In the beginning are my hands

they are my skin-cut tools

cracked as dried earth

I trust them, they lead me.

I listen to the passive witness

of stones, their dialogue with trees,

learn how they rely on each other.

I need the energy of peat — the melt of mud

and mineral feed and sheep’s urine on canvas.

Above all I love my icicles — reconstructed,

glued with my spit or draped like lobster

claws and oysters on a plate of river ice.

I square black-rooted bracken stalks

thorn-pin chestnut leaves into floating

snake ribbons until surfaces open up

and nature itself becomes the object found.

I go into its internal spaces — become a shadow

laid down in time as I lie on the ground,

spreadeagled, feeling the rhythm

the gender of rainfall as if I were sand.

(after Andy Goldsworthy)

By Elsa Fischer

This entry was written by ccms_admin and posted in the issue. Bookmark the permalink or share the following short URL for this article via social media:


By ccms_admin

Donec placerat. Nullam nibh dolor, blandit sed, fermentum id, imperdiet sit amet, neque. Nam mollis ultrices justo. Sed tempor. Sed vitae tellus. Etiam sem arcu, eleifend sit amet, gravida eget, porta at, wisi.

Be a part of the Carleton Now community

Carleton Now strives to be an inclusive, relevant and informative publication focused on building and fostering an engaged campus community. You can be a part of our community by: sharing or voting for this article (below), joining in the conversation, or by sending a submission/letter to the editor.

Comments are closed.

Current issue