Margaret Atwood - Progressive Insanities of a Pioneer lyrics
[Margaret Atwood - Progressive Insanities of a Pioneer lyrics]
He stood, a point on a sheet of green paper
Proclaiming himself the centre
With no walls, no borders
Anywhere the sky no height
Above him, totally un enclosed
And shouted:
Let me out! He dug the soil in rows
Imposed himself with shovels he asserted
In to the furrows, I am not random
The ground replied with aphorisms:
A tree-sprout, a nameless weed, words
He couldn't understand
The house pitched the plot staked
In the middle of nowhere
At night the mind inside, in the middle
Of nowhere
The idea of an animal
Patters across the roof
In the darkness the fields
Defend themselves with fences in vain:
Everything is getting in
By daylight he resisted he said, disgusted
With the swamp's clamourings and the
Outbursts of rocks
This is not order but the absence
Of order
He was wrong, the unanswering
Forest implied:
It was an ordered absence
For many years he fished for a great vision
Dangling the hooks of sown
Roots under the surface of the shallow earth
It was like enticing whales with a bent
Pin besides he thought in that country
Only the worms were biting
If he had known unstructured
Space is a deluge and stocked his log house
-boat with all the animals
Even the wolves
He might have floated
But obstinate he stated, The land is solid
And stamped
Watching his foot sink down through stone
Up to the knee
Things refused to name themselves refused
To let him name them
The wolves hunted outside
On his beaches, his clearings
By the surf of undergrowth breaking
At his feet, he foresaw disintegration
And in the end through eyes
Made ragged by his effort, the tension
Between subject and object
The green vision, the unnamed
Whale invaded
Proclaiming himself the centre
With no walls, no borders
Anywhere the sky no height
Above him, totally un enclosed
And shouted:
Let me out! He dug the soil in rows
Imposed himself with shovels he asserted
In to the furrows, I am not random
The ground replied with aphorisms:
A tree-sprout, a nameless weed, words
He couldn't understand
The house pitched the plot staked
In the middle of nowhere
At night the mind inside, in the middle
Of nowhere
The idea of an animal
Patters across the roof
In the darkness the fields
Defend themselves with fences in vain:
Everything is getting in
By daylight he resisted he said, disgusted
With the swamp's clamourings and the
Outbursts of rocks
This is not order but the absence
Of order
He was wrong, the unanswering
Forest implied:
It was an ordered absence
For many years he fished for a great vision
Dangling the hooks of sown
Roots under the surface of the shallow earth
It was like enticing whales with a bent
Pin besides he thought in that country
Only the worms were biting
If he had known unstructured
Space is a deluge and stocked his log house
-boat with all the animals
Even the wolves
He might have floated
But obstinate he stated, The land is solid
And stamped
Watching his foot sink down through stone
Up to the knee
Things refused to name themselves refused
To let him name them
The wolves hunted outside
On his beaches, his clearings
By the surf of undergrowth breaking
At his feet, he foresaw disintegration
And in the end through eyes
Made ragged by his effort, the tension
Between subject and object
The green vision, the unnamed
Whale invaded