The Thing to Which the Thing That Is You Belongs (First Gander)

The sound of a name is a thing in itself, which takes shape in the mouth of the person who sees it in you. You are the thing attached to the shape in the mouth of the person who then wills it into the space surrounding. In this way you and I are incubated, hosted by bodies of conversation, invoked in passing, in vain, under the breath, conjured in the lonely wind tunnel of whisper synapse between mouth and ear. The sound of a name waits for agency, the sound of another to which it might lash itself, mouth to ear to mind to gut. Wait for the cliff that is the lips of a person. Let the sound of your name hang from the cliff, and try not to run, and try to keep up. Let the sound of your name be the thing that is you. Let the thing that is you belong to the name that is he.

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