Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Without Mask

Without an image, without a situated comparsion I will invite the notions of words before image. To ask of silence for a needle to drop upon a record's history of grooves transcended through time. An echo appears at the end; for nights like this I can hear the ocean, far from my touch but close to my ear as my memory is clearer than my vision. Inside my chest lies not a heart but a nothingness to meaning, a void of words or conceptions, like a life seen by eyes of another holder, we only see what we want. It is in the truest light I say, without contraptions, without craft of words, in nakedness, of my soul. And what is said, for your memory to imprint upon mine, as share a moment, as I shed my skin for truth, and I am in your hands, as I seek warmth again with a cold world just beyond your reach. I ask of nothing and receive everything with surprise. And though all my rationale speaks to me with many questions I call silence, for what could be said of fresh discovery? It is upon your grip I find myself, as if I had known of this existence but have hidden it until it's location had been forgotten for many years. Upon you is all I value in myself, and for your hands to grip, for your eyes to pierce, for your soul to take part, as a fold, as a peel, as everything falls from all around, and we see the truth for what it has always been. Upon you, I have made a tunnel, and if you look deep inside you will see a light that is the brightest you have seen, this is how I address you, as my words shed double, triple meaning, to infinite, before us, and after, may I speak as though I was born to say, I hold nothing back with you. My everything.


Vanessa Maltese said...

harry scan.

BrendanGeorge said...

I've been getting hairs on tape, then taping stuff down, and see my hair there, and leave it. I think it will be the only evidence of my existence someday, stuck on adhesive.