Shifting modalities: Translating for the twins.
I yearn for authentic speech yet am struck dumb each time I open my mouth to unleash the twins of desire and fear.
The long red tongue strained and plunged into my chest this afternoon. I sat in the darkness of my studio waiting for clarity. Waiting for the sense of urgent purpose that has driven so many fine creations in the past.
Driven instead to my feet...to pace....to fig'er. To twiddle....to wonder... to slump silent in my chair.
Something is different now.
I know that feeling in my chest. Some strange birth is coming. Something unformed yet potent and troublesome will soon emerge....and I will be called once again to make sense of it with my brush...first of all and then if time allows....with thoughts and words so that it can be seen and heard.
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