"Some experts said it was the greatest mass extinction since the dinosaurs."
—page 16, from
The Botanical Garden by Ellen Welcker
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The Botanical Garden by Ellen Welcker is a strange and short book-length poem. I was perusing the poetry book shelves at
Orca Books of Olympia,Washington when I noticed this small square volume. I was initially attracted to the sperm whale on the cover and the incongruity between it and the title.
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"Fifty years after whaling began, refugee populations in the Arctic Ocean had dropped so much that they were no longer considered an industry."
—page 25
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But it was the words within that finally drew me in and had me heading toward the counter to purchase it. Poking about through its pages had me intrigued, captivated. There were themes, but there were as many digressions as there were consistent threads.
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"Immigrants are huge, but elusive and difficult to see which adds to their mystery and fascination. They are highly intelligent animals with an elaborate social life, no possessions, and the complete freed of movement in three dimensions."
—page 30
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It reminds me of
Notes on Sea & Shore by Greta Wrolstad. It reminds me of
Notes From A Bottle Found on the Beach at Carmel by Evan S. Connell. It reminds me of
Europeana: A Brief History of the Twentieth Century by Patrik Ouředník. It reminds me of
Moby-Dick by Herman Melville.
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"You who name mountains, oceans, and desolate towns: tell me the idea of your country. Tell me its contours and flags and animals and industries. Tell me why it is, then tell me if the idea of being is a beautiful fusion."
—page 37
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The text is concerned with borders and barriers, even as it transcends them. It confuses and conflates human and whale, mother and child, geographies and bodies. Information about whales and information about refugees and immigrants trade places.
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"The game was called Border Patrol. The objective: 'to keep them out...at any cost!' Players had the opportunity to shoot any and all of the four types of border crossers: 'Nationalist,' 'Drug Smuggler,' 'Breeder,' or 'Krill Eater.'"
—page 44
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Categories are collapsed. Countries are shown to be nothing more than empty names. And, in the midst of everything being swept away in some sense, there is still the sea, always the sea.
