At some point

the millennial journeys

across the nomadic fields

of our earliest iterations

returned far more aware

than they had departed –

straying significantly


the roads most travelled

by those whose noses

otherwise stayed


a limb’s reach

of the pungent calls

(and their primal



of the ground.


At this point probably

somewhere upon those first fields

the world was De-sired

as blades of grass sitting between toes

increasingly within sight

of a nosey-eyed



were squeezed there tightly

and yanked in the following movement

(all perhaps for a moment of amusement

against a newly creeping sense of nostril-decayed boredom)

a hair-cut

turning the ground over

and better revealing a face looking for reflection

and the scissoring emboldened by this

cutting through

gone looking for something

a shape –

not just

another tree

in the forest of retention,

but a door, perhaps –

the way out

and thus, it would be

once de-sired

the world coming back together again

but never quite

and never quite the same again;


and thus,

it was,

would be,



When it is time for it

There is an occasional point of growth where the forward-looking repetition of being catches itself aware of its own dynamic process and brings that gaze and concentration, full of desire, back from that which sits just in front of it, its next move, and turns it in on itself, ignoring time hence for now to examine time up to now, searching itself, ultimately studying its own limits through those very limits. And what better way could a movement with such a clear sense of direction be forestalled, be so definitively caught up, than falling into this kind of self-recession, inducing a loop circumscribed by a thing in its fullest capacity trying to under-stand itself, its fullest capacity? And when this does happen, how exactly does a thing of growth find its way back out? How does it escape itself and move forward out towards a future again which is not interrupted by a language of self-realisation being constantly surpassed by the always-as-yet unspoken capacity of each of its latest pronouncements? It does not stop growing within this trap, a fact which same-time ultimately enlarges the trap, keeping the ever-growing thing stuck within a permanently dissatisfied internal movement, beyond the structure of total grasping. Which is not to say that failure could not also exist externally – it certainly does; only that failure in that outer-body context always finds somewhere else to go, the next move to try, whereas “failure trying to define itself” seems to find it very difficult, and might in fact never through itself be able, to move abroad.