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Jul. 30th, 2013 12:38 amThe way bodies of a certain kind produce ripples in ideas they should strictly speaking never touch, strictly speaking couldn't possibly. The way as these bodies move toward, away from, near us, through our thoughts, they become wrapped in those ripples they themselves created, become centerpieces in bouquets of what they'd made reminiscent of them. Or later, met again in isolation, are themselves now reminiscent of those other things. Wake stirrings inside facts without dimension. Free motions pulling freight that can't be so.
How a body can be a way to a body and a way back to a body and all the ways that go inside a body and all the ways that body will go and somebody with it out in a world itself the same body, somehow, in some ways, though not, though surely not.
At times you want to laugh it off, start laughing it off, shake it off with laughter, feel sharp circles and curves in the shake, stop sober for nearly just shaking your whole self away.
You look at your hand at such times and it's never more transparent and never heavier.
Never shaped quite so much like a thing that a hand might hold onto.
How a body can be a way to a body and a way back to a body and all the ways that go inside a body and all the ways that body will go and somebody with it out in a world itself the same body, somehow, in some ways, though not, though surely not.
At times you want to laugh it off, start laughing it off, shake it off with laughter, feel sharp circles and curves in the shake, stop sober for nearly just shaking your whole self away.
You look at your hand at such times and it's never more transparent and never heavier.
Never shaped quite so much like a thing that a hand might hold onto.
