Conjoined Semiosis – A Valentine for my wife
Amassing contexts and histories barely constitute beginnings. Relations between entities are potentially infinite and full of traces. Somehow, occasionally, they equal: an identity – identities – by what’s between. Continuous dynamic variables.
By chance each of our indefinite immensities meshed boundaries. Bodies permeable as minds, and vice-versa. Reciprocity – reality and dream. Kisses channeling deep into veins, correspondence shipped and received – held gently in the hands while splicing ripples through craniums. Made of margins we, venturing portals and hallways one of another. Each an entourage, an army, and its festival.
Bound by genuine threads. Wrapping rocks and trading rings, patchworking children toward tapestry. Our eyes – microscoping telescopes, telescoping memories. We are wheres and whens, whos and whats – and how! No wonder why receives no answers, only possible descriptions.
We search for language with our bodies. Attempting to define the terms and parse the verbs together: love, trust, respect and honesty. We have said “you are my person,” communication requiring the whole shebang – dismembered pasts and potential futures – all we do not know mustered toward a truth, collaborating is.
If we were to withhold what we cannot show, “whereof which we cannot speak” (as Ludwig tells) avoiding formal pseudo-propositions, we would only telegraph senses, dropping our abstracting frames and their symbol’d referents.
But we are artists – metaphors ourselves – infusing nonsense into world, creating kinds of sense, some of it illuminative. Morphing forms and casting doubts to converge in content.
I love you. I am so glad
WE ARE HERE