pen-poised, 5/July/17

the landscape’s waiting to be written….
I sit pen-poised staring at the unmade…..
what if my pen runs out of ink part-way through…….. or before I even start?…….
it’s there, hiding, it won’t come out until….. until it’s invented, put into words, each line given space and place along the lines of other lines, some straight, some not, some much like knots, some will go this way and some will go that way, some will join and shake their unmade hands while others stand apart and other others will flit and skit about……
but what to write, what’s to be made of the unmade…..
blank slate/ screen/ canvas/ stare….. (delete as appropriate)
the landscape’s waiting to be written….
given a lexicon, definitions, a grammar, a pronunciation, through which it might communicate something, anything, whateverthing………
mine is a bit-part, peripheral, to leaks words from my poised pen and let them do their thing…… let them congregate, separate, facilitate, associate, implicate, infiltrate, suppurate, disseminate, sublimate, innovate, resonate, murmurate……….. let my mind do the walking, let it off the leash, stand back and watch it do what it does, whether that be rolling in mud, chasing sticks, humping legs or peeing on trees…….. let nature take its unnerving course….. it doesn’t need my help, I’d only mess it up, get in the way…….
the landscape’s waiting to be written and I sit pen-poised……..

© robert greig 2017

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