My kitchen window you've never stood in because I've never let you.
This is what I keep saying to myself.
Curatorial self-destruction at its finest. The whole world is speeding up because I'm at a halt.
Someone in a more pragmatic state can say this better. I can't say what I want to say at all.
I want to say, You Are Welcome, Anywhere Anytime Now.
But you need me to say,,,,,
I've been wondering what successive commas might mean in a sentence. I think they mean a purposeful trailing off. Not the [....] on the end of a sentence that suggests a lazy, rhetorical dissipation, that swallows what could be there because it's not needed.
When I write "You need me to,,,,,"
I mean a letting go. Not a swallowing but a denial of swallowing, a denial that there is anything to swallow.
,,,,, means a self-reflexive void. Not a reversal but a denial of what was.
My words are bundled in my throat like the heel of a foot.
My own foot, no doubt.
That the world exists like this, pushed so closely together, me looking up to it to tell me who I am.
And me finding ,,,,,
1 comment:
The commas suggest to me a series of silences, rather than, as you say, the tapering off or omission represented by an ellipsis. A bundling, indeed. And, and, and.
How is it that you are writing while I am,,,,?
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