Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Resonant Echoes of Yes
Blurred stars I cannot perceive without the aid of geometry and maybe a dog. Definitely a dog, though that too will pass in time. Snowless fields break beneath my feet, leaving me amazed as always at how readily randomness wears the veils of meaning we offer it. Somebody up north likes me, which is a kind of structure I'm still trying to map for her. In the distance, somebody's cow bellows and I have to stop and remind myself that it isn't 1973. Fix your tractor, keep a good pair of long underwear handy, and don't kiss anybody you can't bring home to your mother. Well, two out of three (one and a half out of three) isn't bad. Her husband comes to mind at odd hours, a genial space (hazy, actually) as misunderstood as she is, for which I can do nothing. The space in the air where earlier a candle burned - is it the same space or just a memory? Disappointment is tangible, but differently than starlight, of which lately I am so enamored. That, too. What does not come and go? How simple can the inquiry be? The resonant echoes of yes through which we discover the undiscoverable self that, in an effort to render itself discoverable, invented pronouns. It's a linguist's world in the end, the rest of us are just commas gazing at both ends of a sentence we didn't ask for.