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Or perhaps stillness is perfect time—original joy blooms beneath a glass bulb that protects as it cuts off air. Time is a sentence punctuated: not comma or semi-colon, but full stop. His old bus-driver waves to him as he walks by. An organ stop sounds. My cat’s meow is all meaning, no context. (I know better than that: he means kitchen.) Prisoners subjected to sound lose their sense of direction; sleep is a map, a quest, a kayak. Stop gap, stop loss: these are actions, not arrest. Put a stop to it means embarking on an ending. An ending like a pier cannot contain any but its own assertions. Her whisper is still a voice.
–27 April 2011