root, 28th March 2017

the more I let go the heavier, one by one finger the lightness of being not being that light after all (if it was I would float like a boat but I plummet funereal depths)…. I’m rooting, fingers and toes pulled into horizons, the humus, the topsoil, the subsoil, the fracture the crack the fault in the bedrock, the more in my eye is a stye, I’m a flash in the pan a fallout of sabotage at my hand, stretching my overstretched sinews to snap
… [but not]…..
the weight of the world underfoot bearing up into me, consumed and subsumed into leaf mould chewed into pulp into minerals, nutrients leached from my skin, muscle and bone, I am porous, calcified, piece by piece awry and dismantled, disengaged, part of the process
… [but not]….
locked in decline, sieved and refined, sound become whispers repressed and compressed into rhizomatous threads that are knotted, garotted in braids while lichen takes all of the time that it needs for its needs without heed without awe of its place in the light…/…

root/…. root out
type/…. type “breath [out]”
history becoming…
beginning becoming
most becoming……… the purity of long decay, a forensic attention unintentional to detail, reducing every atom to the perfect stone to skim across the surface of my skin as I couch it all in terms that you might understand… or [not]
becoming silt
becoming clay
becoming loam
becoming peat
becoming patience measured in a core (im)patient waiting for a time when time will catch me up, find me, tease me out of hibernation my oligotrophic forfeit stagnant in anticipation with an allergy to air
illuvium becoming
fossilised becoming
organically-challenged… alluvial, regolith, fluvial, anthropolith
root/…. erratic [erratic] /

type/…. climate-locked and under pressure, inclined anticline, syncline, isocline, recumbent becoming redundant… [dormant]….. a viscose ptygmatic…. mygmatite, stalactite and stalagmite, becoming weather-worn, eroded without weathering, scrapes and scrape and scrape [and grate] away my new visage exposed and ravaged by the wind and polished by the rain, my edges dulled, pitted, prone to shattering with just the merest inkling of a frost… so the opportune the timing of a rhyme that first defies and then defines the lassitude of time…..

type/…. becoming brittle
type/…. becoming ossified…..


© robert greig 2017


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