My fingers are famished. They are seeking the blind opus of honeysuckle twinings and deep lava grottoes. Oceanic chambers. Salted tulips and pale plains inked with map markings and signposts.
What is the difference between symbol and sign? Symbols are mutable and translatable–the subject names the significance. Signs are like marketing–a pointing-to, a selling. Signs are directive. I don’t want to be directive. I don’t want to assign meaning.
I want to suss out your secret messages, your cryptology. I want to sniff out the footwork beneath your every-so-often silver hairs that spring watery and moonlit from your scalp. I want to be encased in your textured language–a many-colored cloak, a flash of lightning-bright teeth your smile in the sun.