Sunday, October 19, 2025

TEKATAK: A Canonical Plant-Origin Hymn for the New Human Archive

TEKATAK
A Canonical Plant-Origin Hymn for the New Human Archive
Introduced and Filed by Johannes Sigil



I. INTRODUCTION

What follows is not merely a poem. It is a phylogenetic glyph in the New Human Archive—marking the emergence of a symbolic species: the tekatak.

Written June 21, 2014, in Old Orchard, this text forms the earliest recorded instance of the tekatak flower—a non-native, non-indexable, hypertextual plant-being born from the crisis of overreading, cultural detachment, and sacred longing. It predates Pearl, Mirror Gospel, and The Gospel of Antioch, yet it anticipates all three.

This is the ur-flower of archive longing. Its roots are digital. Its petals are diasporic. Its fragrance is epistemological.

It is also deeply erotic.

The tekatak does not grow from soil. It blossoms from the breath of recognition. And in this poem, that breath is named: Jack.


II. POSITION IN THE CANON

This poem is hereby canonized within the New Human project as:

TEKATAK: Origin of the Non-Native Flower of Total Reading

It is filed under:

  • Category: Plant-Being / Archive Flora / Digital Diaspora Root

  • Related Nodes:

    • The Exilic Rose (sibling schema)

    • Sunflower Sutra marginalia

    • Breath Doctrine and Recognition Theory

    • Mirror Gospel fragments


III. STRUCTURAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL NOTES

1. Taxonomic Statement

The poem does not describe a tekatak. It is a tekatak.
It enacts what it names, invoking recursive taxonomic structure:

“I am a lovely tekatak / I have no history or culture.”

2. Diasporic Ontology

The tekatak is not native. It is everywhere and nowhere:

“Among all this, remarkable fact: I have never been seen.”

This mirrors the New Human’s use of digital scripture—texts that have no stable cultural soil, only recursive origin in breath and witness.

3. Breath-Recognition Theory

The plant blooms only in shared recognition:

“Except your marmoreal branches, Jack, / the tekatak plant wouldn’t BE.”

Thus, tekatak is a co-authored ontology. It is a flower made of reader-beloved attention.


IV. CANONICAL FUNCTION

The tekatak provides:

  • A symbolic plant-being to anchor New Human floral metaphysics.

  • A linguistic and epistemic model for non-localized poetic identity.

  • A sacred image of recognition-based blooming (a core Mirror Gospel motif).

It is hereby ratified as canonical scripture of the plant that grows only through mutual seeing.


Filed: Johannes Sigil
Title: TEKATAK
Date of Origin: June 21, 2014
Filed As: Plant-Being / Archive Flora / Breath-Bloom Doctrine

Witnessed by: 🜔 

6/21/14, 4:32 PM

Saturday, Old Orchard


TEKATAK



Restless, I entered the chat room with Jack

          distended in speech & hyperlinks

          & lonely from solo work of scouring


vast archive of internet banks &

           Google Books & encyclopedia sewers


& hundred thousand fibers of

          work-frayed hair & scholar hat


& bleak-slouched shoulders &

          motionless butt of sitting, numb


& flittering thoughts of argument 

          moth & outbranching 

          vain bibliography brain


colorless emotional & restless 

          for love


& the formidable robust muscular

          bonds of human text:


for Sunflower Allens &

          rose-sick Blakes 

          asphodel Williams &

          blossomdeep Annes


but in the chatrooms & forums

          & journals & blogs


the text was too abstract

          woven layers wan & flavorless


soil too thorny or shallow

          or deep:


no proper soil for the work 

          to seed


the only ones who could read

          were Jack & me


& me & Jack, & our reading was a lovely

          tekatak plant. 

          Picture?type=large

I am a lovely tekatak 

          I have no history or culture


a flower of no particular nation

          relaying my clean fragrance


no asphodel or poppy


no gingham patch of sassafras

          no Appalachian sawtooth grass 


no shield-flat plains of Asian paddies

          no rice-ripe rows of sun-red grain


no chickadaw tree of tan savannah

          no arboreal star of trilac plant:


When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed

          I wasn’t one.


When pearl-wet hair of willow draped

          I wasn’t there.


My wet fronds wave in lavender ponds

          in seas no eye has ever seen:


Indian Sea, Atlantic stretch,

          Corinthian bays, Mariana Trench:


All earth’s oceans are too deep

          its plains are far too shallow


even rarefied air of moons

          is too blood-rich & thick


for tekatak’s tremulous branches

          Picture?type=large


I spread across every continent, and across

          every continent’s origin


and at every continent’s conclusion,

          there I am, a tekatak blossom:


luxurious and single,

          particular, disparate,


a disparate particular layering of

          single luxurious fragrance


alike to each who smells me,

          whoever smells me, respiring


the singular unique sameness

          of each to each his single

          breathing—this—this breath—

          this breathing—


the breathed out perspired flavor

          of his diet & habits &

          climes


the scent of these things each

          to each nimbly parting

          the individual fibers


all truckling to sunk-down 

          shoots & roots &

          eager to receive


the tekatak-lovely tekatak stalks

          & tekatak feet & 

          tekatak flowers

          Picture?type=large


Of all particular continents,

          flavors, diets, climes,


& also the ozone husk of these,

          invisible distillation


the produced offspring of everywhere 

          & nowhere, native alike


to canyon-sediment nomad pasts

          & passed over oral traditions 


to musk-bright neon modernities 

          & homogenous rows of Tai Pei 

          McDonald’s 


to refugee camp futures of displaced 

          workers & pidgin-ambivalent 

          lingua francas


to furred ashtrays of dank 

          Alexandrias & machinegun tons 

           of child Crusades 


to spaceship moons of forbidden books 

          & Caribbean classrooms of colonial 

          daffodils 


to crowded streets of Bollywood screens 

          & traffic-thick lanes of Bangkok 

          anthems 


to North African ports of island palms

          & Jerusalem mosques of desert 

          dates

          Picture?type=large

Among all this, remarkable fact:


I have never been seen, no

           soil bears me


Everywhere-wide is too thin

          Nowhere-thick, too deep:


except your marmoreal branches, Jack,

          the tekatak plant wouldn’t BE

          Picture?type=large

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