Jill, on Google searches, ultrasound and sonogram seemed to be used
interchangeably.
Without colorisation, ultrasound/sonogram images of ones insides do appear
bleak gray, black, moving constantly. Buddha apparently knew this way in
advance of the technology - we is but sloppy (superfit) envelopes around
this constant transience. Assuming everything changes in a body in seven
years, my 93 year dad and I figured out that he was into his 13th body!
Which is only vaguely related to your poem, and excuse my perhaps over
extended diversion. Elders on the edge - the experience of witness and
support - an intensity that conflates all inputs, including poems.
But then what reading of a poem is ever pure - hard and brilliant enough to
transcend what the reader brings to it. I think it's a real question. Does
one forget all one's stuff once inside the entrance of Chartres? Or poems
that are equally awesome?
Or does a great art work pull in the seer/reader's psychic traffic (stuff)
and transform it into something else. (The way a solid reading of Proust
can change one's life?) No matter what, while you are here, you are still
confined to an envelope (body); it's only possible to enhance or get
variously altered within this circumstance.
Stephen V
> Hi Stephen,
>
> Thanks, and yeah, the body is kind of billowy and noisy - I got a very 'noisy'
> tooth right now. I know whenever I've had ultrasounds (is that the same as a
> sonogram?) that they often look like those moving, heaving weather maps.
>
> And, yeah, a lot of bad weather coming in from the right, there and here and
> elsewhere. There are some days I don't want to watch the weather map, because
> you don't need it to know which way the wind blows.
>
> Best,
> Jill
>
>> Yes, Jill, I like this, too. The mesh of weather and syllables, in
>> particular. Yesterday I witnessed my father receiving a sonogram and
>> followed the monitor revelations of kidney, bladder, etc. It was so much
>> like oceans and cloudy weather in there, nothing stops moving. Leading to
>> the easy revelation (or verification) what shapes language on the outside of
>> one's body is not too much different from the forces of what shapes language
>> from the inside. Weather in, weather out - language, too. And, gosh, are
>> there mad big storm off and on showers, gales and big, bellowing clouds
>> going on here - too late to call it "the ides of March," but!
>>
>> Hope that's not to hair-brained and confusing. The technician also said the
>> blood pumping into the brain is "very noisy."
>>
>> Nothing is going to compare to right wing noise when this feed tube stays
>> out permanently and she who is clinically dead becomes real dead. This has
>> been a medieval mess!
>>
>> Stephen V
>>
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