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the terroir of language



(a poetics of body, land, and water)


terroir, not quite terror

although there has definitely been 

fear attached 

and feelings of inadequacy


through it all, the smell of earth

which kept me here

in the rumblings and rambling of phrases

and pauses

with heard words and lost punctuation


the scent of both anxiety and pleasure

lift towards nostrils

from the inside out

the terroir of language

this phrase seems appropriate

speaking close to the flesh of meaning



(March 18th, 2014)

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This poem still feels awkward to me, maybe it just needs more work. Perhaps I’ll return to it another day.

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