Pulse Point

j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved

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Divergence Dot

Dot:
little speck of ink;
bit;
spit;
spot;
point;
what you see right in there with the spots floating in your vision when you bang your head against the brick wall of corruption, apathy and general stupidity;
what you layer to create an image spilling from the soul;
your nickname in a small southern town when the teacher can’t remember your name in art class;
focal point on the flower in the painting on the wall while you’re in labor as you pour every bit of yourself into it escaping the sensations of agony;
seed;
speck;
dirt;
just above the i and right after the j as well as above the j that precedes(!) the name by which you are called if your name is j. ruth;
a pulse of life;
in the womb, growing beyond the first point of entry and into the next;
a world;
possibility;
freckles;
what i see right before i take a deep breath, biting off my amazement and rage;
wetness round;
bindu;
bindi;
hole into alternate universe by which we find the “alternate” self through divergent subjectivity sustaining possibility, spawning creativity;
portal;
one of millions of brilliant bits of the massive rushing, sustaining eruption flowing, wave after wave of pleasure through the body;
salt;
pepper;
sugar;
crumb;
poppy seed;
location on the map on my lap on the trip up north when the south was too much drawl and redneck mouth;
spark;
raindrop;
the spittle of spiders sitting beside her;
begin;
end…

wetness round

Love Points…

I awakened from a nap one afternoon this summer to find this on my pc. The only point, when you’re exhausted, when you think no one notices, when you wonder how much more you can exert, when you put one foot and then the other, when you lie down and when you rise up…the only point is…our capacity to love self and others…

copyright 2011, evan k.