Rework images and shift the words around as you like. Simply download and rewurk! If you can't retrieve an image (some are used as backgrounds), email ergence and we'll send you the file.
Each of these images and texts will eventually lead through to information about the author and a URL via which you can link to the image/text in its 'original' context. From there you will be able to surf the responses that relate to that werd.
Anyone is welcome to submit samples to this site. In the meantime, though, some images and words have been lifted from the sites of various divergence members. So, go ahead and digitally interact with them. Then, if you'd like to submit an image or a piece of text for inclusion on this site, please either post it to ergence as an attachment or send the URL from which we can retrieve it. The only two responses so far are to teri hoskin's image, part of peter minter's poem and some words from peter nicholson's poem. [NB. At the moment the site is quite linear. This is not meant to suggest any hierarchy, it's just the way the site is at the moment. From time to time it will change. Any suggestions are welcome.]
The data][h!][bleeding T.ex][e]ts
chronic neck & finger mez
Our brave new world
Breeds images for circumnavigating life.
Fresh-cut tissue quickly stitched
Or glass concoction foetus bound,
Satellites that whir beyond
Our solar system's centrifuge,
Are the marvels of the rational,
But the nerves have miracles
Still with their felicity.
While the dusty skeleton
Of all faith was strengthening,
Christ was Sol Invictus haloed,
Decked with hopes of double life;
Not luminous or flapping heavens,
That was thought a finite bliss.
There remains a mystery-
Not one second can be named
Despite the scientist's certainty:
Nuclear blisters in the sky
Giving us our radiance
And each planet in ellipse
Where the matter gravitates
As a vacuum sucks us in
Its infinite and programmed byte,
Down the black hole of our chances
Time's gold chariot galloping,
Reined by double-spiralled chains.
We are human and we know it-
That's the solace that the bird
Cannot muster as it migrates
Under the weasels and whales of clouds.
What pattern comes- we can only guess it,
But at evening we go on,
For the sunrise praises all
When we raise our heads at dawn
And feel that pristine density.