Toward synchronicity

An arch of light unravels the morning of the day, beginning aquamarine, ending golden. Somehow the dust I threaten to dissolve into is compressed by Earth’s gravity and held together by the moist vitality of inexhaustible eros, trusting in the knowledge of the body, however cruel, knowing the vital force of refuge that the morning brings, softly.

These are my fictions. A poetic crossover into philosophical theory requires a leap, a suspension of framing, something to do with courage to surrender to the chance, to recognize the beauty of each moment, of gestures, of sounds, of words floated to the surface. As a practice, a lived emergence of subjectivity into a continuum that is perhaps informed by theoretical notions, but flows out of (is situated in) the body’s gestures, a carnal motility, a carnal imperative. In writing I take the lead from the process already underway, inside, underneath, where I am knotted up in the intensity of this gestation, of words not ready to emerge yet, but forming slowly, cell by cell, vertebrae by vertebrae, bone by bone, hair and eyelashes, little bodies, swelling under the skin.

A soft inflection of a word that turns into a desiring body makes me divulge the text in seeking, a cunning deluding deluge, a brush with eternity, a blind anticipation.. No matter what we do, what event, what moment, there are always many layers, many parts participating in the orchestration of identity that evolves across thresholds, in time passing. It is never just one thing, there are multiple layers of affects, dispositions and postures, but there is a possibility of that synchronous moment when all the parts of body/time/space synchronize in temporal approach and flow for a moment, in pure duration, a moment of surrender, when the boundaries dissolve, resolve. 

The moment when, with Rilke’s Elegies in hand, I open myself up to be tasted by the world’s tongue.

A sultred space.