burning & wildoat-picking when
I was a teenager:
After … wading amongst rods of wheat-heads
or fine barbed fibres of barley awns, crouching
to an horizon of swaying corn to spot
the taller intruders of wildoat heads – thrust
above like green pylons, the spear tear-drops
of their husks & awns spreading threatening
chandeliers of weed …
After … gripping the fine-ribbed, juice-filled
stems close to the ground to tug
dark-clad roots free,
shaking soil away, folding thick stems, compressing
slaughtered wildoats into blue
sweaty-sock-stinking fertiliser bags …
After … hauling blue plastic bags of jabbing
stalks, slung on sunned shoulders,
to the ditch-side dump, the plastic smoothly burning
clenched knuckles. After …
days of this – falling asleep –
perhaps the sixth night, wildoats would dance
in front of my open eyes, my bedroom walls corn
swaying – waiting …
to be picked clean.
And after … pitch-forking meteors of burning straw, sprinkling sparks onto tinder-dry windrows, igniting
the combine’s un-baled stripes – fuses
crackling into a field inferno; feeling
arm-hairs curl and flame-filled air slice
smoke-tongues through my eyes …
After … only a mere day of this – falling asleep –
my bedroom wallpaper would burn, flames
shot from parts of its pattern, smoke
slipping in front of my just
open eyes. As if a glass
with projected images had slid
across my vision. My mind
impregnated and replaying. Not
letting go. Recalling
– this recalling – I see how easily
constant intense experiences sculpt
the field
of a mind’s
axons; set a soul’s design;
pre-define
dreams; lull a
person to
sleep …
Cover image: Dominique Cameron, Tractor trailer, charcoal on paper, 33x25cm, 2019
dominiquefcameron.com
This is part of FIELDS, a section of The Learned Pig devoted to exploring fields as natural and (agri)cultural, invisible and visible, poor and productive, created and creators. FIELDS is conceived and edited by Marloe Mens.
