here's to an art that for the moment we will pretend it neither to be struggling on the bottom of the ocean nor on the surface, but a wave that's coming, ever rolling in to play its part.
sound encounter for the day:
the metal of a quoin as it grinds open in its extension to push against and then compress a tower or crossbow of wood against and into lines of lead type until it all begins to creak or squeak.
sound bearing?
a feeling. a feeling of lead softening wood or wood softening lead. the idea is virtual, yes. but, you can now feel a tenderization of language, can you not? now words can take on the properties of wood and lead and metal if they need to.
because they bear the scent of texture.
