How Seeds Travel

Manifestos are a maligned genre.

They are lovely to writers, for they bind us to our beloved, but elusive, simplicity.

They are lovely to readers, who crave one-liners to buoy us up in the garrulous seas.

Seeds travel on elaborate parachutes, in monochromatic manure, on tires, and on fur.

Let’s hear it for dog-eared, irreplaceable, out-of-print nonfiction (here’s my pet title this week), remaindered fables, and  manifestos.

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