photo by ParkeHarrison


“People really understand very little of one another”

-Anne Carson-

            You might say we studied one another through a thick fog.  Or learned one another in the dark, guessing, reaching, feeling our way.

For many years.

We were determined.

Recording nuances, memorizing beats, mimicking rises and falls.  Taking fingerprints with our bodies, collecting snapshots for official documents.  We created and invented artifacts together in order not to know – who was who and which was which.  We merged as often as we could, and more than often asked.

We still remember general shapes and movements – tones, colors, outlines.  Each a sort of negative of the other – surfaces accepting imprints, continuous translations.

You could say we were scholars and specialists.  At times we counted hairs, many times while splitting them.  From observation it is hard to tell bodies tangled in fighting from those wrestling in love.  Unfettered laughter from convulsive wails.  We learned to do so by watching them changing one to another and back again.  Momentary gradients.  We were able to dance on thin lines.

In earnest we catalogued vocabularies by rote, genetics, neuroses, causes and effects, our marriage a lab of research and experiment.  Encycopedic and replete.

Through interference of weather and evolution’s inexplicable leaps we adapted apparati for morphing data, constructing theses.  Compared and bickered notes and conclusions, matters and intention.  Interpretations varied.

More astrology than –onomy, more alchemy than chemistry, we carried forth our quest.  Meteorology, geology, archaeology we sought of one another, growing compendiums of analyses and flow, catalysts and katharses.

Our distance became cosmically microscopic, mythological and rite.  You might say we were studying one another in a great fog.  We kept on receiving each other in the dark.