Thursday, 3 September 2009
Fishing for complement
I seek the language time-convicts speak. Their life sentences judged by poetic justice . I seek the language space-pirates speak. Using lies to reveal treasured truths and truths to locate floating realities.
I seek a language that sounds crisp as trust and smells metaphors.
Where “art” means love making and “war” means round tables.
Where syntax is not taken for granted and grammar has room for the stranger.
I seek a language we will play hand by hand, bit by beat, word by world.
I seek a language that will be resonating our presence even when
We will be apart.
Is there such a place?