Hands Cut Off Found Floating on Ocean

I read the headline of Googlenews:
Another hand, cut off, found in the ocean...
I was interested in something else that day,
  and didn't read it carefully.
But the image stayed with me: a flotilla of
  hands like the deadly bloom of
  talented algae that glows red and
  kills everything it covers.
Hands that could no longer play piano;
Hands that could no longer caress a lover's cheek;
Hands that could not press the keyboard's magic
  letters to Google news and write blogs.

Who would keep cutting off hands?
I googled "hands cut off" float news but
  already it was too late to catch that
  sickening image. News doesn't last.
But I learned --
  if that's the right word, learned --
That there is a band called Cut Off Hands,
  and they must be popular and
Bands can be called anything at all, and are,
Much to our dismay. The Dog Liver Bleedouts;
The Flea Infested Ivy Boys;
The Carpal Tunnel Rats;
The Crazed Carcinogens.
You wait! They'll be bands sooner or later.

So Little Do I Know of Plants

So little do I know of plants – but that
Peonies crawl with ants
  making excursions across the tight buds to
  Pantry? Dinner? Perfume counter?
And ferns, though trampled on and crushed
  to the corm,
  brown and rotted,
  always come back the next year.
Chicory seems impossible, even with abuse
  copying that of car tires, exhaust fumes,
  gravel, dirt with no thing living
  in it but germs. It just won’t grow.
Trumpet vines can overpower even wild honeysuckle,
  and grow on the woodlike twisted stems.
Acorns that fall on the ground in large numbers are
  treacherous to walk on --
  like walking on marbles.
Some leaves stay green on one half and
  yellow or red on the
  other half before they fall off.
A weed can be tugged out easier if
  you give it a fast quick little pull,
  then wait for a few seconds – as if to fool it –
  before yanking it out whole.
  This almost always works!
Sycamore bark falls off
  not every year, but in great batches, like
  scabs being flung off new skin, every few years.
A leaf can become so waterlogged on the
  creek’s surface that it will sink,
  and blink yellow or green at you
  from under water.