I've checked to see if I have a pulse, and the result is unclear. I think it's like trying to tickle oneself.
THE SUMMONS
The surfaces of things call
to one another like pheromones.
Often, we thick ungainly forms
intercept -- then the stub, stumble.
We're interrupting conversation.
Themes call as well.
A friend dreamed I would be
killed by a snowmobile.
Eventually, blizzards and
zero visibility became
three quarters my life.
What shuttled me here?
Does past summon future?
Everything speaks. Otherwise
we'd be able to hear each other.
The world is noisy, bursting
with unseen connections
queerly casting their quietudes.
If only more would take the time to stop. And listen. Beautifully, powerfully penned, Julianza.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on November 28, 2009
Everything has a language. Like virtual reality driven by bits. Life, in fact, is virtual reality. There is synchronicity everywhere. Is past prologue? Yes and no. Life is a flux, we never step in the same river twice. And everything speaks. Are we willing to listen? The ending is the best part Julie. The world is noisy. But when we actually listen...we notice that the universe talks to us in subtle ways. Strange paradox. Queerly casting their quietudes. Very perceptive. Great stuff.
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(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.