Where the Brain-Train Stops

https://youtu.be/Dge2ZKxw6Dw

.

I can’t look at anything

in which I don’t project myself.

What can human thinking bring

to view except what’s on its shelf

.

already? What other

possible resort has it but

to play father, child, mother

to whatever thought it’s cut

.

from fabric it already knows?

I see a piece of quartz:

To know the word for it bestows

familiarity – a force

.

that I can wield with confidence

throughout incarnate life.

In fact, it masks incompetence –

I’ve not a clue how rife

.

it is with being I can’t speak of.

I can sit here sweating

with the block: indeed, I reek of

trying to imagine getting

.

anything I’m not. I can’t get

what I’m not. What then

can I see? What then can I let

you in to see, and when

.

will it become a revelation

worth the trouble to relate? Fuck

ineducable ignorance! I’m a station

where the brain-train stops, gets stuck.

.