Mark Goodwin
Substance & Light @ Grinah Stones
east of Bleaklow, cold spell, February 12th 2013
for Brian & Nikki
& we
fain
tly lit
and
we a
p pr oach
light through
light we approa
ch light condensed to
dark out
crop gritstone all
this Ridge
walk Moor is
all light tight
ened to all
solid
ities’
text
ures
〜
& a
light’s col
lected flakes
and a
froth of
light shin
-deep sounds
our snow
steps
〜
& light
as wide
ness
and a
grey
light pur
ified sm
ooth as ob
durate
slate hangs soft
ly as sky
-vibration
〜
& light
as a
crisp
mist
blur
and
so
blur
crisp
ly lays
up
rights
down
beyond
gone’s
horizontals
〜
& crink
led threads
of light
& scrunched
light fibres
and so light
fibres form
black heather’s pro
trusions through
snow’s
frequencies of
whites & infinite
variables
of grays
〜
& light
sat still
light alert
light as moun
tain hare
black-tipped
ears grazing
sky’s grey
freight &
now-light
as speed light as
beast trans
placing here’s vast
connecting to
distance sprinting
on light’s white
curves paws ki
cking up
solidity smudged
〜
& now
as an
i and
so i
touch
slow-rough
-heavy-light
light forged by
gravity pulled
to a whole
hole-less
ness of
stone one
of Grinah’s
grit-light ex
crescences a
boulder of
slowed en
ergy scul
pted
i feel it
s light
silenced solid
grit’s frict
ion grazes
a thin
surface/tension
of light on
my palm i
call
skin
〜
& light
as sound
light
wound
up in a
grouse-throat now
suddenly thrown
over moor gu
gur gurg gurgles
〜
& now
(s)now-light rises
up as
crag-ground
rocks muffled
in snowlight’s
white hum we
pick our way
among blocks
of time &
hidden slots of
space we climb
through Grinah’s
jumble of fro
zen moments sw
ift as light’s
pulse
〜
& from
as past lit &
light
stretched &
ground passed and
so from
Grinah’s top an
apron of moor
we traversed is
now
spread out is
diffracted below
us an
expanse of
light liquid
as sea
yet so
lid as
bone un
der skin
& dar
kened light
as punc
tuating spots
a straigh
t row of
black-block
grouse-butts proj
ects south-east
wards from
Grinah’s base
like ru
ined piles
of a lost
pier reach
ing from
land-rim in
to sea’s miles
-high-sky &
fathoms-deep
entwined light &
&
&
&
and just be &
yond a
final out
&
post moor’s
horizontals
& lit-to-solidities ac
celerate into
Grinah Grain’s
water-cut
ruck of
space dis
perse to in
fra grey’s
depths
〜
& light
as glass as
up
turned bowl of
pink-blue-grey
-purples placed
over us
& world
& light
as Turner’s
strokes fuse
ing photons to
quantum bonds
east of us
light lifts
up Ronksley Moor
’s peat-water-grit-&
-heather-mat
rix of solar
mem
ories light lifts
light lifts
this so
slow vi
bration now
speeds it
up sky
wards spreads
this soli
dity of
light
as frail gold
gaseous veils
sepia yet elect
rick through
lit air’s
grey e( )very-ness
Tawny Calls’ Textures, A Brackenclose,
A Wasdale, A September 2013
silent Sca
fell printed
flat black a
gainst tink
ling stars &
Brackenclose
hut snug
at Lingmell’s
toe in
its drystoned tri
angle of old
& named
oaks & long
wiry hill grasses as
Lingmell Beck rubs and r
ubs and ru
bs trans
parent cent
uries & centuries over roun
ded beck-stones every
second as
the un
lit hut’s
silence holds
its voices tight as
picture frames & book
shelves gently
vibrate with
some
other time’s climbers’
faces hackly
as rhyolite greased
with histories as just
now as
we lie here slipping
down sleep’s slope our
tent pitched among
Brackenclose’s oaks as
the hut keeps its keep
sakes empty of any
one yet full
of intentions spent
on crags & fells and its
windows dark
with hopes just
now a
single hoot
a
pause and
now an
other hoot but
doubled each
tawny call en
twines with and
yet un
winds
every texture Was
dale’s made
of as sleep’s
fall stretches
through
owls’ calls to
... to ...
shape
ground as
sound
▲
ke-witt hoo-hoo
some where some
where among
Brackenclose’s oaks
and some
where beyond a
mong branches & moss
hoo hoo-hooo hoo among
twigs & dew &
leaves & cob
webs & ri
sing threads of
mouse-scent a
throat
throat
here throat
there
throat
throats
warm under feathers form
air in
to colours for
ears vi
brate breath in
to dream’s f(i)re
quencies for
us fall
ing a
sleep sound
see-ers
▲
at a
distance
The Screes’
cones of rub
ble-stones
are smooth that
close
ness of jag
ged & hard to
tread is at
this
distance soft
as song from some
other
world made
by some other
being’s
lungs throat
tongue beak
The Screes
plunge
through Wast
Water’s sur
face-version
of them
(selves?) down in
to dark’s liq
uid lid
ded by bright
smooth mirror as
listening
glistens
▲
as
a taw
ny’s call
pulls as
some I falls
to sleep as
some
tent’s fabric gently
rattles as
some
holds on
Great Gable’s Needle Ridge
polished
by rivers of
hands & feet
gleam
weather’s grease as
my finger
skin slips but
just grips as
my mountain
boots’ soles lose
one world’s
friction to
gain cloud
& air’s
ground
less depth but
I still cling as
some
owls’
sounds
condense on
my fall
ing a
sleep form
▲
every sound Was
dale’s made
of
is was as
much
as now
▲
Lingmell’s summit is
made
of solid lit
mist & see
through stone ringing
gleam as
sunshine strikes
through cloud as
our feet press and
ground quietly re
sounds steps as
if sleep was
wide bright as
just
beyond Ling
mell Crag’s long
drop
Piers Gill’s black
gash like an im
print from some
letter dropped and
lost from
some god’s
alphabet a
llows
water’s pass
age as
Scaffel Crag’s ob
duracy dissolves
among water’s
dancing
molecules water’s
form as
steam as
Scaffel Crag’s names &
buttresses & slabs &
pinnacles & flakes &
ascensionists’ lines &
arêtes & cracks &
constructs loom
through faint sounds
of histories’
mist its
moist hiss as
people’s sleep forms
patterns on a
mountain hut’s
walls as a
warenesses re
solve soul-noise
as
owls w
ake
sound sound
wakes owls
Copyright © Mark Goodwin 2015
Mark Goodwin is a walker, balancer, stroller & climber. Mark is also a poet-sound-artist, and curates Air to Hear, a SoundCloud group which collects sound-enhanced poetry from around our world. His latest full-length collection - Steps -was recently published by Longbarrow Press; Leafe Press's Open House Editions will soon publish his gleaning of some of Peter Riley's Alstonefield, called Tones Fled All; his next collection with Shearsman - House At Out - is due out Autumn 2015. Mark lives on a boat in Leicestershire.
