Friday, November 23, 2012


This time, this night I witness: I feel the plosives and vowels and throaty "h" of a genetic history I imagine to be authentic. Sing-songing while strolling, I let the sounds be undrawn into a modulation and pronunciation that is fluid.
My ear suggests it resembles a Hebrew or Palestinian voice. I'm lured into a sense that it is both mythic and mystic. A historical call that may be Eastern European or out of the Caucasus or Byzantium, nomadic along the Southeastern Mediterranean rim, perhaps crossing from Babylon into a ravaged Jerusalem. A call that speaks of a journey, maybe inaugurated before the birth of the planet, the universe, finding its voice among nomadic wanderings through the eons until that voice found ways to form words.
My modulated plosive vowelish throaty "h" sing-song sounds I might wish to claim as pre-words or proto-words that would eventually connect with meaning. I can't presume any of this, though.

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