Friday, December 18, 2009

I feel a need to leave a thing behind. Behind myself and separate.

Together we come into this separateness. We are not each other either. We are singular individuals.

Champions of space and time.

The greatest kings of loneliness.

There are birds at these heights and we will call them down. Winging towards greatness. Waving flags of greatness. They will turn at our call.

We worship change and solidity. What is more solid than change? Worship?

We've prayed our hands raw. We've prayed our hands away. What are we to do now that we have no hands? We can make neither rifles or rollercoasters now.

The sea beckons us. The sky beckons us. We beckon the sea. We beckon the sky.

We believe in time. We believe in our bodies. We have to. Our bodies make the world. Make the time. I make you. You make me. The world is made at the surface of my eyes and my world trails behind me in a lengthening train.

I see that you are destined to rise. Impenetrable.

I make in order to extend myself beyond my body in a physical way. Distinct from verbal extension or the extension gained through the release of ideologies or inventions.

I am isolated. I have isolated myself. My isolation builds and redoubles every day. I have fallen so far behind you that I may never catch up to you. You practice more in an afternoon than I do in thirty days time.

We don't understand each other. I have made all of this. Where is all you've made? Remember all you've made. You've made me. You've made the world and your world trails behind you in a lengthening train.

Remember your youth. It is behind you. You don't need to climb over it. You don't need to climb over anything. The world is made at the surface of your eyes and everything is behind you. There are no obstacles in front of you. There is nothing in front of you. The world does not exist in front of you. Not yet.

No one else could have done what you've done and no one can do what you will do. I see that you are destined to rise.

The windows are golden in the sunset. The animals are golden. The sea is golden. We are golden in the sunset. We make the sunset.

I make to prove there are thoughts in my head. I can not do it through action or speech.

I will read every word you write. I will consider you. You will consider me. I will consider every extension of you. I will watch as you extend and I will extend in turn.

A turn is coming. A peak is looming. It is dark and our beams are weak. It is cold and our jackets are thin.

I'm so sorry. We are each sorry in turn. You are destined to be sorry.

Join me in the glare of headlights. We will turn the surfaces of our eyes in the same direction. We will drive the cars. We will make two parallel worlds. Our worlds will be very different but in the glare now they will approach each other. They will run side by side. For a moment we will be close. For a moment we will understand. We will face the oncoming glare as two together.

Together we come into this separateness. We are in uncertain territory. Our beams are weak.

Take a walk. Sea and air are your own.

See what you will. Be who you will.

We are remade every moment. I am a new person every day and every moment. It is only a memory of patterns that keeps us together. Forget the patterns and be remade.

Come with me to places we have never been. We will pair our weak beams. We will pierce the dark or we will walk in the dark.

We will dance in the dark to tubas and the calls of falcons. We will dance to singing saws. We are a new generation of dancers.

Say what you will about us. You were not there in the glare of headlights.

Our progress appears meager. Our bodies are small. We are extending inward. We seek a vaster space. A deeper infinity.

Lay waste to the gridlines. Our avenues should not be intuitive. We are quickly approaching a future in which becoming lost is an impossibility. We seek an unfamiliar space.

Angel of the future, spread your electronic wings. I will spread my electronic wings. Prepare for love in digital space.

Keep your hand to the ashen wall. The tunnel is long.

This may be a free for all. This may be an electronic mess. A mess to end messes. A body may need to die to lend its truth to something else more important and lacking truth.

Knowing is the problem here. To know another's world. To know another's sight. Knowing is the problem here. There are no access points. I don't know you. I know the shelves of the continents. I know the depths of the solar system. I don't know you. I don't know the number of grains in a quarter-cup of sand.

Come alongside me trailing your world in a lengthening train. Come alongside me and point the surfaces of your eyes in the same direction. Receive the same light. Make real the same time. Come alongside me and see that there is nothing in front of you. There are no obstacles in front of you. Help me to see that there are no obstacles. Help me to see that I am not pulling my lengthening train. Help me to see that my lengthening train is weightless. My lengthening train is pushing me. My lengthening train is a testament to all I've made. To all I am capable of.

We are running parallel now. Our worlds are separate but they are as close as they can ever become. Our waves are in phase. Our tracks run true. There are no tracks.

1 comment:

Roman K. Pougatchev said...

Fish fed at 6:10 PM, 12/19/09.