The field is immense and discrete.
A seed must be buried in it to live.
Paul says it this way: ‘What you sow
does not come to life unless it dies.’
Raising up images,
from very small to not so.
Proceeding to inscribe them by seed,
by bulb, by tubercle,
like the steppe a grain of steppe preserves.
A steppe, then,
with the vegetal movement of the letters
of a script that only lives there buried.
Who knew how to write
with deep field letter,
and use its passage
so hidden and awake,
and do it exactly the way,
decanted under earth
of the words and their noises,
all seeds are alike in what they leave unsaid,
and do it in fine detail,
trusting that the seed itself of writing
already guarantees the seed of space
that must nourish its size.
As a seed permanently exposed
to light shows,
hypervisibility is sterile.
To what depth, though, is the earth fertile?
What separates the infernal condition
from the agrarian condition?
What depth of world
makes seeds diabolical?
All geography is a way of being of the world in the world.
Certainly, at times we don’t deserve the earth that bears us.
Wherever it be in the world, it is worth learning how to root there and to radiate there.
Among the proletariat of the humblest components of life
is the very specific situation in which it finds itself,
always so imminent, as if afraid that the mere fact of speaking of it
may not take it away, to the promotion or to the emphasis.
The result of living the place as a limitation is the dead space.
Inhabiting the field,
making it our life,
being its life.
The earth is made of being there.
We do not occupy space, we are space.
Nor do we live there:
we are its life.
Pupils and grain. Pigments
of pupils and of grain
among the blind seed and the visible earth,
between the pollen and the dust.
At the eye’s origin is there an acorn?
Does a sprouting holm oak shoot
see the world for the first time?
Does every look contain the acorn?
As a holm oak acorn slumbers in the earth,
so in a spirit of order and of thanks
the holm oak returns as an optical spectacle
of the acorn from whence it comes.
A belvedere buried at the bottom of a field,
for however long a time, would express well
the pertinence between the spatial point of view
and the agrarian blindness of belonging to what is looked at.
Going from a seed to a deeper seed.
Going from a seed to a larger seed.
But how to make a place for space?
How to get it out of us and give it some?