Mycorrhiza

mycorrhiza

Written for the exciting and wonderful ‘Magpie Magazine’ http://www.myspace.com/magpiemag

There is a small set of stairs beneath
The smoke and blue-stained primates of a Southern town.
Maybe only three or four paces – no more –
And remarkable only
For the shadows left by my first stretching roots;
Criss-crossing tendrils
Burnt web-like, cordite on concrete, zeniths kissing
Each others fingertips, exchanging secrets and
Pulling liquid out of stone.

I can almost remember when
Knotted barks and dewy brackets
Stretched through that old house, pebble-dashed,
Its windows straining against boughs, the first
Velveteen buds of spring
Rubbing; children’s noses pressed
With blanketed raptures on the bars
Of the cages at the zoo,
Underground, they thicken. Great cracks

Quickly after appeared in concrete –
Years passed beneath the coughing
Of multi-coloured exhausts, white lines
Flashed at eyes beneath a camphor path!
The leaves may curl once a year, but my feet find
Colder sands to press into. Disused slate mines,
Catacombs, tube lines.
Southern towns and pick-axes; these may be
Roots, reflections

To turn on their head, now’s the time!
Let us move outside, take what is ours and push –
Push deep into the soil, find cracks in which to
Force the leaves,
And let the earliest knuckles of drinking wood
See some light, for once.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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