I plant an apple tree and wait for you to crawl through the grass toward me, and open my eyes to delicious worldly delight.

I plant red roses to remind me of the way your hips moved in the candlelight in the Moroccan hotel room the night before the bomb went off in the marketplace.

I plant blackberry bushes that will crawl with copper spiders and throb with silver bees.

I dig up the skulls of foxes and badgers.

I plant grape vines and wait for them to crawl up the brick wall, through the window, across our bedroom floor, and wrap themselves about our naked bodies.

I erect a circle of rocks as an astral calendar and landing site for aliens.

I plant a patch of poppies so I can tumble through delirious dreams, chased by winged fish and leopards with human faces.

I bury a book of dangerous curses.

I plant wolfbane and deadly nightshade, to add a sense of danger.

I plant ginger root that grows twisted beneath the ground in the shape of mummified fairies.

I set fire to your anxieties, and bury the ashes to attract the worms.

I plant aromatic herbs for use in various enchantments: Comfrey for protection whilst traveling under a curse; Arabic gum to ward off evil; Banyan for good fortune; Avocado for lust; Basil for exorcism and flying through the air.

I grow beets as large and red beneath the soil as the still-beating heart of a savage gnome.

In the rich soil above the grave of the feral cat who was killed by lightning, I plant pomegranates, saffron, frankincense, myrrh, cinnamon, and aloes to soothe your flesh.

I plant the pages of used telephone books, barbecue assembly instructions, investment literature and Sears catalogues. I wait for them to grow into folktales and sheet music.

I set fire to a bonfire of thorns, grass, vines, creepers, dead branches and brambles. I watch bright sparks and luminous moths rising like angels into the twilight.

I plant cannabis in order to cause anarchy in the streets and destabilize Western civilization.

I plant a plum tree so that the neighbourhood children can climb into its branches to watch icy comets and lunar eclipses, and so that Ukrainian grandmothers can play accordions with juice-stained hands.

I plant green tea so that, many years from now, we can sit under the shade of our apple tree watching the giant ornamental fish move beneath the surface of the pond, china cups resting in the grass beside us, as the seasons come and go.