The Sound of Light Surface

The Sound of Light Surface

— Day 1 (Process Note)

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I reached into the darkness
as if throwing a stone to measure the depth of water.
A single grain of surface
met the wall.

I blew softly on my damp fingers
and struck the wall like flint.
A rough white plume
crackled into ignition
at a point inside the cochlea.

Light began to circulate
through my blood vessels.

My fingertips and the wall
gently rubbed each other’s skin,
spinning a long thread of light.

When my right hand combed the darkness
and lifted light out of it,
the fingers of my left hand searched
for the warmed scent of light
and softly scattered it.

Two comets dance a spiral waltz,
brushing the cosmos with their skirts,
moving farther and closer,
while the sun watches.

The foam of light overflows
and is hotly sucked into
the black hole of the ear canal.
At that tension,
a sandstorm rises
and waves crash.

Riding on light,
unwinding and winding it,
the empty body dances
the orbit of a spinning wheel.

There is only one clear will:
it will not be severed.

​

April 25, 2024

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The Sound of Light Surface

— Day 9 (Process Note)

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Swollen with pain in its attempt to reach a new body, I rotate, building a white womb with long breaths.
Pressing my cheek against its walls as if exerting invisible force, I push forward, until the surface finally dissolves and I touch the universe beyond the white boundary.
My inner body, now densely compressed, grasps an enlarged opening and turns itself inside out into another body.

​

May 16, 2024

Artist’s Note for The Sound of Light Surface