Flicker

What is absent? What is missing? A deficit? A link broken? Can we jump over the absence? Scale the deficit? Where are the footholds- between one nothingness and the next? Our markings are the visitations we once made. The places we left behind. The time-spans we no longer fill. This is our trajectory, and our expectation into what has yet to arise; our gesturing through is this premonition between an imaginary past and an imaginary future. We are the bridge here in the present in which we eat up what we trail behind us and what we lean into. We are the missing link of our own gesturing. The hoped for into which we keep pouring ourselves and the mourned for and missed object always askew from where we actually are. In the actual gesturing there is a virtual object which is nothing but this absentee past, this not yet arrived at future. 

It is here in this catching of breath; in the stutter, the momentary delay, the deja vu or regurgitation; it is in these habitual slippages through which we pass our time and consolidate in this evocation of a pause, enough intensity- enough contraction- that like a spring-loaded lever we flip back out into another bearing. In other words we unfold and we do so only because of this folding in. In invisibility, unatainability, in the lost cause, the missing beat, the catched phrase, here is where we gulp back down our pre-aranged words so that they regurgitate into an unknown form; an unknowable consolidation. This is the factory in which our bodies mix. Sensations stew, cook in their own juicies, multiply and converge, warm into one another and fracture apart into the cooked up particles of new planets. We are not the object of our thought; we are the passing object of an idea that is propositioning us in movement- in transition as the on-off eidetic flicker of a light sensitive eye that registers everything without seeing.