Between the Aura and the Jolt

I'm fascinated with spaces lately. If there's space, there's time, unpredictability, possibility. Spaces between the art and artist. Spaces between art and observer. And now, spaces between the aura and the jolt. I came across this particular space, or the idea of it, in the poem "Seizure" by Philip Jenks. An excerpt:

the spaces between the aura
and the jolt are shorter
like some epileptic thunderstorm
waiting for the eye.

Analyzing poetry really isn't my strong suit, and I know I'm bringing all of my own incorrect meanings to this little stanza (it's about a seizure, after all, not art). Presumably Jenks is talking about the space and time between the aura of the seizure, that first premonition, and the moment it actually starts. But I'm still hooked. Hooked on the idea that there's a space between the perception and the synthesis, a space between knowing something's about to happen and it actually happening, a space between the shimmering web of an idea and being suddenly captured into its sticky strings, a space between the aura and the aha!, the aura and the jolt. Even though Jenks and I are talking about two different things, I'm intrigued that he calls it a space, not time. For both of us, it's a place. A place of unpredictability and possibility.

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current book: Mrs. Dalloway. *sigh*
current music: The Sixths' Wasps Nest
current socks: brownish-red with cats and the words, "here kitty kitty"