Tuesday, March 7, 2017

How the Thought They’ll Throw a Shadow Thrills!

Souls are so intent on manifesting into sensate form –
so determined to know what it feels like to be warm
and have a weight and to be seen corporeally
(how the thought they’ll throw a shadow thrills!) –
that in their reckoning, and beckoning to the remotest

possibility of incarnation, and from being famished
for the food of which they’re sure that senses –
smell and taste and touch – comprise immensities
for which as disincarnate spirits they’ve known only
as ungratifying theoretical abstract propensities,

they’ll often from impatience settle for the simulacra
of a mannequin, a Barbie doll, a Halloween mask,
or the product of the application of the careful task
of turning brush and pen’s attenuations in black ink
into an artist’s fine-line drawing – well, this last is where

another soul just found itself, moreover as a draft of what
the artist hopes will lead to something better, and which
therefore now resides in darkness on a “maybe later” shelf.
But even this is form: souls have dealt with less to find
inarguable evidence, outdistancing all doubt, they’ve felt

down to their last sensate scintilla – what a physical
existence is about. On this basis, you might think to bring
a re-infused regard to all those shelved discarded faces
left in drawings you thought didn’t make the grade.
Are there souls there you’ve unwittingly mislaid?


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