Con-Verse Blue

The space where you say a sound that becomes a word and then I wait to say a sound that becomes a word. Everything happens in those spaces.  We know there is a sonic vibration there. But also there are the other vibrations: ideational, affective, logical, all sorts of quantum spin based on probabilities of sympathy and intent. We’re no different than any other particles at heart, only larger. The space between sound and word. And that space between word and sound. I’m speaking of a visual equation as if it could be read only one direction. But the exchange could be reversed:: memory:: retrospect. Sometimes I think this happens in dreams or music played backwards. We can “un-cause” sounds and the events sounds make (words) by turning the flow backwards. Running a film’s scroll this way. The ghostly nature of location soon becomes apparent. Isn’t this the Buddhist elevator that goes sideways? The uncertainty principle is everywhere and all of language. We pretend it is only the space between words, but everything seems to happen in those other two intervals. Two words never actually touch each other in any language on earth. That is just a dream of the page. That is just the pipe dream of books. But even there we allow a small space between them. We allow them the breathing (the begging bowl of matter) room we give all the other possibilities mind did not choose in a given exchange. At least the readings it did not choose this time through. The tunnel is infinitely open, isn’t it? Perhaps some sentences should dissolve as soon as they are spoken, the words drifting further apart like clouds in a summer sky. Some sentences undo themselves like sky even as they are spoken. Or read. There is no promise that these words will not separate as soon as you turn your eyes away.


Let the poem be organic images. Let the poem
hide its words from itself. A thunderstorm
turns around our house, goes by the window
twice. Then again. It seems to be in love
with the cat’s fear. Things fill up with our
crazy intentions. Eventually, you notice
language is doing the same thing. These
crazy drive-bys it does. And we never
did a thing to it, except maybe encroach
by accident on its alien turf. You can’t
even walk down its street without
taking someone’s side, unawares.