Perhaps we join in a wooded area, wander about, espying for foxes and deer, or bunnies.

Maybe we just use our eyes.

Sometimes we use the term-containers – words of our languages – bring varieties of ourselves, our experiences, our learning, our responses to syllables and sounds, and craft new spaces whereby the potentials echo.

I raise my hand, you respond in kind.  A nod, a wave, a shake.

Perhaps the fuzzy boundaries of ourselves engage – we hug, we kiss, we make sounds one to another…

Both leaping over the log.  Both scrambling the scaffold.

Gazes infiltrating one another on the river, on the Van Gogh, on the sculpted heap.

“You heard that too?”

Footfalls.

Whispers.

Suppose we take up space.  Suppose we are compositions of compositions that make a kind of interactive boundary – both for ourselves and that which surrounds us.  The same, but different.  Suppose all that spins around me gives me a sort of “area.”  Suppose I lend the air, the water, the sound and ground a similar sort of “area” by my own buzzing, my own movements.  Call me color.  I am “blue.”  But when I engage you in my blustering – you, “yellow” – we don’t end up making stripes…

WE, are “green.”

I breathe…my compositions of compositions exchange and interchange – some re-inhaled, some new and distinct, some left to re-compose.  I enter you.  I lend a boundary.  I find I do not dissolve.  And yet, exchange.

Our voices, carried by term-containers, expand, swell, contract, until there is a blend of meanings, intentions.

Maybe we only inflect.

Our fuzzy, buzzing boundaries.

Engage, exchange, co-constitute.

You move.  You lend me form.  I respond.  I interact in kind.

Fuzz, buzz, calibrate.

You said.  I replied.  I summarized.  You disagreed.  Partially.  Edit, recompose.

If “I” am a composition.  I am composed of compositions – recognizable.  Body.  Organs.  Veins.  Plasma.  Neurons.  Molecules.  Clusters.  DNA.  Synapses.  Atoms….

You, composition of compositions…a composition within compositions : surround, situation, “space” (is there such thing?).  Space, time – any emptied space to occupy?  No.  Displacement, exchange.  Calibrate.

Table.  A/C.  Drink glass.  Water.  Music.  Each element, action, “happening” altering, vibrating, co-creating the rest…

Calibrating BEING.

OCCURRING.

THIS.

Co-composing…compositions made of compositions made of…within compositions of compositions…making…

We calibrate.

I enter you.  We correlate.  Calibrate.  Collaborate.  Co-create.

I recede.

You, though different, remain.

How intimate it can be…and yet.

We lend and are lent.  Gift and are gifted.

Our fuzzy, buzzing borders.

Ever-exchanging.  Ever-engaging.

We climb.  We calibrate.

We dance, we speak, we respond, we laugh, we play, we swim…

We dream, we sleep, we breathe…

WE CALIBRATE…

…and become.

This is mysterious to me.  Mysterious and wonderful.  How I tend to think I “know” I am made of the same miniscule moving structures as you, as air, as mountain, as stream… And yet I retain a form… maintain an autopoietic and dynamic interchange and existence (for a time) as a cognizable (humanly) and dynamic “organism” or form of life.  Like a language, a rock, a helix, an artwork, an idea.  That I “know” these elemental spaces composed of tinier spaces making up larger spaces are all active, are full, are constantly coming and going, interacting and recombining, becoming and altering, editing and con-forming… and yet we identify, recognize, perceive…and do it again – come together, and calibrate…

Action.  Language.  Presence.  Exchange.

Remain.  Begin.  Engender.  Preserve.

BECOME.

Each of it: action, communication, gesture, touch, sense, perception, behavior, belief,

OPPORTUNITY and ENACTMENT of CALIBRATION…

COMMUNICATION

hello.