"Holes where people should be" -- a description of
prostitutes? This page -- the one you are reading
right now (Reader!...Oh Reader...? Are you there?) --
when blank, was one kind of hole; filled, is another,
because I, who now speak to you, am not here.
That serves you right for not being here
(where I am) to catch me as I fall -- that is,
catch my words. Bodies, words -- both are
particles of communication we or others
send out into the world. (I can send my body
to you, having loaded it with meaning -- significant
smiles, noble expressions, energetic attitudes,
acceptable-or-not clothing; or someone else
can send it to war or Congress or school or
on a blind date or to a booby hatch. I can be
sender or message. I can even receive myself --
Communication is quite a trick: We want our
communications to reach out, go through walls,
cross oceans and time zones, cover distance,
be unstoppable. And yet we want them to be
stopped -- to reach a point where they are received
and go "PLOP" in the catcher's mitt,
be understood and acknowledged, as if fitting
precisely into a slot (CLICK) in another mind.
(Is it inspiring or just sad to conceive of signals
passing us from stars long dead, roving endlessly
through the galaxies?)
We want our words immortal (we poets do),
and yet we want them to end -- and we want to know
they've ended (been received) so that we can
move on to other games. Please catch me!
In Reader We Trust.
It isn't "I create and then I communicate my creation."
It's "I create so well and with such gusto that others
want to join in and help me paint this fence."
I create, and we co-create. Otherwise I fall back and fall,
endlessly fall, no floor to catch me, not even earth;
though it receives the body (MUNCH!), I still fall,
yes, folks, you can SEE my endless, miraculous
falling right here on this page where I put it!
Note: The fence painting refers to Tom Sawyers trick: Getting
others to help him paint the fence by pretending he's having fun