Saturday, February 14, 2009
If I could I would walk with purpose to
the window of your language, lift
my hand through the slats of light, draw
down gently the blinds. I
would push aside all your words designed for
convincing, explaining, telling, push
them to the corners, sweep away the dust to
reveal a nice spot for working.
I would drape your reasonings with my sh-h-h-h-h
quieting the tap tap tapping of keys endlessly putting
into print every word of substance.
In this warm dark silence let me
lead you gently into a space of no-words where
there are only skin and electric
neurons firing in the mouth, where
there are no treatises or briefs, no
summaries or blogs, only senses mingling
into their own senses. You can
touch the taste of the orange’s
sweet inner flesh, swallow
the crackling firelight.
Here it is safe to
lose the limits of language and know
how it feels when words crumble
upon themselves, leaving you only with
the scattered sparkles of a body unbound.
Photo found here: