pitchers tuck by buddy don: locull plant life

as ye know, me n miz bd jes caint hardly git a nuff of that thar brooklyn botanick garden. fer the most part, we tend to go everwhar, but we dont hardly never show ye no pitchers of the local plant life, witch they gut em a seckshun deevoted to jes whut grows round here. tiz rite nice, in fack, even ifn taint as specktacklar as them sacred lotuses n tulips n azalyas n such. so heres five pitchers frum that part of the garden, allem tuck on sundy past ...

heres whut ye see at the in trance


heres sum wild bleedin harts, witch i bet ye dint know bleedin hart grows wild up in here, huh?


thisn here putts ye in mind of robert frosts pome bout that path die-virgin in a woods ...


whar wood a lady be without her slippers?


dont recall whut ye call these thangs, but looks kindly lack a hole tree of honeysuckle ...


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