plum elucidate a new paradigm of communal potential?

- Dior J. Stephens

From Dior J Stephens ‘PLUM ESSAY” on “UYP 7”:

The plum and the plum tree, then, became a philosophical center for me. Or, if not center, a lily pad of poetic thought, leading me to reflect on what exactly it meant for such fruition, such overabundance, to result in death, rot, and souring. And how, in a number of ways, these stages of growth remarked upon the trends of capitalism, (over)production and exploitation in Western society.

I couldn’t help but wonder, day after day, if this cycle—that of bud to bloom to death and decay—was inevitable in all arenas of life. We all know that every living thing will one day come to die, but what of the structures, institutions and empires that we all operate in and that continue to outlive us? Are they exempt from this trajectory? How have we, as a collective society, allowed and perpetuated these superstructures? The plum led me to wonder: in our current reality—our day-to-day—how might we envision the dismantling of this exploitative ‘united’ empire and craft the beginning of something fresh? What tools would this require, from human and nature alike? Tools that would upend this cycle of fruitless waste and repurpose rot, decay and destruction with recycling, reprocessing, recirculation for the benefit of all?

The plum tree embodies this process, as do the fruits it produces. Even the rotten plums cast to the Earth would, over time, get composted or mashed into the soil where its end-of-life might bring about the beginning stages of, potentially, another several cycles.

And this was precisely where I found myself stuck in thought, within the realization that Mother Nature has, arguably, already perfected this cycle and that the fruits of its labor are always around us—integrated into every waking moment we experience on this Earth.

There are so many tiny moments in this life where I am floored at the inconceivable wonder of all nature is—what it can do and create—and just how beautifully it does it. How it’s been doing this for thousands of years. How it will, hopefully, continue to do so long after humanity has reached the end of its life cycle. I wondered: how might the plum, as object, elucidate a new paradigm of communal potential?