Every reading is a resurrection,
A somewhat imperfect reproduction,
A recreation in new memory
Of the absent and the dead. It raises
A correspondence pattern for patterns
Long since dissolved. It’s forensic, reading.
It’s taphonomic. It’s also magic.
Meaning is the tardigrade of the soul,
The soul that shuts down in meaning and waits.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.