(no subject)

Feb 21, 2008 20:18

The computer is a sort of scrying point.
Bodiless
removed
you peer at things. You see autopsy photos,
you see viral videos,
the exchange of blows.

Then you think you Know.

But it’s far from the Truth.
The truth of it comes when your Ruffini’s endings and Merkel’s corpuscles are there, feeling it.
The truth comes when you smell it. (Conrad’s dead hippo.)
The truth of it enhanced by your pilgrimage of 100,000 steps to come witness.

You see it with your eyes disembodied and you become detached: when your body is there, and you hear the panting, panicked breath; you smell the blood; you feel your hair stand on end;
then you might have an appreciation of the Hole.

my poems

Previous post Next post
Up