ISSUE TWELVE

Fertile ground is the song of life.

But where do our ideas come from, these invisible, powdery, and amorphous follicles that are both part of us and born from us? In order for ideas to dot our gills, they need to be fed, and this cannot be done by us alone. For mycorrhizal mushrooms, feeding occurs through fine, cobweb-like roots that attach themselves to plant and tree roots. The hair-like root fungus, a seemingly tangled mess, is a meticulous mutual feeding network, with the mushrooms providing nitrogen and phosphorous to flowering plants, sending these nutrients up to their roots as gifts. In return, the plants pour life-giving sugars into the roots that the fungi feed upon, enabling them to grow and, if the conditions are right, to make spores.

This reciprocal exchange between fungi and trees reminds me of how our ideas coalesce. Through the rhizomic networks of our communities, and among the co-conspirators and co-inhabitants of the places we live in or the spaces we trawl, scroll, and comment within, we exchange vital information. For those who create, these nuggets of experiences, memories, and knowledge are transmuted and grow into poems, essays, photographs, and paintings, before they are disseminated back out again, to feed those who need it most. Each voice, even if transmitting the same idea as another, perfects its message with idiosyncrasies unique to its tone. When one voice might not reach certain notes, another joins in and does so.

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

Threads That Bind.