Self under self

When asked to write an autobiographical piece Norman MacCaig’s verse comes into (one) of my minds:

“Self under self, a pile of selves I stand
Threaded on time…”
From Summer Farm, 1955

Wither a peat stack without each slab?  Or a vast bog without each miniature sphagnum moss, 90% water…so human.

Self portrait in my own peaty footprint
Self-portrait in my own peaty footprint.


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