Academic journal article Field

Out in the Open

Academic journal article Field

Out in the Open

Article excerpt


Late autumn labyrinth.

A discarded bottle lies at the entrance to the wood.

Walk in. The forest in this season is a silent palace of abandoned


Only a few, precise sounds: as if someone were lifting twigs with


as if, inside each tree-trunk, a hinge was creaking quietly.

Frost has breathed on the mushrooms and they've shrivelled up;

they are like the personal effects of the disappeared.

It is almost dusk. You need to leave now,

find your landmarks again: the rusted implements out in the field

and the house on the other side of the lake, red -brown

and square and solid as a stock-cube.


A letter from America set me off, drove me out

on a white night in June through the empty suburban streets

among built blocks, cool as blueprints, too new to have memories.

The letter in my pocket. My unquiet raging stride a kind of prayer.

Where you are now, evil and good really do have faces.

Here, it's mostly a struggle between roots, numbers, transitions of


Those that run messages for death don't shy from daylight. …

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