The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

reading the blanks

desperately reading the blanks, looking for radar clues,
how something might manifest itself in the noise. so
filtering the blank, extrapolating, processing, as if
the outlines of a figure or text might appear. I think
of a looming at a distance, trudging towards my position
as subject, symbolic, in the midst of an imaginary
proximity, as if the chaos of breath were subtended into
the remnants of an articulated fixture. in a sense, this
is of the hypnagogic disappearing at the commencement of
sleep, dreaming the absence of dreaming. the trace is
left behind, the trace of what there is, in the sense of
early cloud chambers or the LHC. one can construct an
entire ontology through the epistemology of traces and
filters; one might as well concede that the world is
such, that traces replace the sign which is, after all,
a coagulation, and that filters are what makes manifest.

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