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· the unspoken
Article
Despre Boierism: manifest si razie
Round Table
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-09-05 | | After a month & a day of floating prostrate, silent, numb, words came bubbling back with a splash – one of those muted epiphanies that you have on the back seat of a gliding blue submarine or swimming after ferries that you never catch; yet, recovering your breath, on the pier, you think “Well, there’ll be other boats sailing up the river quite soon.” [Silence is, of course, like being underwater: the mouth full, silenced; the ears deafened by the pressure of no sounds at all.] Writing didn’t work: even the Prophetess escaped me. When I tried to jot her down she just wrapped herself up in green seas & disappeared behind a coral reef. [such a storm, such a breeze she is] Voices barely permeated. The Tinker-Bell silver laughter was now darting furiously through the currents like a thousand little fish on a rampage. The deep Echoing Tone was barely murmuring –erratic whisper– things trivial [silly, sinking words like “caviar” and “sharks”] But today, well, today, I sat in the gulf watching the inanimate shells & stretched out my calcareous bones, my moon-kissed arms. “so long, time” I said. “so long you’ve been a foul-weather friend now life begins to sink in dreams go to die on the beach i’m the mermaid i could sing i could sing Hello voices i’ve missed you Hello hearing you’ve changed i’ll learn to swim and never forsake you never drown you again.”
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