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Two Sleeps to Go
We have only two sleeps to go
Or so the brothers tell me
They share a special bond, fraternally
(These brothers - they are twins, see)
Hypnos and Thanatos.
One sleep I am glad to know
The other sleep will fell me
And there I'll lie beyond, eternally
When finally it wins me -
"Vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas!"
I stand with Yalom by my side
He is teaching me to stare
At the sun in all its terror
The unspoken is our common ground
Our sure and shared finality.
And in my night I can confide
With the moon - it's always there
To share the burdens of my error
Within each painting's strokes are found
My unrevealed reality.
The essence of my enmities
Are cause for fear of grace
I steel my focus and begin
Despondence derides my every day
Insistent to defeat me.
In the presence of mine enemies
I pause and clear a space
I feel their locus from within
As confidants to guide me on my way...
I shift and rise to greet me.
A Poem of Avoidance
There is more to do
Than I can possibly do
And I can only do
What I can do -
No more.
My inner world
Establishes that all is more
Than can be done
And I forget
That I can eat the elephant
(One mouthful at a time).
I am plagued and terrorized
By the guilt
Of my inaction
And the fear
Of taking the first step
Precludes the possibility
Getting anywhere.
Tags:
I, Machine
Descartes' Cartesian Dualism
Gave me a mind
Separate to the machine
Sure, this is my brain -
"Mais, je pense, donc je suis"
The machine may stop
But the mind... ah! the mind...
I, machine
Oligodendricites
Axonal electrical tape
Breaking down
Demyelinating
The machine starts to fall apart
Each Node of Ranvier
Loses its identity
To gaping chasms and fissures
What were once sparks
Driven with velocity
On the straight and narrow
To a certain synaptic potential
Are now sluggish and unpredictable
Powder flashes
Wildfire erupts throughout the glia
Half my consciousness
Is overcome by
A tsunami of blood
Suffocation and infarction
Someone else's arm has been
Attached to the left side of my body
And I, machine,
Am fucked!
Descartes
I saw your fMRI
You were thinking at the time -
Lit up and sparkling
In all your neuronal glory
Saturday Mornings
Saturday mornings
It's newspapers and coffee
Toast and jam and tea
We sit on the back porch
And a song constantly plays
In my mind
The words silently forming their shape
On my lips
It is a love song
And while I'm not fully aware of it
It shapes my sense of completeness
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