Wo­den

The London Magazine - - NEWS - John Green­ing

Masked and mounted on an F-15 from Lak­en­heath, he is cut­ting edge

cir­cling again and now again Grime’s Graves where the spear be­gan

its flight to­wards flint­lock, to­wards no-man’s-land and moon­scape.

How to clear the for­est and all its fears? Dig pits with seven

antler picks to the flick­er­ing of a chalk lamp in the shad­ows

with a phal­lus and a white god­dess heav­ing to give birth to black­ness.

Flint will carve an open­ing along the Ick­nield Way and split the car­cass

of Europe into skin and guts and meat and bones. What re­mains will be what he owns

and is be­neath him as he spins thun­der from the co­coon of his own si­lence.

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