I close one eye as a hint or signal. Almost-gesture of complicity, alliance. Miniscule nod of knowingness. Nearly clandestine. We are accomplice.
Subtlety. In the colors of sunsets are moments. Light in trees, precipitation, breeze and wind. Occasions, occurrences. A brush, a jolt, a catch, or slip. Just there, just then, just whom.
Sum of an enormous fund of letters, sounds, marks, and inferences composing a confused and compossible khora of language actuated haphazardly in discourse, and conversation, a dated letter, an exclamation or response… one might say the signsea winks or glimmers. A squinch or sparkle of potential affinities and conflicts, affiliations and consorts. Then gone. A breath. A…
Glance. A glimpse shuttered quickly, asymmetrically. What does it mean? Something. Something of nothing. Like accident, collision, like misreckoning, mistake. Like harmony, accord, or intercourse.
“in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, as a trumpet sound… the dead shall be raised, and we shall be changed”…(I Cor 15:52, changed).
Happenings, emergence, inceptions, conceptions, decisions, decease…moments, blinks, glints, such tiny gestures…
…and all shall be changed.
Picture, if you can, if you will, a spill of sonority, funneled through lung, through throat, whirling the mouth cavity, battened by teeth, and leaving the lips as a word… now whispering air as smoky exhalation… mingling and woven in the voice of another… such breaths, these terms, these inscriptions… how they collide and collude, coalesce and caress, commingle and pass on…
Moments, instants, mishaps or miracles…and all shall be changed…or so it is written, supposed, and declared…
In the Wink of an I, there is difference.
for Jean Lee
Polysemic Stupor 