I'm out of jail now, with a Des Moines court case to look forward to. Much thanks to all of you and especially to the brave activists at the center of that toxic cornucopia of the world. You stand in lonely opposition to Monsanto's annual party, where the state capitol building is rented for the weekend by that bully corporation - unbelievable! - and the state troopers are hired as bouncers, literally, checking ID's and arresting citizens of conscience.
Oh Iowa! How tragic a land to live in - this Iowa that has rightly thought of itself as a blessing. The deep rich soil of Iowa has been sustaining so many of us for so long and then the glyphosates snuck up on us and now over-rule the complexity of loamy earth. No state in the union absorbs the saturating tons of Monsanto's RoundUp like Iowa. And so there is this big party in the middle of all this black earth that the party poisoned. And the state troopers guarding the corporate ritual of self-congratulation are all dressed the same, with the same gestures and expressions - the human reflection of the mono-culture of plant-life that this corporation stretches out to the horizon.
Iowa! This sad mono-culture of Iowa, the identical plants as far as the eye can see, are covered with the wrong kind of quiet. No songbirds or butterflys or wild bees... The wind blows and it is lifeless wind. We feel the sensation of extinction. Life knows when the life around it is cheated, and the activists of Iowa are witness to the passing of a very generous kind of life, the legendary growing season, the envy of the world!
A century ago my father's grandparents, William and Lena Talen, worked an Iowa farm. That was back before the word "organic" became necessary to defend the natural making of food against the laboratories of speculative capital.
I want to be with you Iowa activists as you revive your place. I share your vision that Iowa will be one great self-re-generating farm again, a place surging with life. Iowa remembers when its air and water and soil was thick with living beings, and that long memory has resurrection in it.
Photo by Sharon Donovan