Category: karkinikê

Someone once wrote: I feel like you expose yourself, leave yourself vulnerable. Here I am, naked and free of the scales, the ones that bend the light.

-The wind changes. It slows and becomes a breeze, carrying with it the sediment of breath. All those memories which have burdened myriad souls , the gathering of life’s moments in small clumps of what remains pressing down and into the cavity of the body, penetrating through bone and marrow,seeping through veins and arteries, burrowing through and past the hardened parts, and into the ventricles of lungs, then out into the world. This is how the wind changes, this is how the scent of morning and eve are affected, turned away from the monotony of the quotidian and begin to […]

-Then, the years before, all of them having transpired, faded into the darkness of the space where time melts away to and remains just out of reach, like the faint glimmer, a lost refraction of light and the hope of a moment. There was that moment. A moment which became a memory, which gave life to the ghost of time’s possibility, which is what I still search for near the dawning of twilight, as the remnants of light become entertained and lost in their own games with shadows. And how should I describe it? There was laughter, and words; a […]

-Like the wind’s howling, or an incantation in ancient ruins, he repeats the mantra that all is still possible. He thinks of the long winding paths of antiquity, of the nomads, of the forebearers of our civilizations, of the ancients now come and gone, of every stone placed above every stone placed before it. The adages of millions whose argon we breathe, whose dust we have swallowed, whose ideas we steal, if only to take one more step, to breathe one more breath. And all is still possible, as it’s always been, as it will always be. And the wind […]

-There were words. Between them, there were words. There was laughter too. A certain magic almost drew them together. But after the words had grown silent, and the laughter had abandoned its ricochets, they exited from doors at opposite ends of the café, where they had, respectively, spent their night watching the world perform.

– There needn’t have been a deluge, the rain cascading against the anterior walls with a soft thud like crimson colliding against tissue. The scent of childhood innocence didn’t have to evaporate into the humidity that filled the night, but it did and there was. In the sleek darkness of night, against the stark reflections of life in the glistening of settled rain, Macauley could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart; the ricochet of its echo, from chamber to chamber, causing a reverberation in his breath, and along his arterial walls. The quickening pulse; a pulsation which undermined his […]

-There’s nothing there, he thinks, as he sits on the crumbling sand mound at the edge of the water’s reach. The fading reflections of twilight slowly removing the shape of the world, as the water persists in its process of erosion. He can sense his shape, even if he can barely make out his own outline. If he waves his arms at the sky, as if attempting to attract the attention of a star – perhaps salvation, then for a breath he can assert he still retains an outline. His arms tire quickly however, and the act of verifying his […]

–Nothing open…   not since all the bookstores died…   that night the double doors were bursting book pages…   more words ran into the gutters than ever before…   you couldn’t go swimming in the ocean for weeks…   those surfers who didn’t listen, and ventured in anyway got knocked out by words like ‘belligerence’ and ‘ignominious’…   seafood was also banned for months, it was worse than the gulf oil spill; several people choked to death on words like ‘recondite’ during a meal of tilapia or smoked salmon…   the only upside was that people living near the […]

“Words fail always, but never fail to mean.”

–            I’m starting to believe that nothing is real. The very words on this page, simply the impression of something which cannot be passed on, handed off, or exchanged-what is left are the signifiers which lead you down a path which is similar to but not quite the one which led to their creation. I could be wrong. They could lead you down a completely different path from which you simply judge the validity and authenticity of these words and what created them, having no parallel reference point yourself, you can become distanced and eschew any value you might have […]