Like an oriental calligrapher, I inscribe glyphs on the even white space. I mould shadows into shapes, Fluid forms into concrete reality; or rather it becomes something that suggests meaning-but has none. No semantic meaning. There may be no words in these poems, but there is an emotional meaning. Meaning? What is that? Meaning is fleeting. Meaning is a phase, a phrase, a step. Meaning is insubstantial. It exists-then it exits, never staying for long.
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2 comments:
Beautifully written explanation! My favorite part: "It exists--then it exits."
thanks:)
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