Tattoos Of Delirium
Neither a circle nor an endless returning, but a tiny spark filled with black space and light years. I regard her that way, through a keyhole that approaches a chamber of distraction.
I come into view when she fades, and then the obvious reversal. She imagines a device, no, a gesture, an invisible act that combines the both of neither. Wet and slippery as a dream, playing out each ambiguous entrance in view of strangers.
Faces coming so close, to pass through each other, scarred but undamaged. The bodies are numerous, seamarks, tearing consciousness on the shore...
“I love you”, she thinks, “I will mark you...” while the moment in between signals a deeper entrance into Mayan symbols, animal hunger, evenings that scroll downwards to a place to sign your name, your possible X...
J Karl Bogartte (2012)