Issue Three

Spring 2012


Desire Lines

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Drought or drench draw them more clearly, teach
the secret geometry of hidden
or half-arsed purpose. For each

ribbon of rained-on intent,
tramped-down meander of yearning
that hardens into lane or jitty,

even a city street, another ten
remain as freehand scrawls and scribbles,
at best, the chords and tangents

of long-forgotten arcs. A season’s growth
softens edges, a work-crew and a one-off budget
tame the snake in the grass, or divide head

from tail, but a week of winter, a few days
of scorching sun, can reunite both
or sharpen the top-down perspective,

until each waste-ground’s a history
of every passing idea and impulse, half-buried, half-
realised, but still being dreamed.


Matt Merritt

silver fractal