ardea

I'm not sure what I'm writing in writing this, but I've wanted to write it for a while. My thoughts can be syllables and splashes i urge myself to guide into a mold of coherence, sharpened to a point. Sometimes I resent that mold, resent the not incorrect assumption that communication relies on a bartering of symbols and stories, truth in context between words. Words carry weight, slowed enough that we can model their migration. They bend, articulate, bounce off each other, but in the end all…