Does language hover between my nerve endings and the world, or is language my skin itself? Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
It is fleeting, ephemeral, fragile --- beauty,
Silence of the deep sleep, death,
of non-being,
eternity,
Alas~~~
A video of some of my late brother Ray's paintings and poems I wrote for them. Direct link: https://youtu.be/V8iZyORoU9E ___
Alas~~~
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