(In Real Life - the opposite of technology-enabled connection)
Inter-connective madness seems normal to most, but not to me-
I want to see you, be with you, feel your breath on my face,
notice a drop of emphatic spit on your lip,
see the shimmering rims of your eyes as you laugh or declare or proclaim or pronounce-
(or even sit silent as a wood mouse, peaking from his gnome hole home in the base of the balsam)
I want to feel that kinetic pulse burst from your flagellating hands,
flagrant gesticulations that cause small winds to erupt and pass over me.
I want to hear the timbre of your voice, all the cracks and rumbles and missteps and spit-stuttered choked words that don’t sound right but are still understandable.
I want to notice those pauses, when each person retreats into hidden secret dens of contemplation that no one ever enters, emerging again with a bucket full of words to describe a story or a feeling or an unintended vague reeling account of something difficult to express-
I want to be in the ambience of your presence, feel the aura of your neuro-electrical synapses, your spiritual energies, as malleable and mutable as Irish skyscapes-
I don’t want pixelated perfection, or dictated expressions of your soul, truncated expressions enabled by digitized auto-tuned, abstract robotic bullshit.
I want to smell your scent, sweat, taste your blood and tears, be immersed in your inconsistencies, revel in fact, in your human Being, your being Human, in front of me, beside me, bestride me, beneath me, above me, but in all ways corporeal, spiritual, tangible and immediate…
From August 2012