hey
Sometimes in the spaces between words
something travels that isn’t language
Your uncle lived in his imagination
while his body betrayed him with sadness
the creators with their ugly bodies
their difficult minds
finding freedom in what they could see
that no one else could
We’re all chained to something
history, bodies, patterns, expectations
But sometimes the chains loosen just enough
for something real to pass between us
These moments
rare as they are
might be the only ones that matter
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da Vinci never spoke to canvas
canvas never apologized for blankness
transaction of language
emptied magazines
refilled meanings
transaction incomplete
consciousness tolerates deformity
grotesque objects normal
normal objects grotesque
veneration of uncertainty
roots: magazzino / makhazin / storehouse
what am I storing for you?
critique of critique
waste of time to explain waste of time
giants and dwarves
the blackest swan: never writing the good thing
or writing it once
and becoming unbearable
