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low magic light
verso voce
]
approaching
with
living voice
with
(silent) reading
slowing slanting
towards an I
that had
once written
of voice [in multiple voices]
as
the living voice’s
– distance decreases
– difference absorbs
the living voice
waits as words brake
the living voice will re-member the once written
[
preparing
reading words
once written
to inter [pret]
rupt their
sleeping forms
and re
-vive
-member
their performing
sending under
word-bled
withered
troubled
awaiting renewal
the (text) bodies
lie before despatch
They promise nothing
as snow-filled ditches
between
winter-browned fields
pass
words drift [word drifts]
away [word rifts]
from this [words rift]
awkward (st)art
that way and this …
nav error: Cam Fell (sketch)
… unending …
As I cursed the conditions on Cam Fell only two weeks ago I now curse conclusion and introduction (I swear loudly at and in their presence). The finish is (cartographically at least) proximate but it holds little current reality. Conditions are once again disorienting and deceptive. I am haunted by the shades to my sides that smother for my attention. The claustrophobia of the elements is uncanny. Awkwardly, and urgently, a pressure impels me forward as the wind did on Cam Fell; but this urging only forces me into wrong turns and faux pas. Briefly righted. Sgraffito word-steps suggest a way onwards; they lull with the knowledge that others have been this way recently and might be cautiously accepted as some form of guide. The steps are erased and Gates offer nothing but reflected light and a swirling influx of darkness. Slowly. The certainty of the one surface is found to be duplicitous, easing me into a world of reflected topography. I re-turn a place I do not know and try again.
The scenarios are deceptively analogous.
Analogy is deceptively scenic.
